storm indigo

Did Dante Know You?

2011-10-22T17:37:00.000-04:00

The Five Rivers in hades:

Acheron - the river of woe
Cocytus - the river of lamentation
Phlegethon - the river of fire
Lethe - the river of forgetfulness
Styx - the river of hate

Acheron and Cocytus, woe and lamentation. I finally escaped their muck and mire.
Phlegethon, the fire. Oh, I have been forged and refined by the heat.
Lethe, forgetfulness. Who knew hell could offer a blessing?
Styx, hate. This is where I take my leave, and pray these waters leave me be.
Even your brand of hades cannot take away the god in me.

Love...

2011-07-18T21:19:00.000-04:00

Love...
looks ahead;
forgives;
is not fearful;
isn't resentful;
doesn't cut;
isn't a weapon;
doesn't hurt;
is healthy;
is sexy;
is playful;
is funny;
talks late into the night:
laughs often;
does not tear up the very foundation on which it's built;
doesn't cut with words or deeds;
isn't passive-aggressive;
is a soft place;
offers cushion from the bruises the world can offer;
doesn't strangle joy;
blushes red with passion again and again, and again;
allows us to shelter each other;
dries tears;
rubs backs;
takes joy in anothers joy;
is naughty;
loves back;
cradles;
cushions;
is beautiful;
is a gift;
doesn't look back;
is worth the gamble. Get lucky;
is loose and free;
is more precious than gold;
is free;
is Free;
IS FREE!

Happy Memorial Day

2011-05-27T16:33:00.001-04:00

My post for this weekend is on Indigo Storm. http://indigostorm.blogspot.com/2011/05/happy-memorial-day.html

Have a beautiful weekend.

If you know any Veterans, let them know you appreciate them. If you know any who could have been exposed to Agent Orange, love them enough to tell them to have their doctor check them for kidney disease.

Peace,

Storm

what melts away...

2011-04-01T05:45:00.001-04:00

With the exception of my job and my family, of course, my life looks nothing today like it did a few years ago. I am very different; physically, emotionally and spiritually different. I feel less than I was, like I have lost so very much. I look back on what I knew for sure, and now I have to laugh because I am not sure of anything.

I find myself alone and starting over. I am here with nothing but plants and boxes. I need to get used to being by myself. I don't have to take care of anything but my plants, besides myself of course. I hate coming home to an empty apartment, but I sleep better than I did before. I have a better view; hopefully my outlook will follow.

I have been through the deepest valley, deeper than anything I could ever imagine. I'm not through it yet, but God is great and now I think I can see a faint light. The pieces I can see of myself are unrecognizable. Sometimes, I think I shouldn't move further into the light because I am afraid of what I will see. I have been lost in that valley for well over a year, with some companions- wine, sorrow, immobility, and bitter tears. Did I mention the wine? It has been a long time since I felt like the old me. I felt better for a while but sabotaged it--amazing what depression will tell you.

So, now what? What do you do when you feel like a stranger in your own life? When you emerge from the storm cellar only to find a foreign landscape, how do you begin? I realize that I was a poison to everything and everyone. I have done irreparable damage to relationships and my career. I realize that the best thing to do is ~~take a handful of pills or jump over the balcony~~ take it a day at a time, be kind to myself, ease off the wine, and pray that when I make it into the light, i still have the parts of me that I used to like.

Peace

still learning

2010-12-21T02:54:00.002-05:00

I love too hard, I know I do. I love until it’s more important than…well, more important than me.

I love for keeps. I love until I’m too bruised to be of any use to myself.

That is not love. (No, I won't break car windows, or stalk anyone)

I don’t know how to love without squeezing the life out of it. I run full force, crashing into the walls people build to protect themselves. I run until I'm tired and bruised and breathless; cry until my eyes are swollen. I don’t stop until I am too broken to not stop.

Mine is not a healthy way to love.

I find myself spent and having surrendered in the ashes. And the love I suffered over had been protected in their protective walls. They awaken to find only embers where a lover had been standing, unattended. The loss seems sudden and unfair.

So I can share the only thing I know for sure…

No one should thrash against protective glass. The only one who hears you is you.

Oh, and don’t mistake suffering for love. The suffering, that’s life.

Kindred Spirit

2010-08-26T04:32:00.008-04:00

Kindred spirit please know that I see you, through the tears and the pain.
Kindred spirit please know that I hear you, through the wind and the rain.

This pain we know, not many have felt: the depth of the emptiness
and the breadth of the sorrow.
This dispair that comes wandering in like a vagabond or
blowing in like a storm.

How can we explain the struggle it is to remain rooted in the midst of a tsunami?

After the roar of the winds leaves in its wake pain, devastation and an exhaustion which seem eternal.
After the roar of the winds is silence...

a strong, loving, comforting voice says:(Isaiah 40:28-31)

28Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding.

29He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.

30Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall:

31But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

Who are we to doubt His word?

I Have Never Been More

2010-06-13T00:29:00.000-04:00

The love I feel for you,
Deep, nurturing;
Is the purest thing I have ever felt.

The joy you give,
Consumes, warms;
It extends to wherever I dare venture.

The beauty of a new life,
Innocent, dependent;
Is the biggest adventure I have ever embarked upon.

I have never been more at peace
Than here, now;
with you in my arms.

Happiness and Change

2010-05-25T05:17:00.002-04:00

    This past weekend I met with a group of women who are new to me. This is my second month meeting with them and I am nervous and excited to be in their midst. I find them interesting and creative, intelligent and funny, myriad and beautiful. I found myself trying to figure out how I factor into this group. I have, so far, come away with some new pebble to turn over repeatedly in terms of a new thought or way of looking at things. It's an exciting addition to my life and since being a feminist is really central to who I am, it's an honor.

