Friday, October 12, 2007


I'm an only child. I enjoy my own company. I rarely say that I am bored. Not just because there are not enough hours in the day to complete my 'to do' list, but because I am rather adept at entertaining myself. I am not shy about doing things alone, whether it's a movie or dinner.

I have several things 'on my plate' at the moment, and all of them are stressful. I don't have anyone to go for a walk with. I don't have anyone to look to. You know what I mean, the way you share an unspoken look with someone when things get crazy. It's not that I want anyone else to talk care of me or carry my burden, but it sure would be nice to have company on my journey.

It's not that I don't have friends to talk to, but everyone has their own things going on. I find myself moving through my days alone. And, I share my nights with co-workers whom I like, but I cannot really call them friends. The result is that I am lonely. I try to reach out to the people around me but usually the conversation becomes about them. My one friend is going out of town this weekend, she wants to look good at a party. While I hopeI don't give a fig about what she is going to wear. I just cannot muster the energy to be enthusiastic about her conversation. Then I feel like I am not being a good friend.

I understand that I have quite a load on me right now. It's depressing to live through, so I am CERTAIN that it is depressing to hear. But, I really could use a shoulder to cry on. Someone to bring me soup because they know that it would take entirely too much to get out of bed. Or, better yet, someone to drag me out of bed anyway. Someone to hug me, without a word. I wish I could shake this, but I cannot help wishing that I were not struggling through this alone. This is one of those times when I need to know that someone else understands me.
(Is there anybody in there?)

Yes, I know I need to suck it up. I need to prioritize and walk down the things I can do something about, one at a time. But, that does not change the fact that I need a soft spot in what feels like a very hard, cold world. I could count the times in my life when I have felt so very alone. I don't like it here.
I'm just thinking that it would seem like a shorter journey if I had some company.

I guess it is a chance for me to rely on myself and draw on my inner strength.

So, here I go.
Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?
Come on, now.
I hear youre feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.
Relax.I need some information first.
Just the basic facts:
Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ships smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I cant hear what youre sayin.
When I was a child I had a fever.
My hands felt just like two balloons
.Now I got that feeling once again.
I cant explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.
Ok.Just a little pinprick.
Therell be no more --aaaaaahhhhh!
But you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?
I do believe its working. good.
Thatll keep you going for the show.
Come on its time to go.
There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ships smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I cant hear what youre sayin.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Customer Service?


I had to share this because I could not believe how I was treated at my friendly, neighborhood Borders this past weekend.

I went into Borders and purchased 1 book and 2 magazines. The magazines were $5.95 and $8.95. I paid with cash, which is unusual because I rarely have cash on me. My daughter and the baby and I left there and stopped at CVS (drug store) on the way home. When we stopped I looked at the receipt and realized that the magazine for $5.95 wasn't there, instead, I had been charged $9.99 for another item I hadn't purchased, it looked like candy.

I returned and was treated as if I were trying to steal the cach drawer. The girl explains how magazines are rung up. I don't care! Then she calls the assistant manager, who explains the same thing. Again, not my problem. I don't know how the error was made, but I was just here, this is what I purchased and can you give me the difference. Rather than fixing the problem with any measure of aplomb, I was treated as if I had just stolen something and was trying to get cash for a quick fix.

So, as I am standing there the boy manager gives me the form to fill out that you would get if you were returning something without a receipt and then proceeds to issue the difference on a Return Gift Card.

OK, for those of you who don't know, MOST times, these cards are issued for returns without receipts and especially when it could have been stolen merchandise. Not in every store, but in Borders they are. Now, I have seen thefts where someone came into a store with a receipt, picked up the same item and returned it. But, this?

I wasn't returning anything. I just wanted the cashier to correct her error.

I was treated like I had just pilfered the entire Harry Potter shipment.

I was treated like a liar and a thief.

I was disrespected, just because the employees felt that they could.

I spoke to the actual Manager, and she nodded intently and gave me a coupon for $5 off my next purchase. Is she serious?

Two days later I got a call that the book that I reserved was in.

It is the latest Daniel Silva, and I am so looking forward to that book....I guess I will have to ride over to Barnes and Noble to buy it.


Sunday, June 24, 2007

This is my favorite part of Cuyahoga Valley National Park

It is called Brandywine Falls. It is calming, peaceful and relaxing to be in this valley, listening to the powerful water.

My heart is heavy for the family of Jessie Marie Davis. May they eventually find peace.

Friday, June 8, 2007


I am guessing that I should apologize for not really feeling like blogging lately.

But I won't.

I don't feel like it (apologizing or blogging).

I am sad and angry. I am lost and lonely.

I am trying to enjoy summer, so far I only love the rain and fresh fruit.

I am trying to keep my head up.

I don't feel witty, or clever, or insightful.

I just am not good company of late.

I really don't want to talk about the problem, so it leaves me with little to say.

So, I will say that I miss you all. Which is strange since I don't really know you. But there is something to be said for sharing these posts, divulging the personal to perfect strangers and finding in that a kinship.

I mean I have a wicked green thumb, and all my house plants need emergency surgery. I am just very...tired. Tired is not the correct word, but it's what I find myself saying lately. Even though I have actually been sleeping well.

As a trivial aside, I will add that I recognize that carbs do not help me at all when I am like this.

I need to refuel. Nourish my self.

Right now, I am as blank as the watercolor paper in my art room. So, I may link to someone who is actually clever, or post a picture or an old posting until I shake this off.

I felt I owed an explanation.

P.S. I do have a few comments about Rosie....but she gives me such a headache, it can keep.

Sunday, May 27, 2007


I had lunch and coffee with my friend and ex-partner today. We talked for hours about everything under the sun. I am happy that we have come to the point where we can be friends. It was not easy. We loved each other, that was never the problem, but that does not mean that two people are suited for each other. We were not.

During the break up, I would ask her if she thought we would be friends down the line and she gave me an absolute and resounding no. I am glad today that she was wrong. I cherish her friendship. I am proud of where she is in her life. I cheer her triumphs. It is an amazing place to be, given where we were some years ago. We were together nearly 8 years (7 years and 10 months). I could not imagine walking away from her and never having contact with her again. I could not imagine us not being able to have a conversation. I am so glad that we have gotten here.

It was not easy or instantaneous. It took years. It took time, space, and mutual respect. I am always amazed at people who have a break-up and then, in the space of a month or two, are "friends". I mean some relationships can be this way, but often you need a period of time where the person is out of your life for a little while. You need to get your bearings and be ok.

There has been enough space and time for us to get past the drama. Neither of us are romantically interested in the other. We wish each other happiness and fulfillment. I know that my ex-partner would never disrespect my relationship; she knows the same goes for me.

I was dating someone who, I felt, was playing a game with her ex (who still had feelings for her). She would never answer the questions I had about that relationship. I have enough experience to know that what we cherish, we protect. She did not seem to think my concerns deserved a real, grown-up, honest discussion. The lesson for me was that whether there was something going on or not, I deserved to be respected enough for her to sit down and have the conversation with me.

I don't want games. I want someone who is able to be real with me like I am real with them. I want someone who can call me on my shit, and expects the same of me. I want a woman, who despite any labels, knows that we are both womyn. The point of dating is to get to know someone and allow them to get to know you. This allows us to figure out if we want to continue with a more serious relationship or not. How can you start a relationship without being real about who you really are and how you feel? Even if it is new to you, if you are faced with something different and it's clear that the games are not working, why not try something different.

Now I am ready to move on. I am praying that I can find someone real. I am praying that I can find my forever love. Someone not phased by my sarcasm, and who appreciates that I have no preconceived notion of who she is. I want someone who has a big heart, who is emotionally mature. I want for someone who will stand beside me like I stand beside her. I want someone who is affectionate. I want someone who understands that I like my space sometimes. I want someone who will love me curves and all; warts and all. I want a grown-up, sexy, intelligent, funny, relaxed, honest, forgiving, healthy, beautiful love.

Friday, May 25, 2007

what a day

Well, I was right to be concerned about the baby. She was diagnosed with intussusception. It's crazy, tuesday she began to feel better. Then today she was sick again. Pobrecita, she was miserable. Would not keep liquids; dehydrated; restless.

I had to insist that the doctors really look at her. She just seemed content while sitting on my lap, but she was really lethargic.

The radiologist was able to correct the problem. She has perked up considerably. She's in the hospital overnight (which I hate).

She will come home tomorrow.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Where I am right this moment...

I just finished a light lunch of tuna salad, wasa crisps, raspberries, a cup of coffee and water. I feel good.

I am writing and that makes me happy.

I am concerned about Jada; she's sick today. First time really and she's limp and pathetic.

I am lonely and not calling anyone. So, I must not be too lonely.

I have not been sleeping properly for the last week or so. Hope this passes soon, its been a while since I have had insomnia.

I have cooked my dinner for work tonight: mixed greens salad w/turkey, onion, carrot and tomato, home-made lentil soup, raspberries, and strawberries.

I have lost about 9 pounds in the past 3 weeks.

And, right now I am feeling fine.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Tend That Inward Fire

I went out dancing with my friend Melissa on Saturday night. We always have a good time. We are carving out a fantastic friendship. I am very happy for it. I don't have many friends, and that is something I have been actively trying to change. The problem is that I prefer real people around me. I like womyn who will call me on my bullshit and tell me when I am wrong. I like people mature enough to understand my struggles. I like mature, honest people. It is not always easy to find.

But I digress. After dancing, we went to breakfast. This is often the best part of the night because we talk about whatever is going on: work, dates, girlfriends, children. We talk about everything. A group of young men came in and were seated in the booth across the aisle and half a booth length back, and in the booth in front of them was an older gentleman, he said he's 70.

One of the young men came over and introduced himself to us as Caleb. He said that he and his friends had been to a bar in the Tremont (read a bit trendy) area and had a great time; asked where we'd been and if we were having a good night. Then, the six of us had a conversation that was delightful. We talked about how people don't talk to each other anymore. We debated about whether or not two people watching the same glorious sunset/sunrise were relating to one another. (My opinion is that though they stand at the same spot and are moved by the beauty before them, it does not mean that they will relate to one another at all.) We discussed whether you can find something to which you can relate in everyone, even people considered to be evil. We talked about how rare it is to have people even look you in the eye and smile or say good day.