    So, we talked about change. At first I thought, well I don't have any big changes going on so I'll be doing a lot of listening. Change is terrifying for me. Change can incapacitate me. No, I don't get uptight because I have to learn something new or a brand changes it's packaging. I am talking about real changes: moving, a new job, ending or beginning a relationship. The real stuff stops me in my tracks. I would sit still in an unhealthy relationship for years before braving the unknown. My best friend and I call it dealing with the blank. I don't want to do it, anything beats the blank.

   As I began talking I realized, I have a great deal of change in my life right now. I mean really, my life in about six months will look unlike it has in my whole life. The way things are is drastically different from how it was 2 years ago. This is the first time in my adult life that I have only had to take care of myself. I am free to do whatever I want.

   So, I took three classes last semester. I am not sure that the 'American Dream' of the house in the suburbs is going to fit my life--or pocket. If I wake up and don't cook or clean, then so what. It's actually foreign to me. I have finally gotten used to living alone, for the most part.

    So, if I want to pick up and move across the country, I can. If I want to quit my job and take a position that pays less but is more fulfilling, I can. I don't want to make less money or worry about benefits. I also don't want to sit in a position with zero opportunity for growth.

    My cousin, Nick, has been trying to get me to move to Las Vegas for at least 8 years. He can't understand why I insist on having a job before I move. It was different then, I had my daughter. However, I still have that hesitation. I hate this city; the weather, the people, the mentality. The only thing I absolutely adore is the lake. Living by a lake is incredible. I cannot imagine living somewhere without a large body of water.

    I actually have a great deal of change in my life. It's quite a crossroads. Like most major crossroads I have faced, it has come towards the end of a major depression. It's as if I have to go through some horrible emotional rebirth and if I manage to survive, everything is different. The problem is that I often lose something along the way. This journey has cost me dearly and I just don't know how much more I can lose.

   OK, yes, that really is bullshit. I do realize that if I stay, I will still be depressed and will lose even more. I realize that I would probably lose less if I didn't fight change until all I had left were tatters. If I were to let go when that first insistent gust tried to urge me on my way, I would be better off. I wouldn't have lost my rose-colored glasses, my sense of easiness and confidence with myself, or my confidence in my creativity.

   So, I guess the question now is, how much more do I need to lose. What am I willing to do without?  I already have precious little sanity, and my creativity is starting to slowly brew again.

Wow. I lose even more when I fight change.

That's big.

  So, now what do I do? Where do I start?

untitled

2010-05-20T05:02:00.002-04:00

i went and got a nice big box,
i wrapped it with a nice big bow,
i gave it to my lover,
i gave it to my love.

she put the lid back on the box
and moved it to the side.
she thanked me for my thoughtfulness
and said she knows i tried.

imagine my surprise to see, oh my surprise to find
my love used it to dust the room and make the windows shine.
she tidied up her room and then to clean the car
and after all that work, it's on the floor in the dark.

she used it til it shredded and dulled. she used it til it faded
she used it til it fell apart, was all used up and degraded.
she threw it in the garbage can, she threw it in the bin,
Now she wants me to show my love, where do I begin?

Iona Rozeal Brown at MOCA Cleveland

2010-03-20T16:20:00.002-04:00

There are two exhibits at MOCA Cleveland until about May 9, 2010. From Then To Now: Masterworks of Contemporary African American Art features many well known artists like Kara Walker, Faith Ringgold, Alison Saar, Richard Hunt, Willie Cole, Kehinde Wiley and Alma W. Thomas. It was fabulous.

The other exhibit is Iona Rozeal Brown's All Falls Down. This exhibit is fabulous! This exhibit is based on a mythology which features a warrior, yoshi and villains, E.I.N. (everything i'm not) and the hoochie puti. Brown uses a mix of Japanese Ukiyo-e prints and hip-hip imagery in her vivid works.

I was beyond impressed. I was thrilled. The mythology was indepth, the heroines looked like me--curvy with natural hair. This art made me feel fantabulous. This is what art is supposed to do for one's spirit.

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why

2010-03-19T04:36:00.000-04:00

The beauty of a sonnet. I just wanted to share

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why by Edna St. Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more.

an old attempt at haiku

2010-03-12T04:11:00.001-05:00

Sensual kisses
Hidden from the light of day
Overwhelm the night

Just A Question

2010-03-10T05:30:00.000-05:00

If I tell you that thunderstorms turn me on......

and you sit outside...to wait it out....

...

...

Are you waiting out the storm or this Storm?

I Am The Pin-Up Queen Of My Own Universe

2010-03-10T04:57:00.007-05:00

I watched The Notorious Bettie Page for my favorite class. Yes, it was for school! Really!

Anyway. I have a very different aesthetic when it comes to certain things. That being said, I adore Bettie Page. I don't look at her photos and judge her harshly, I laugh and enjoy her as it seems she enjoyed herself. I view Anna Nicole Smith and Marilyn Monroe in much the same light. But Bettie is different. The director, Mary Harron described Bettie as innocent, like a playful, little girl playing dress-up. She had no agenda. She would never fit the role of feminist. Though she clearly enjoyed the attention of the camera, as well as various states of undress, there was still a genuine sensuality and enjoyment that never reached the point of vulgarity. (I know, what I find adorable is another person's vulgar, and viva la difference!)

In the film, a female photographer Bunny Yeager says there is something about Bettie. It's like she's nude but not naked. It just seems that she's comfortable with her sexuality. There was no sex in her movies or photos and compared to today's porn, hers is just fluff. The thing about her is that innocence and that openness.