During the conversation, Caleb mentioned that he is an artist. Which I knew the moment he mentioned the sunset/sunrise. He did not have to label himself an artist, I just knew it. I felt it. I felt it when he walked by to sit down. I saw it in his beautiful, soft brown eyes. I felt it in his handshake. I knew it when he walked up to us and introduced himself, asked questions and truly listened to our opinions. Amazing.

I had just hours prior laughed at myself because I realized that I am an artist and writer no matter how long it's been since I have written or painted anything. It does not change the fact that I analyze the colors of the morning sky while driving home from work. It does not alter my love for words. It does not change who I am, how I move, or the way I see the world. Some things just are.
Just as sure as I could see Caleb's fire in his eyes. I wonder if I will be able to see that in myself, or if others do. And I find myself thinking of Van Gogh's words "should one tend that inward fire, turn to oneself for strength, wait patiently...for the moment when someone who wants to comes and sits down beside one's fire and perhaps stays on? Let him who believes in God await the moment that will sooner or later arrive."

Amazing. It seems to me that we all have that fire. Often we unknowingly and recklessly share it with those who would put it out.

This quote means to me that God/The Creator/The Universe will provide just what we need, we just have to be willing to wait for it. I have never been patient. But I did not have any clue that Caleb would be set before me so that I can see someone else's inward fire burning. I saw in Caleb a fire that has been tended and my God, how gloriously it burns. I feel sorry for anyone who has him in their presence and misses true beauty. I feel sorry for us all for allowing beautiful human beings to pass us everyday without even making eye contact, without smiling, without relating. And, I feel sorry for those who have that kind of fire and have left it unattended.


Tuesday, April 24, 2007


OK, I finally finished a poem I started late last summer. I am stuck however. I cannot tell if it makes sense to anyone else so if you could help I would appreciate it. I am not trying to be cryptic at all and I do not think its genius. It is however one of the few real things that I have written in a long time. So, be honest. It does not mean that I will change it, but I need to know.



Moonless nights made longer by the memory
Of loving you strongly, surely. This troubled terrain
mocks me, pillows filled with dreams of you.

Ghosts of nights gone by ride me into day.
I am the wrong kind of tired; sleepless
for the wrong reasons; ridden the wrong way.
Glorious were the nights we slept not at all.

Restless days of news to share, without you.
Every step uneasy, this foundation is splintered now.
This pitiless ring promising the certainty of you
laughs until dawn breaks.

My heart open enough to want you happy;
Selfish enough to wish it were with me.
Here in the dark, for you, I ache.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

102 Things.

1. I am very opinionated (just wanted to start you out slowly; no big surprises).
2. I am a mom. I take it very seriously; this is very funny to my daughter.
3. I used to be a watercolorist. I desperately want to be one again.
4. I still analyze the colors of things I think I could paint:sexy eyes, beautiful skies, or my neighbor's beautiful and riotous flowers.
5. I sometimes forget to relax and loosen up.
6. Sometimes I can be extremely silly, especially when my daughter is around. Hence #2.
7. I love to sing while I drive.
8. I love to read.
9. I like most kinds of music.
10. I think my dreadlocks are damn sexy!
11. There is nothing sexier than an intelligent woman.
12. I procrastinate. It's almost a science.
13. I love to dance.
14. I enjoy going out to the bar, and watching the drama unfold (so long as I am not in it).
15. Kissing is very important.
16. Cuddling is more important.
17. Despite all the bumps and roadblocks, I really do believe life is beautiful.
18. I have very few, close friends.
19. Ignorance annoys me.
20. This is why G.W. annoys me.
21. NO, I am not my daughter's friend.
22. I love learning new things.
23. I used to dream of being a doctor.
24. Now I dream of playing doctor.
25. Irises, lilies, and gerbera daisies are my favorite flowers.
26. I cry during sappy movies.
27. Sometimes, I laugh until I cry.
28. I do not handle my anger well.
29. I swear fluently.
30. Sometimes, I 'mother' people who aren't my daughter. I am working on this.
31. I was a jazz fan before I could write.
32. I am a southpaw.
33. I have very few people who I can count on when I am down.
34. I love my profession.
35. I can be surprisingly shy.
36. When I drive, I try to take the most beautiful route, whenever possible.
37. Music is vital.
38. My XM Radio is irreplacable.
39. I have finally stopped counting my childhood scars as my shame.
40. I love shopping for purses.
41. I really like people who own up to their mistakes/issues.
42. It is not easy for me to let my guard down and be loved.
43. I am very independent, though I love it when I don't have to be.
44. I love to write but am very reluctant to share my writing with others.
45. I allowed my creativity to be a casualty in a senseless war. I am hoping it makes a full recovery.
46. I wear my heart on my sleeve.
47. I am fiercly private. (Can't tell it by this blog, can you?)
48. I am curvy, fleshy, zaftig. And still sexy. (wink)
49. I am fluent in sarcasm.
50. I used to be quite proficient in Korean, 18 years ago.
51. I want to learn french and russian.
52. I am shamelessly addicted to caffeine.
53. I have a green thumb, but am intimidated by gardening.
54. Cleveland depresses me. Not just the climate but the mentality of many of the people here.
55. The person who hurt/betrayed me most is my ex-partner's daughter. After loving her with my whole heart for nearly 8 years, she introduced me as her "mother's partner" one evening. It was a slap in the face and the end of our relationship. I left her mother not long after (for other reasons). After four years, I still cannot look at her.
56. I try to maintain a relationship with my mother because I still carry guilt about being estranged from my father when he passed. I do not want to go through that again.
57. I am not a risk taker.
58. I want to move to a different climate, a warmer climate. Much warmer.
59. I want to design a line of greeting cards and make my own calendars.
60. I didn't learn to really drive until I was 23.
61. Sunrises are magical.
62. I think math is fun.
63. I believe in ghosts.
64. Arrogance is a turn-off.
65. I like westerns (unless the indians are the enemy), tennis, football and golf.
66. When I read books to little kids, I love to make up voices for the characters.
67. I cannot watch horror films.
68. I believe in God.
69. One of my childhood dreams was to become an actress on Broadway.
70. I can carry a tune...........if there is a handle on it.
71. I like trying new recipes.
72. I do not know how to play chess. But am determined to learn.
73. I am horrible at pool, darts, basketball, and bowling. But, I enjoy being able to laugh at myself when I play.
74. Depression is a very frequent companion.
75. I am terribly stubborn.
76. I am bossy. It's mostly an occupational thing, I tell people what to do.
77. I rarely think I am wrong. But, will admit it when I am.
78. I love it when I get to the point in a relationship when I am no longer very self-conscious about getting undressed in front of my love, and it does not matter if I shaved. This takes a bit of time.
79. I am not materialistic.
80. It is not easy for me to give myself completely in a relationship.
81. I want to horrify my suburbanite neighbors by painting a mural on my garage doors.
82. I get excited about learning new things.
83. I cry when I watch mushy movies.
84. I find that the people I like most are often readers.
85. I can be obsessive about words, I like to use the exact word I want. Dark won't work if obscure is what I am looking for. I won't say blue, if something is turqoise.
86. I have lived in my house nearly 2 years and my bedroom walls are still white.
87. Have I mentioned that intelligence is very sexy? Mmeow!
88. I like my own company.
89. I was molested by an older cousin at a very young age.
90. I drive fast; not recklessly but fast.
91. I can go a week without eating meat.
92. I was very quiet as a child; and I always had a book in my hand.
93. I love living near Lake Erie. I find the water relaxing and peaceful.
94. If something is bothering me, I often get quiet and think about it for a couple of days before I say anything.
95. I rarely overtly flirt. I am often surprised when I am hit on.
96. Most days, I would rather listen to music or read than watch television.
97. I am very affectionate.
98. It has taken since February for me to complete this posting. I don't think I am very interesting.
99. I do not like being in a crowd of people where I only really know one or two people.
100. I don't like being single, but that fact won't make me stay.
101. I blush fairly easily.
102. I am a grandmother. My granddaughter, Jada Rose is my joy. I would level this tired city for her.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

while I'm on the subject of idiots....

The caption beneath this picture in the NYPost states:
GOT WHUPPED:Dwayne Buckle leaves court yesterday after testifying against four of the seven lesbians he says pummeled and stabbed him.

I do not know how I missed this story, so thanks to Carla for posting this update. Click on the NY Post hotlink above to read the story.

My first reaction is to second guess the severity of his beating.

Yes. I said it. I question the severity of it.

I know.
"Storm, violence is just wrong! No matter what, it's wrong."
Well, yes and no.

Violence is wrong.
But, see there are some people for whom turning the other cheek signifies an opportunity to punch you on that side of your face as well. Some people are not smart enough to read the signs.

Now, take a look at that picture again. (I 'll wait.)

That is not someone who can read subtle signs, and if he is able then he ignores them. See, there have been enough women raped and killed just because someone felt he had the power to do it.

Sometimes a person gets tired of being belittled, disrespected, and demeaned.

So, he is the poster boy for 'don't mess with lesbians, they can kick your ass'.

I think it suits him.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

..nappy headed hoes...

Just who is the nappy headed hoe?

It speaks for itself.

I have a blog entry on Indigo Storm discussing this issue further.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Happy Belated Easter

Happy belated Easter
I am still digging out!

This is not my back yard, but you get the picture. I had a little less snow than this, but only by about 4-5 inches.


Friday, March 30, 2007

Dark Desires

I have dark desires.



An absolute hunger.

While I am driving in the car,
my mind wanders to the last taste.

During the day at work,
I am distracted by the memory of your smell.

At the end of the day,
I can't wait to get my hands on you.

My beloved.

My extra dark chocolate bar.


Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Black Iris and Certain Dark Things: Finding The Neruda and O'Keeffe Within.

Georgia O'Keeffe is one of my absolute favorite artists. Actually she's tied with Frida Kahlo; I love them both for being raw and laying things bare, in very different ways.

Georgia O'Keeffe's paintings of large flowers, and some of her abstracts are very sensual.

To me, this painting is like that one lover who remains under my skin, long after I've last scratched my nails down her back, long after our last intimate moments, and our last kiss is nothing more than an ache.