I think there is a little bit of Bettie Page's spirit in me. Wait a minute, I know I am NO ONE'S idea of a Pin-Up, but if you read Last Night I Decolonized My Thighs maybe you will understand what I mean. Though, I am a bit vulgar in that post, there is a bit of unabashedness to it that I love about myself. I love being able to be myself. I enjoy being able to be open and playful. I love for my love to be receptive and safe so that I may open up even more. Within a loving, receptive relationship should there be a limit? Need there be? Yes, of course there are limits to every person's comfort level, but I hope to find the limit of mine. This part of me, however, is not very agressive. It's actually pretty shy, and though I will try to let this side show, if it is pushed away, then it's something that doesn't come back easily. And what I end up wondering is why can't I be fully ME.

What would that look like? Where would that leave me? Is there anyone out there who can handle that? Anyone who wants to? When I am happy and open, I am creative and playful, more outgoing and just better. When I feel loved for who I am it is the most awesome thing ever. If I am able to find what I love to do, should I have to hold back? It doesn't make sense. It has been a while since I tapped into my inner Bettie-- I may be more Ugly Bettie than Bettie Page, but you get my drift. What matters is being able to be who we are, being able to be freely ourselves, and being loved just as we are. The real question is what am I willing to do to be fully open?

Busy

2010-02-11T04:06:00.001-05:00

I am back in school at my advanced age. The thing of it is, now that I have raised my daughter I cannot get any financial help.   That is not fair.

I am enjoying it though. I bit off a bit too much by going back full time...nothing like jumping right into the deep end. So, I am determined not to drown. Being an 'adult' student helps though.   I am more confident. I am enjoying writing. I am nervous though. The first time I took a class on this campus, I was 17 years old and so lost. I wasn't confident. I didn't know what the professor was talking about and I felt that I shouldn't be there. I felt that everyone else in the room understood. Now, if I'm lost, I speak up. I assume that other people are lost also, and even if they aren't, I AM.   I am probably annoying to the other students but I don't care about that either. It's kinda cool.

I actually love all 3 of my classes, all for different reasons. I really like my women's studies prof., she's cool, smart, unabashedly feminist, awesome!   I like my religion class so far because we are reading various theories. It's sort of dry, but it makes sense and is very interesting. It makes me look at things differently. My english class is awesome for me because I am learning things that I need to know and enjoying putting it to use. I sit at the front, and have to make myself not monopolize the conversation. I love it. I Love It. I LOVE IT!

I like to learn. It feels as good as writing and painting, cooking, creating.

I even started a poem yesterday. There's no telling when it will be finished, but I started it.

Happy 2010!

2010-01-02T13:31:00.000-05:00

I am so happy to see a new year. Let's get rolling 2010. I have things to do.

No, no resolutions. I generally don't make them. I tend to start things in January because the holidays have ended but that's about it. I have things I need to work on, as ever, but no real resolutions.

All I have is the feeling that things will be better for me this year, especially since last year was so very difficult. This new year's feels like a wide open window on the first seasonable day.

Fresh air; a new start; a clean slate.

Happy New Year.

My Dad

2009-12-12T03:14:00.001-05:00

Last week would have been my dad's 69th birthday.

He passed nine and a half years ago, and I miss him still.

I have days when I wish I could talk to him. For differing reasons, some days to ask what I was like as a child and sometimes just to find out the name of an actor or a movie.

I have moments when I wish I could share a movie or some music with him.

I miss his laugh.

I regret the way things were at the end.

I carried so much guilt, even though he and I were both wrong.

I loved the way my dad interacted with children. He was funny, and really listened when most adults didn't.

I love him for sharing his love of football, golf, jazz, books and learning. My dad had a respect for my inquisitive spirit. He taught me that it was ok to ask questions and look for answers--no matter what the subject.

My Daddy wasn't my hero, not exactly. I had no misconceptions about who he was. I knew he cheated on my mom, hadn't graduated school, got into trouble as a kid, started smoking in elementary school...I could go on but it doesn't matter. He was my Daddy. I loved him even though I did not like some things. I loved him and felt that he loved and understood me...until I came out.

Still, I miss him.

I miss him still.

Love

2009-12-02T04:29:00.000-05:00

I know

you love me

but loving without

touching

is like

breathing

without

air.

20 Nov 2009

The Dark

2009-11-01T15:09:00.003-05:00

I hate the dark.

No, it's not the same as being afraid of the dark. Though, I am a little afraid of it too (nervous smile). I breathe a little easier once I reach the lamp. I am relieved to see everything is as I left it and no one uninvited is waiting.

That is not what I mean here. I hate being alone in the dark, with nothing to see, hearing nothing, feeling nothing. I hate the sensory deprivation.

I am sensual. I need to see. The painter in me caresses things with my eyes. I enjoy following the line of a face, hand, shoulder with my eyes. By the time I put my hand out to touch, I feel an anticipation and excitement that I cannot explain. I enjoy calculating the amount of french ultramarine I would need to add to prussian to get the blue of your shirt. I enjoy feeling skin next to my own. I like looking at clothing and by being able to hear and see it, knowing what it will feel like. I like the feel of a warm hand on the small of my back. I like the warmth it generates up and down my spine.

I like to hear love in my lover's voice. Sometimes I am less sophisticated and need the love spoken and spelled out.

Don't get me wrong, I am not selfish. I like to give as I wish to receive. I like to wear soft fabrics to make one wonder if it can even compare to my soft skin. I like to say what feels good to my body, to my heart, what looks good to my eye. I like to share what makes the sensations I am living in any moment special. I try to make sure that the people I love know that I do and why I do.