Her work resonates with me. It is like my most secret desires, that I can only whisper, in the dark, after a year of laughing and loving, and desiring. Seeing her paintings is like voicing those desires that make me blush long after I've spoken them; long after a lover's reassuring kiss and compliance.

In the words of Pablo Neruda... certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

The first time I read Neruda's poem, XVII, I felt that he understood something that is universal about passion and love. That sometimes passion is so very deep that it is kept safe, beneath the surface. It is not common, this love he knows. It is not some cute 'eye candy', it is something that I would keep safely hidden deep in my soul. It is not something discussed, yet shows as bright as a full moon on a clear night.

Neruda's words and O'Keeffe's paintings stir something within me. I love intense art. Neither of these artists offer the sunny, easy view. Neither of them travel the easy road. Everything is so intense that it threatens to overwhelm. It resonates in me. I love reading things and seeing art that reflects a tiny mirror back to me. It seems that nothing for me is simple or easy.

I have a running joke with a couple of co-workers: I am not for the weak or uninitiated. No, this is not the bunny slope. This territory I offer is for the road warriors, the battle-scarred. And yet, there is this moment when all the hills level off, the thorns have fallen, all of the overgrown brush is gone and all that remains is...

a tender heart, my rich love, a vast and powerful sea. all that remains is me.


Saturday, March 24, 2007

XVII (I do not love you...)

Just thought I would share one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets...

XVII (I do not love you...)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose,
or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as
certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in
itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you
without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly,
without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand
on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda
Translated by Stephen Tapscott


Thursday, March 15, 2007

Toughest Week

This is absolutely the roughest week of the year for me.

March 8Th marked the seventh anniversary of my father's passing, and the 15Th marks the sixth anniversary for my maternal grandmother's passing.

I cannot stop crying today.

I was a daddy's girl. Daddy was the person who always encouraged my curiosity and creativity. He is forever with me in so many ways. We were very close, until I came out. We spent the last years of his life locked in a horrible battle. I had decided before coming out that I could live without whomever did not accept me. I never thought it would be him. I missed him before he passed, but at least I could see him before. Even now I will think 'I bet Daddy would know...' before it hits me that I cannot ask him anything. We cannot talk about jazz or golf, old westerns, sci-fi movies, or football. I cannot ask him how old I was when he took me to the park to make snow angels just because the snow was fresh and I had never done it before. The day he passed, I had been in my art room all day (and the day before). I could not shake the thought that I had wasted the last days of Daddy's life painting. No wonder I have been blocked since.

I have said this before. My grandmother was the reason that I knew I was loved as a child. Not that my parents did not love me; She was just different. Mama was the first person I ever knew to 'walk' their faith. By that I mean that her faith was not just at church on Sunday, often she was too ill to go. Her faith was in her words, her touch, her cooking, her love and devotion to her children and grandchildren, her garden and plants. No, she was not a bible thumper. She simply had a faith that was as comfortable as your favorite pair of jeans. I hope that makes sense. When she talked, you knew her words of faith were from having lived it, not because she was reciting what she read or was told. When she was sick and we knew she was passing. I thanked her for everything that she had taught me. I thanked her for everything she was. I thanked her for showing me that she loved me. I told her that she did not have to hold on for us because we were OK; she had taught us to live well.

I literally ache for her still. Often, especially lately, I wonder if I will ever find a place to lay my head that was as safe as she was.

I would say that 80-90% of who I am has been shaped by four people: my mother, father, and my maternal and paternal grandmothers. There is very little that I am that cannot be directly attributed to one of them. I only have my mother left, and I am reluctant to make waves with her because I feel that I would be forever untethered; lost, astray, unredeemed, irretrievable, invisible.


Saturday, March 10, 2007

Donate for Free

Homelessness is a growing problem here in the United States. Please look at the above site, they are not asking for your donations, simply asking for your input as to where they should send their products.

I found this information on Carlagirl!

Check it out.


Monday, March 5, 2007

Can Somebody PLEASE....

shut this B!%@H up?

And couldn't you just imagine the conversations, on both sides, after this photo was taken?

I didn't think anyone could make Sharpton look good to me, but here it is. Never say never.

If you are unfamiliar with Ann, she is...

she is the Conservative Jerry Springer.
she is a hate mongering shrew.
she is nearly indescribable.
she is probably my polar opposite.

I am able to find things for which I am grateful everywhere.


10 March 2007 0105 hrs
Ok. I cannot hold this anymore. This is what I really think of Ann Coulter. She reminds me of the female supremacists who are vicious and ignorant. She is a huge test for me. I have to battle myself to not hate her. Oh, vile dark creature of the night, I do believe she has a special place in hell reserved just for her kind.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

What is romantic?

I should have done this before Valentine's Day, but maybe this past month will provide some really juicy answers.

What is romantic?

I fear that I may not be romantic.

Isn't it possible to be romantic at home? Or is it?

If I love gerbera daisies, irises and lilies more than red roses, is there something wrong with that? Lilies are breath-taking and daisies make me happy.

I always feel silly when faced with the expectation of romance. I get that REALLY big question mark bubble over my head.

And all I can think is Yikes, I'm in trouble. It isn't that I don't care or that I don't want to do the work. I am just clueless. I have very simple needs to keep me very happy.

I mean, maybe I am just too easy. I love coffee, books, trees, nature, flowers. So, a pound of coffee from one of my favorite coffee shops, a favorite author, and dinner-out, would be a lovely evening for me.


What is most important to me is spending time together. I love having 'face time', catching up, laughing together, eye contact, and an uninterrupted conversation about nothing in particular. I need that time to connect and just be. I don't need to be entertained or impressed; I am impressed by getting a glimpse at the inside of my love, not by things. The important part is the interaction and the time together.

I mean, to me romantic is a quiet dinner, a glass of excellent wine, a walk on the beach (but this is Cleveland and there is none of that this time of year, unless you travel), great music (I would request Lizz Wright, Cassandra Wilson, and Miles Davis to start), and then nothing. Nothing but the two of us and time.

Am I missing the point? What is romantic?

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

A to Z Me

I grabbed this from Trinity2. Comment if you like. Consider yourself tagged, if you wish.

ACCENT: Mid-western.
CHORE I DON'T CARE FOR: litter box
ESSENTIAL ELECTRONICS: Laptop, mp3 player, satellite radio (all equally important)
FAVORITE COLOGNE: patchouli, Victoria secrets dream angels heavenly
HANDBAG: always!
INSOMNIA: how'd you guess my middle name?
JOB TITLE: Police Dispatcher
KIDS: yup-
LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: 3 br, 1.5 ba, Jess, Jada and that darn cat, Hollie
NAUGHTIEST CHILDHOOD BEHAVIOR: swearing and fighting my cousin Sandra (defending myself)
OVERNIGHT HOSPITAL STAYS: Yes-three of them: 1)a childbirth, 2) a hysterectomy, 3) mysterious, excruciating headache
PHOBIAS: fear of snakes (ophiophobia)
QUOTE: life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. ~Anais Nin
RELIGION: faithful, Christian, open
SIBLINGS: one sister, and a brother i really don't know (both are half sibs)
TIME I WAKE UP: 2 p.m. (I get off work at 6 am)
UNUSUAL TALENT OR SKILL: good question! painting? writing? talking?
WORST TRAIT: procrastinating, moody
X-RAYS: clear and clean. not one broken bone
YUMMY STUFF I COOK: meatloaf, pecan pie, pumpkin roll, biscuits.

Thursday, February 15, 2007


Well, I had myself psyched to go to Columbus to test, but Mother Nature decides "Hey,Cleveland hasn't had a blizzard since 1993? Where's my head; well they are overdue. "
And here comes the snow!

Columbus is a 2 to 2 1/2 hour ride. I figured I would give myself 3 hours to get there and another 30 minutes to find my way around the maze of one-way streets.

I knew that Cleveland would have snow on my return trip. I checked, on a whim, Columbus' forecast. Well, they have a snowstorm coming up from the south. So, I would drive into their snowstorm and come back all the way with snow.

I debated, but decided not to go. I could just imagine my little car slipping and sliding all the way around Columbus and the entire 130 miles back to Cleveland. No, thanks.

Columbus ended up shutting down their highways at about 1 pm, or so. Just about the time my test was due to end.

I'm a little bummed, but not too much.

I hate winter.

I came out of my house today and there was snow up to my knee. The drifts were up to my hip. We got about 22 to 25 inches of snow. This is inhumane. Right now it's 2 degrees, -19 degrees with the windchill.


I want to live somewhere that doesn't concern itself with 'windchill'!

Ugh! And sometimes we even get snow in April.

Monday, February 12, 2007


No longer training the All Knowing-Inexperienced- Arrogant- I am ready to work overtime-Trainee!!!!!!!

(I mean really, I only have about 11 years of experience, what could I possibly teach?)


WHEW! Won't be doing that again-- until they hire the next one!!!!

I am turning cartwheels.

What a relief.

OK, now to the lesson of it all. I am proud of my field, I enjoy what I do. I started out at a large city department. At first I did not think I would be able to handle it. To do it well you have to kind of be three of four people all at once. You hear horrible things. You have to calm terrified people, over a phone line, so that you can decipher what has happened. You have to know what resources are available and through whom. And, you always have to know where your officers are. It's not just walking and chewing gum.

It is not a matter of being trained for a few days and you're on your own. It's three months of sitting with a trainer. Because no two calls are the same. Knowing how to get to the meat of an issue is a special skill.

Lately, I have been grumbling about my job. I was thinking that I did not want to do it anymore.

But, the truth of the matter is I just don't like my current employer.

Tomorrow morning I am scheduled to test with another agency. I was thinking of not going.
I have reconsidered.

I love what I do. I love knowing that I have helped someone. I need to get back to that.


Sunday, January 28, 2007

Bitching! You can skip this one, it's a pity party.

May as well call it what it is...

I am tired. I am fighting off a cold. I worked six days in a row this week for a total of 62 hours. (No, I VOLUNTEERED for it. Being in the Army should have taught me to never volunteer, but I never learn). I got a complaint from a guy who did not like that I put him on hold. In addition to working doubles, my co-worker did not come in for 3 days. So it's just me and the guy I'm training all night. WHICH MEANS IT'S JUST ME! Give me a fucking break already!