Well, I am not completely selfish because I do want it back.

I like being called baby or honey or something sweet that says I am cherished. If someone thinks there is something special about me I would love to know it. It might just make me walk on clouds all week. The payback is that I will want to do something to make them feel the same way. I like to be held as one does precious things.

I love having my face touched and kissed. I love it. In all honesty I love being touched and kissed all over. I try my best to give as good as I get.

I love being held or told I was thought about. I especially like to know I was missed. I want to be flirted with and romanced. I want to be loved back. I am happy to cook, massage, or run a bath and I feel cherished when those things are done for me.

I like to smell the people I love. (Blushing) I do. I always sniff my grand daughters and even my daughter, but don't tell her. It comforts me. I don't expect that from anyone else, but if there is something about me that brings comfort it would be beautiful to know.

So, sitting in the dark without any input of touch, sight, taste, sound, or smell is literally painful for me. It literally hurts me. I do not know how to not touch the people I love. In my mind no touch is no love. If love is felt, sometimes it should be spoken. Life is too short to not have, show, bring, or feel passion, and if you aren't passionate about the one you are with maybe that says all that it should.

This is not somewhere I can stay.
My spirit cannot thrive in the dark.

storm indigo, kind of blue

2009-10-28T04:31:00.005-04:00

You are as blue as this name would indicate. Indigo, the deepest blue, the black of blues. A storm of the blackest blues. Sad and lonely, vulnerable and alone.

This kind of blue sneaks up on you. It's not like you enter a room knowing this particular tempest awaits. No one would do so knowing her wily ways. No. This kind of blue is seductive. She starts out as the most faint hue of blue,barely a whisper. It's overlooked, thought to be a lack of sleep or a busy schedule. As she becomes baby blue, though you see her, she's thought to be just a momentary glitch. After you get some rest this weekend and eat better, you'll be as good as new.

She chuckles at your hubris. She is amused, wondering how long it will take for you to realize her beautiful depths, how long before you realize who's in charge. As she turns to a brilliant blue, you still won't acknowledge that you are beginning to lose the race. Though you are wondering if you still have a prescription. By now she's wrapped herself around your chest.

You awaken to find that you have neither the strength nor the desire to get out of bed. You realize that the whisper of blue has become a prussian toned system limiting your visibility and scattering everything you worked hard to plant. Powerless, you just lay in bed wondering how you got there. How did you get so weak? When did she get so strong?

And after many weeks, maybe today is the day? The sky is the blackest of blues and it's only 1 P.M. The wind sounds like a train heading over a cliff. The sky has become a cloud, and the cloud is reaching for you. She has enclosed you, squeezing while you gasp helplessly. The vicious cloud is smashing all that you are; destroying all that you have.

No one around you seems to notice; everyone else is enjoying the sun.

Where will you land this time?

The Power of Touch

2009-10-21T04:53:00.001-04:00

My granddaughter, when she hasn't seen me for more than a week, gives me a big hug and then looks directly into my eyes with her little hands on each side of my face. Then she smiles at me and puts her forehead on mine. We usually kiss each other on the cheek and hug a little longer. She's three.

When I have not seen my granddaughter for more than a week, I find myself looking forward to her hug. I look forward to her always, but she is the only one who touches my face. I find myself missing her touch. I find myself missing the way she looks right into my eyes. The way she looks at me and says 'I missed you Mama". A touch and eye contact; powerful stuff.

It amazes me that sometimes if I don't see her for three or four weeks, I ache for her to touch my face. I miss her intense hug. I am blessed abundantly to have her. I am more myself with her around me. I am greatful for everyone that I love. My family of origin as well as my family of choice are all important to me. As it is for most everyone. It is another of the things that make us more alike than different.

Big Hug.

The Pull Towards Water

2009-09-25T02:25:00.002-04:00

I often feel myself pulled toward water. I am fortunate enough to live near Lake Erie. While it's not the most glamorous location, it is a luxury to be near water. I find myself driving to the lake whenever I feel the need for strength greater than my own. If I have been knocked down, feel down, anxious, or just need to think I find myself at the Lake. I have loved being at the Lake since I was in high school. One year our Retreat was at a high school with grounds along the shore. It was a windy fall day. Between the wind, the mist, and the power of the water I was hooked. To this day, I cannot imagine living in a city without a large body of water.

I have been feeling lost lately. Overwhelmed and lonely, I went down to the lake. There is something amazing about being next to such power. The lake makes me feel small and frail. It makes me see myself in perspective--compared to the world. And while it did help me gain a little perspective, I only magnified my loneliness and alone-ness. I feel so disconnected from everyone that I love. This time the lake gave me a guage with which to measure my own depths.

Praying for Peace

The Kindness of Strangers

2009-09-25T02:12:00.003-04:00

The kindness of strangers is so often a blessing. It is another proof of goodness, truly Godliness in this world. This is a great thing. Seeing how beautifully we louse things up with the people we know, it's good to know that there are strangers who are willing to help.

The beauty of being a stranger is that when the opportunity to be kind presents itself, we decide based on our own compass, without having to factor in the degree of the damage we've already taken.

My Love For You

2009-07-30T03:44:00.001-04:00

My body vibrates with love for you.

My eyes dance over you whenever I see you. From your eyes to your lips, and then your hands.

My arms long to hold you close to my body. I want to hold you close enough to smell you and taste you.

My hands cannot rest until I touch you. Your head and face; your arms and hands. You.

My breasts ache for your mouth, your touch.

My legs reach for you in the night. Wanting to wrap around you, keeping you close to me. Keeping you inside me.

When I think of you, my honey begins to flow. I am distracted and hungry to touch, smell, and taste you.

My love for you is real and true. It encompasses every thing. This desire for you is deep and makes me yearn for you every day.

How to Warm Up After a Snow Storm

2009-06-25T05:44:00.004-04:00

It seemed that most of the snow storms hit overnight while she was working. This one started while she was driving to work. Now, at six in the morning, she had to rock her car out of the foot of snow that had built up around it.

It was cold out. She was even colder after scraping the snow and ice off the car windows. Her little car slid most of the way home. Alex was patient. The advantage of trying to get home at this time of the morning is knowing that her work day is done and she can relax and try to get home safely. She watched out for everyone else though. They were trying to rush to work, even though there was no safe way to rush with the roads full of this packed snow. She called it cookie dough. It was like cookie dough, the snow on the roads; rough and lumpy enough to make most vehicles slide.

Her usual commute was 20 minutes. Today it took over an hour to get home, and another 15 to make it into the driveway. She parked and made her way into the side door. She left all her snow dampened clothing hanging in the hall. In the kitchen, she started water for tea then went into the living room and turned on the TV. It felt that she'd never thaw out.

She went into the bedroom to change out of her uniform and realized that her lover was still in bed. She looked at the covers crumpled onto her side of the bed, and felt the breeze from the open window. Her love always slept with the window opened. She watched her sleeping peacefully. Her love was usually awake before now. It must have been a restless night. The bed was a testament to it.

As she watched her sleeping. She thought of all the times she wanted to come home to someone. She thought of all the laughter they shared, the dinners they ate, their long conversations and even their quiet moments. She thought of all they shared and how she could not imagine her life without her. With each warm thought, her body thawed.

She went back downstairs and turned off the TV and the kettle. Upstairs in their room, she laid down behind her love, kissed her shoulder and held her tight. She couldn't remember ever feeling this warm before.

Lightness

2009-06-05T02:35:00.006-04:00

Wrap me in your light and feed my heart with love.
Blanket me with all that is pure and beautiful.
The universe embraces me with joy as bright as the sun.
I am loved at the speed of light for evermore.

This Is Not Lust

2009-04-28T04:02:00.005-04:00

New Poem, your feedback welcome...

This is not lust
Wanting to taste, feel, please
Every inch of you.
It is not simply carnal
The desire to tease and be teased
As much as I want to love and be loved.

This is about love
The kind that makes me
Run you a bath,
Learn to cook your favorites,
Sleep in your pajamas.
I want to love and be loved
Until you can feel my heart
Through my fingers, my tongue, my lips.
No, Baby, this could never be as simple as lust.

To Dread or Not to Dread, That is the Question

2009-04-22T00:31:00.007-04:00

I have been locked for 8 years and 8 months. I love my locks. I think they say something about both my strength and my vulnerability at the same time...this is probably only apparent to me. Even in my off-beat, self-indulgent, self-expression, there is the understanding that I am reaching out to the Universe, to God, and begging that the Almighty touch me. It is at once a statement and a prayer.

That is the most articulate way that I have to explain without non-verbals, like touch. This is not just a 'hairstyle'. It is a prayer. As my writing is a prayer, as my paintings are/were prayers.

9 years ago, I could not open a magazine or look at an inviting, smiling face, without seeing dreadlocks. It seemed that the Universe itself was willing me in this direction. Now, I do not feel that connection. I do not feel that pull. It is a prayer that while I cannot, truly will not say is unanswered---I will say that today it feels like a desperate plea. It seems to be a yearning that is still unfilled.

Much like the caress that never comes from a lover. That moment one hopes for when a lover, the one that you pray is THE ONE, opens the door/window/wall/whatever and lets you know that your loving, praying, cooking, sexing, crying, wanting and waiting is not in vain. That moment that lets you know that who you are is more than just 'OK'. That lets you know that they won't be the same if you leave. There is a longing unanswered when that moment does not come.

Although I love my locks, I still long for that moment. That caress from the Universe, that cradle of comfort, peace, healing. So selfish, I know but 'every living thing wants to be loved'(Shug Avery, The Color Purple). Although I will always yearn for that caress from the Universe, I no longer feel the need to carry a hairstyle to signal that longing. I just pray that this emancipation from the physical does not set me adrift spiritually or emotionally. One battle that I have to fight is that I think my locks are incredibly beautiful. I think they make people notice me. I cannot imagine what I will look like without them. And the thought of facing a humid summer without them makes me want to cry.

Peace,
Storm

Smoke Signals

2009-03-26T23:16:00.005-04:00

I would love some feedback.

Smoke Signals

Like Tantalus, I will my limbs to yield
With my bending to drink my fill;
With my stretching to taste your fruit.
Water up to my chest, yet drowning in this desire.

A fleeting glance and my heart swells
With hunger; and your voice whets my appetite;
With desire as your spirit sends smoke signals to mine.
Your vision ingrained, I hunger for your touch.

Like a wildfire, with you for air
Only an ocean would make me yield;
Only a tornado could quiet this flame.
Fully consumed, this body burns for you.

Like tender flint, under your hand
Gentle touches spark rousing flames;
Confident strokes ignite these walls.
You have set this house ablaze.

Barely a spark, here in the dark
My heart led here, a moth to your flame;
Your soul led to me, an ancient spirit quest fulfilled.
These smoke signals forever calling me to you.

kda,2002

2009, so far

2009-03-21T09:09:00.003-04:00

I know I had fallen off the face of the earth for a while. I am not as disciplined as I would like about this blog. So far, I have to say I like 2009. It's not perfect by any stretch, but I like it still.

I am in a good space. I am working on some things that I have wanted to do for myself for a long time. Those things that had to wait until I had raised my daughter. Actually, I have a whole shopping list and I have to figure out what to do first. This is a great spot to be in.