I freaking HATE snow, temps in the teens, and snowstorms. I hate flat tires, especially at 6 am, when hardly anything is open, then you have to fish around for 3 quarters for AIR! It was so cold that after 20 seconds my hands were blocks of ice, with gloves. No one is supposed to live with temperatures in the teens, and below zero wind chills! It's inhumane! (See, Kelly, I told you I'd be bitching about the weather soon enough.)

I have been dreaming about my father and my grandmother this week. I just woke up with an ache in my stomach and my heart.

I am lonely. Hate that. HATE it.

I can't even go wander the art museum because they are renovating and are only open for special exhibits.

I wish I could just have 1 month where I was not the mature, responsible one. I want to be the one who 'forgot' or doesn't show up. I want to be the LAST one someone calls when they need whatever they need today. I mean, at work, I am training because NO ONE else wanted to do it. Our boss asked us all, and no one answered. So he comes to me and says please, and blows smoke, and here I am training. I went to nights to get away from all of the BS. Here I am, Little Susie Sunshine, 'Sure Juan, I'll train him. No problem.' WTF ! Damn, Damn, Damn!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to train someone to be ready for anything and to miss nothing? There is no training manual or formula for that.

Just shoot me!

I'll get over myself in a day or two.


Saturday, January 27, 2007

Serena is BACK!

I love tennis. I mean, LOVE TENNIS. And I would be lying if I did not admit that I think Serena Williams is damn sexy.

(but I digress)

Did anyone see her spank Maria Sharapova's butt? She disposed of her in short order. IT WAS BEAUTIFUL.


SIXTY THREE MINUTES. She beat her 6-1, 6-2. Sharapova couldn't even get herself together. She was quite ill-equipped. Serena Williams wasn't even ranked coming into the Tournament.

Now, don't get me wrong Sharapova is very talented, but Serena won so effortlessly. It was classic. She rocked. I mean it really was just beautiful.

Serena is back.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Trying to Motivate Myself

I have been pretty upset with myself lately.

I still am not painting or writing. It is driving me crazy.

I miss painting. I miss my artwork.

I am finally not angry with myself about it. For a long time I felt that I had given so much of my energy to other people that I had neglected what was beautiful within me; and once I realized my mistake it was too late, my creativity had been left out in the rain and was ruined.

For years I felt that I had nothing to say.

Now, I feel that even if I did, who'd care to hear it?

So, these are a sketch from last years life drawing class, two old paintings (Salome and I'm Ready) and one more recent sketch (Red Corset) that still has not made it out of my sketchbook and onto watercolor paper.
I hate being stuck.


copyright 2007

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

What people don't understand about terror

I was elated when I first heard the news that not just one, but two kidnapped boys were found and returned to their relieved families. The elder had been held for more than four years.

I have since been frustrated at how 'perplexed' people are that the elder of the two did not try to escape his captor nor let any of his friends know the truth.

I don't question that he did not bring any attention to himself. I guess it is just that most people have never seen such things up close. I guess I would compare it to adult victims of domestic violence who don't leave or children who are molested and rarely, if ever, tell.

Imagine, not with your adult mind but as your eleven year old self, that you are taken from all that you know. Imagine that you are innocently out riding your bike and suddenly your whole world becomes chaos. Imagine the power that someone would show you they have by doing what they want to you. Taking you away from all you know, everyone you love, and threatening you and your family if you do anything that displeases them.

Imagine how powerless you would feel. Every waking moment you would try to not displease someone who seems more powerful than God (surely you prayed to not wake up in this nightmare, only to wake up to find yourself still there).

Not everyone is a fighter. Not every spirit can survive oppression, abuse, or constant fear.

No one should know such things. So, I do not understand why adults think this child peculiar. How many adults remain in abusive relationships and never say a word about the abuse to anyone, even those closest to them? Plenty. Most people do not know the kind of fear that stops you in your tracks and renders you helpless. No fight. No flight. No sarcastic comebacks. Just paralyzing fear. It's easy to say 'well, I would have...'. The truth of the matter is that unless you have been there you don't know what you would have done.

How easy would it be to exert control over the right type of person, especially for a predator who preys on the weaknesses of others. Mind control is what it's all about. Sometimes they miscalculate and get a fighter/runner/biter/kicker/screamer, and sometimes their instincts are dead on and they get someone who will become docile under their control.

I understand that most people have no clue when it comes to the things that some human beings are capable of doing to others. Sure, people think they know. People carry mace, have alarm systems on their cars and homes, lock their doors and windows, hold their purses closer to their bodies when they pass someone 'suspicious' on the street. However, they never realize that the most dangerous people rarely make them check the locks on their doors. The most dangerous ones are the ones whose neighbors say 'he was always such a nice guy', or 'he kept his yard so tidy', because what else do you say when you've lived across the street from evil and never recognized it because the yard was pretty.

I wish none of us ever had to understand.


Thursday, January 4, 2007

People are Strange

I work in Downtown Cleveland. We have a problem with the homeless panhandling in the area.