The New Year did bring with it some old insecurities that need to be addressed. I try to tell my loved ones that that's what they are. I miss my granddaughter every day, I tell her so. I worry about my daughter, but I am proud of her and I tell her. I am in love. That is it's own posting; I had given up. What is difficult for me is sometimes I push too hard rather than just accepting people for who they are and being patient. When I am patient, I get the most beautiful gifts. When I am impatient and concentrate on what I need, I only see things as half empty. I am trying to keep this in mind so that I do not keep tripping over it. It is not easy. I have probably talked about this very thing before.

One of the people I just love having in my life--even though she has been M.I.A. lately-- is my best friend. We just 'click'. A little over a year ago, the people I met were just so shabby that it was laughable. I started to wonder what was wrong with me. Then I decided that I would just be by myself for a while. I had actually gotten comfortable with that thought. She knew I was done before I had ever said anything. She knew it and read it on me before I ever spoke it. I appreciate that she understood how frustrated I was and was supportive. It's one thing to not meet 'that someone' but to really not meet people that I was even interested in calling...ugh. I love having a friend that understands not just the surface, but the ripples and the undertow as well. I am grateful for her friendship.

So, a year ago tomorrow, she and I were out at a party and she introduced me to someone she knew. Casual introduction, that I'm her best friend, good people, and love to dance. I knew the first time we danced that I needed to pay attention to this woman. I loved the way her hand warmed my back. I loved how secure I felt. Then, I got nervous while dancing with her. I never get nervous when I meet people. I called her that next morning, Easter Sunday. That conversation was relaxed, easy, and I have been calling back for the past year.

Being in love is good for my health. Her love is incredible. She's relaxed, laid back, and confident. I have never before been nervous about a relationship. I may be excited or over it. In love or not; never nervous. Anxious to get it right. Afraid that my cooking is not good enough, that my house is never clean enough, that I am not enough. That I am not enough. I have never before wanted to be complete in who I am, or more. She makes me want to be my best for her. Not because she is demanding or judgemental or harsh; she's none of that. And, because she is not any of those things, because she's wonderful to talk to, understanding, caring, and incredible, I want to be all of that for her.

I am so grateful that I thank God for blessing me with someone that is unphased by my dark humor, or sarcasm. I suspect that she's tired of where my insecurities take me...but somehow she weathers it. (In my defense, I had been on the wagon since early summer). I can be such an ass. She knows that too, and she's still here.

Yes, so far 2009 is alright.

Peace.

Looking for a rockin babe!

2009-02-24T04:19:00.002-05:00

I grew up listening to all types of music. I love R&B, soul, even country. My grandmother had a thing for Charlie Pride, oh my goodness, you just had to see her. I liked rock. I heard this band called Living Color. I fell in love. It was rock. They were awesome. The guitarist, Vernon Reid is PHENOMENAL, and the lead singer, Corey Glover, well he was just fantastic.

What I loved most was that they rocked harder and better than any band I had ever heard and to top it off, they were black. When I heard their song "Funny Vibe" I knew I would be a fan for as long as they were around.

The only thing that would have been better for me would have been to see a black female guitarist. I longed for that. To see a black woman just rockin' out. Oh my goodness.

The closest I have gotten over the years has been Meshell Ndegeocello. And, wow is she just fantastic. But, I am still looking.

When I was younger, it was one of those things that I felt would signal that we had arrived. The other thing was a black president. I never thought I'd see the latter before the former.

Shows what I know.

Peace.

Weather Forecast

2008-11-12T23:40:00.002-05:00

Weather Forecast for NE Ohio tonight.
Tonight: Occasional rain. Low 46F. Winds SSE at 10 to 20 mph. Chance of rain 70%.

Storm's Forecast
Tonight: Occasional blushing with a 100% chance of happiness. Plentiful clouds for floating.

I love.

She loves.

Pouting

2008-11-08T03:10:00.003-05:00

My best friend is missing in action. I miss her, I miss our friendship. I miss being able to talk without explaining or tempering what I say. I miss not having to measure my words. I miss being able to talk through what is on my mind.

We used to talk about everything. Deep conversations, uncomfortable topics, the down-and-dirty truth about whatever was going on with us.

Well, I need a down-and-dirty conversation right now. I need to be able to talk about what is going on in my head right now. I have having a problem with some old wounds that I am not sure how to handle. I don't want old crap to come back and choke the life out of what I have now; how unfair would that be! To have lived through some ugly mess only to let the fear of it ruin something good. But the other side of that is what if I am seeing a warning sign? What if this is telling me that I should pay attention now or else I will be reliving that ugly mess? How can I tell the difference? How do I know?

Why the hell am I trying to figure this crap out alone? I need to talk this out. This is bull, where is she? Ok, I understand, she needs to take care of herself, but...

Isn't there some sort of code for friends, if they are real friends? Should one just disappear?
Is that cool?

And, ok, here's the part where I explain...I understand what it's like to need to take time for myself. I understand that there are times when things are so overwhelming that you can't take time for yourself. I've been there. So, I am not heartless, maybe a bit selfish, but not heartless.

I will be here for her when she comes around, but how do I get this other crap off my chest without having to do an industrial clean-up? Ugh.

So Very Proud Of My Country

2008-11-05T16:21:00.002-05:00

I have never been so very proud of my country. I have served in the United States Army. I have a love for this country that is true. As a woman, and an African-American, I have seen things differently than many others see them. I have been treated with the back of the hand, that some other Americans don't know exist. We have a long history, but also we are still starry eyed dreamers who believe in the principles upon which the nation were built.