I wear a uniform to work. I am an African-American female. My hair is locked (dread locked). I work full time, earn a decent penny, and own my home (in a suburb). I am a quick-witted, polite, well-read Starbucks fiend who is only rude if someone comes between me and my grande-traditional (dark)-roast-with-hazelnut-and-room-for-cream (and 2 equal) [this is all said in one breath]. I am divorced, a mom, a lesbian, a writer, a painter...I mean really who has time for all their labels; what is most important for this posting is that I am a law abiding, employed, relatively normal citizen (I mean, really, I even VOTE).

I am fat and need to lose weight, but at 5'4", intimidating is not one of the labels I would think apply to me, at all.

But am I?

I have come to see that on any given day, regardless of the time of day, I strike fear in the hearts of those who pass me.

Most days I laugh at this. I have arrived at 1:40 for my 2:00 shift and asked passersby if they had change for a dollar (dollar in hand) and they would speed past me or say no! Men walking fast with change jingling in their pockets. WTF? You gotta laugh. Most days.

I have walked down the street and watched women move their purses to the other side of their bodies.

Oh shit. Most time, I must admit, if I am in a very bad mood, I will look over as she is passing and say "BOO!" Bitchy, I know but WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU SEE?

I am a police dispatcher. I can check any U.S. citizen for warrants, driving records, criminal history, etc. I can find out all sorts of nifty information with just one other piece of information, I get paid well to know how to do this. In the military I had a security clearance. I know Korean, and some Spanish (more than most people but not fluently). I have heard more shit about the things that human beings do to one another than most people could even imagine. But, for whatever reason, even wearing that uniform with the badge and the police department patch, I am frightening to some people. And, wearing that uniform, I am invisible and dispensible to others.

I want to say that this never bothers me.

But, I haven't lied to you before, why would I want to start now.

It infuriates me.

My former sister-in-law, used to have her boyfriends call our house, listen to our answering machine and then have a ball because the guy would never guess that it was a black woman speaking. She'd corner them into conversations where they swore that they could tell some one's race by their voice; she always won the bet. She got a kick out of explaining that I was her sister's girlfriend. I should probably call Beth and give her my new phone number, just for giggles.

Every so often I call a store and ask an employee to hold something for me and it rarely fails that when I get there they have a hard time hearing me. Not because I don't speak well, but because they were expecting something else. I mean I don't look like my name should be Kellie--in their minds at least. I know what's going through their minds when they say "What's your name?"
They are expecting something 'ethnic' or 'colorful', and I don't mean to disappoint. Kelly is a shade of green, so it has some color to it. But, it seems that they are listening hard for something else: a unique name, or poor diction. I guess the disappointment of not having to work hard to decipher my meaning causes a shortage. I end up repeating myself anyway. Now it's a running joke in my family, we wait for it and laugh. I know they can understand me; I talk for a living.

It is my job to be articulate and clear.

But at those moments, I also feel very alone. Because even though I know I haven't done anything wrong I am still the one viewed as suspicious.

I mean, of course that guy should have made sure his alarm was set when he turned and saw... ME?


Is it my brown skin? My nappy, nontraditional styled hair? My uniform? Or is it racism or classist?

It's not just downtown. At my favorite lesbian bar, I am eyed suspiciously. My hair is too long and ethnic. I wear make-up (most times), carry a purse, wear tight jeans and heels. Though I enjoy Killian's, I often order red wine--preferably a Zinfandel. I mean I just don't fit in.

I stick out like a sore thumb nearly everywhere I go.

But I am tired of being polite in the face of other people's rude behavior. I am tired of turning the other cheek.

The only place that I have not found this, recently, has been my church...and I haven't been there in months.

I mean I really wish I could have people know that I am not anything they would probably assume of me.

I took my last semester of classes on line. I would bet that most of the students in my English class especially, where I earned something ridiculous like 107%, would pass out if they had a picture to accompany my ass-kicking essays and test scores.

But the truth of the matter is, I am glad that those people walk on by, because if they are so shallow that they cannot see past my hair or skin color or uniform, they do not deserve my time.

The thing most people don't get is that we are all outsiders, somewhere and in some way.

Being different is the tie that binds us-it is what most of us know. It is one chord that rings true most often among us.

But, it sure is lonely and cold sometimes walking alone.

For everyone who can relate, in one way or another, I dedicate People Are Strange by The Doors (yup, I'm a fan; please don't say you're surprised)

People are strange, when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked, when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven, when you're down

When you're strange- faces come out of the rain (rain, rain)
When you're strange- no one remembers your name
When you're strange, when you're strange, when you're str-ange


PS: I hope you can see the irony of the situation. I am the person who people call for help, often in their worse moments; but on the streets they run from me. It really does make me laugh out loud as long as I am having a day where I can laugh at it. Every day is different.

29th Carnival of Feminists actually included ME...

Oh My Goodness....I am so late.

I have been included in the 29Th Carnival of Feminists being hosted at the imponderabilia of actual life. It was posted on December 20Th and with all of the hub-bub from the holidays, I did not even realize that I had been included. In fact, I thought that my submission may have been too much.

I submitted Last Night I Decolonized My Thighs.

There are quite a few different topics covered in this edition: violence, sexism, labor paid and unpaid, and work/life balance, status and equality, our selves our bodies and our choices, books and history and, a miscellaneous. It's very interesting reading, and honestly after looking at it, I am surprised and proud to be included.

Take a look, read, enjoy, explore new blogs.