Today, I feel that this beautiful nation of ours has stepped in the direction of putting our money where our mouths are. We have actually shown that we are not just talking the talk.

Today, I feel that our country is brighter with HOPE from sea to shining sea.

Today, I want to see the Statue of Liberty, because in my heart and in my mind, she is standing taller and her torch is burning brighter.

Today, I want to hug everyone who waited in line with me at the polls here in at a middle school in my middle class suburb. I want to hug the woman who didn't want to be late for work, but stayed in line from 6:20 AM until 8:00 AM (which is the time that I left the building).

Today, I want President-elect Barack Obama to know that it's the middle class who heard him and had the AUDACITY to HOPE.

Currently, only North Carolina is not decided. The electoral votes are 349 Obama, 173 McCain.. That is a resounding Yes We Can!

God Bless the United States of America.

I never thought I'd see this day

2008-11-05T02:29:00.002-05:00

Barack Obama has done something I never thought possible.

My heart is full of hope. I am inspired to know that all things really are possible, because Barack Obama has...

shut Jesse Jackson's mouth!

A CHANGE has come, INDEED!

Niagara Falls

2008-09-29T16:13:00.004-04:00

I have had the best summer. I cannot recall a better summer in my adult life. It has been full of ups and downs but mostly, it has been sweet and delicious.

This is a great place to let your hair down and relax.

Just don't forget your passport or birth certificate.

Empty Nest

2008-09-24T03:12:00.004-04:00

I live alone.

For the first time in my adult life, I live alone.

No one to make a mess after I have just cleaned.

No pet to walk or feed or…pet. Just beautiful plants to water (they are bigger now).

If there is a mess in the kitchen, I made it.

No one to eat the last slice of pie (but there's no pie, I'm dieting--sort of). You know what I mean, though.

Yippeeee.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I worry about my daughter and especially about my granddaughter. But, I cannot believe how long a roll of toilet paper lasts. And, the carton of milk froze in the fridge because there hasn’t been anyone standing with the door open for 10 minutes. I don’t have to rush home. I don’t have to buy feminine products, or see any. The list continues.

It is fantastic.

I can get out of bed and not wear a robe…or a gown for that matter.

Oh My Goodness. This is Good Stuff.

For My Lover:

2008-09-23T03:24:00.006-04:00

I have never referred to someone as My Lover. I always thought it cheapened the relationship. It seemed to reduce the intimacy, caring, tenderness, laughter, and delicate knowing to just the physical.

But, I have a new understanding of it now. You have made me see that term “My Lover” as being more than a girlfriend, more than someone with whom I am intimate. Since we are still dating, it’s not easy to find the right chord, the perfect title.

If I base it on how I feel with you, who you are to me, what you mean to me; then, Lover is the perfect title.

A Lover is someone who is patient, giving, tender, and sure. A Lover is in no hurry, there is no race to the finish; the point is the journey—no need to rush. A Lover knows that I need to be fulfilled on different levels. A Lover teases my mind, tantalizes my heart, and still satisfies my body. That is you.

You offer harmony when all I find elsewhere is dissonance. With you, I find peace when all else around me seems a war.

And what can I give? What do I have to offer you?

This body? Yes, time and again, but what then?

This heart that I thought too tarnished until you changed it by simply being yourself? This spirit that is learning to soar again?

Do you want my love?

I have no guarantees, no promises. I can only say that I am true in my desire to get closer to you. There is no sleight of hand, no smoke and mirrors; just a little music, some candlelight and my tender heart holding your tender heart.

I am in no hurry. I am enjoying the journey; have no need to rush. I want to fulfill you on different levels. I want to please your mind, and soul. I want to please your body time and again. I want this relaxed, tender, patient rhythm we have found.

So, to you, Baby, I dedicate Me'Shell NdegeOcello's Love Song #3

my joy happiness
no need for doubt
you ease my fears
you open my heart

i want Love
to come lay
down beside me
i want my Love
to come lay
down beside me
i wanna Kiss
the beautiful
come lay down beside me
i wanna Love
i wanna Love

take me to your garden
beneath rivers flow
take me to your
moon and stars
we can just swing low
come take my hand,
listen to the angels sing
come take my hand,
listen to the angels sing
you make me
feel beautiful

i want Love
to come lay
down beside me
i want my Love
to come lay
down beside me
i want to Kiss
the beautiful
come lay down beside me
i wanna Love

take you to paradise
your Love
take you to paradise
your Love
guides me

take you to paradise
your Love
take you to paradise
your Love
guides me

take you to paradise
take you to paradise
your Love
guides me

take you to paradise
take you to paradise
your Love,
your Love

take you to paradise
take me to paradise

Can you say relaxed?

2008-08-20T19:48:00.003-04:00

I am so very relaxed and happy. I had a fabulous weekend. I got to the Met. Sat in traffic, honking and all. Visited Harlem. Ate too much. Enjoyed fabulous company. Slept well, and fell in love...with New York City.

The Big Apple

2008-08-14T07:44:00.004-04:00

Heading to NYC...I can hardly wait.

The Met, the food, the shopping, the city...the cabbies. I cannot wait.

Isn't the sign in this picture great. "Don't even THINK of parking here." We need that kind of direct, in your face sign here in Cleveland. It's something people would understand.

Mono!!??!!

2008-05-23T04:12:00.003-04:00

Mono?

Mono.

Not strep?

No. It's probably mono. The blood test will be back in a few days. You have to take it easy. I can write you an excuse for work, you need to rest for three or four days.

This was a portion of my conversation with my doctor last week. I got sick on mother's day. Chills, then a fever, and then in the morning a swollen throat. Well, the nurse and I, and later the Dr., were shocked when the rapid strep test came back negative. They tested me twice.

Now, back in February it also came back negative. But then we assumed it was strep and I was treated as such.

For the past 6 months I have been running myself ragged. I have been existing on 2-4 hours of sleep, working full time, and taking care of my granddaughter. I have been exhausted. I thought that I was so run down because I haven't been taking care of myself--not sleeping, not eating properly. I just figured that I needed to catch up on my sleep.

But it was mono.

OK, no big deal. It's a virus. Get your rest and take it easy while your body gets stronger.
But the issue is that I ignored myself.

If my mother, granddaughter, love....anyone around me had been as wiped out as I was, I would have bugged them about going to the Doctor. I would have nagged about an appointment or kept asking to the point of being a headache. But for myself, I blew it off. I blew off the fact that I was just miserable and couldn't seem to shake it.

I never thought of myself as one of those 'superwoman' types. I never thought I would be one of those women who did not sit down, or go to the doctor because I was just too busy. So many women die too early of heart disease, cancer, hypertension, complications from diabetes, etc. because they don't take care of themselves. I don't want to be one of those women.

I won't be one of those women.

Not again.

Ne me quitte pas - Nina Simone

2008-05-23T04:11:00.001-04:00

Nina Simone is one of my absolute favorite singers. Her phrasing, the passion. She was incomparable. Even Jacque Brel's own version is not as incredible as hers.

This is roughly a translation of the lyrics, in all the years I have listened to this song this is the first time that I have bothered to look at the words. Just listen to her voice.

Don't leave me.

We must forget, all that can be forgotten. It is already gone. Forget the times, the misunderstandings, and the time wasted, trying to understand how. Forget those hours, that sometimes kill, the reasons why, the heart of joy.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Me, I'll offer to you, pearls of rain, from a country, where it doesn't rain. I will mine the earth, until after my death, to cover your body, with gold and light. I will make a land, where love will be king, where love will be law, where you will be queen.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Don't leave me. I will make for you, foolish words, that you will understand. I will speak to you, of these lovers, who twice saw, their hearts blaze up. I will tell to you the history of a king, who died without, without meeting you.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

It is often seen, fire flashes anew, from an ancient volcano, that one believed too old. When all is done, the burned grounds, gives more corn, better than an April sun. And when the evening comes, so that the sky is aflame, with red and black, are they not married together.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Don't leave me. I will cry no more, I will speak no more, I will hide myself there. And look at you, dance and smile. And listen to you, sing and then laugh. Let me become to you, a shadow of your shadow, a shadow of your hand, a shadow of your dog.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Pat Parker

2008-05-22T06:00:00.000-04:00

Pat Parker (USA) Poet
Sunrise: January 20, 1944
Sunset: June 1989

“If I could take all my parts with me when I go
somewhere, and not have to say to one of them, ‘No, you stay home tonight, you won't be welcome,’ because I'm going to an all-white party where I can be gay, but not Black. Or I'm going to a Black poetry reading, and half the poets are anti-homosexual, or thousands of situations where something of what I am cannot come with me. The day all the different parts of me can come along, we would have what I would call a revolution”

I used to think that there was never going to be a place and time when ALL of my parts would be welcome anywhere. Actually, I still think it, but now it doesn't matter. I take all of me almost everywhere. I realized very early on that I was not who/what people expected. The setting did not matter; I was a misfit. My style, appetite, sexuality, music, everything was just wrong. It seems that there was always something suspect about me.

I say was not because anything has changed but because it no longer matters. I know that I have to honor all that I am. I have to 'tend that inward fire' (to quote Van Gogh). It is ok that others scratch their heads or do a double take, I can embrace myself. I celebrate those seemingly opposing sides of me.

That word 'queer'

2008-04-30T02:11:00.005-04:00

queer /kwɪər/ SpelledPronunciation[kweer] adjective, -er, -est,
verb, noun
–adjective
1. strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually
different;singular: a queer notion of justice.
2. of a questionable nature or character; suspicious; shady: Something queer about the language of the prospectus kept investors away.
3. not feeling physically right or well; giddy, faint, or qualmish: to feel
queer.
4. mentally unbalanced or deranged.
5. Slang: Disparaging and Offensive.
a. homosexual.
b. effeminate; unmanly.
6. Slang. bad, worthless, or counterfeit.
–verb (used with object)
7. to spoil; ruin.
8. to put (a person) in a hopeless or disadvantageous situation as to
success, favor, etc.
9. to jeopardize.
–noun
10. Slang: Disparaging and Offensive. a homosexual, esp. a
male homosexual.
11. Slang. counterfeit money.
—Idiom
12. queer the pitch, British Informal. to spoil the chances of success.
[Origin: 1500–10;perh. <>
—Synonyms 1. unconventional, curious, freakish, eccentric, weird. See strange.
—Antonyms 1. ordinary.
Dictionary.comUnabridged (v 1.1)Based on the Random House Unabridged
Dictionary, © RandomHouse, Inc. 2006.
OK, I have a problem with this word. I don't know why, really. It sounds kinda cute when you say it, but I don't like being called queer.
Lesbian? Thank you.
Dyke? Umm, ok.
Bulldagger? I don't like this one either and it makes me laugh directed at me, but it's not a word I use towards others ever.
Woman who loves womyn or womyn-centered? Ok, but why dance around.
Queer? No, I am not counterfeit. I don't think my sexuality makes me of questionable character. Although my viewpoint is unconventional, I think most of ours are. I am not ruined, hopeless, or in jeopardy. And, though there are some who question my sanity, I am far from being deranged.
I just don't like the word. It's the whole connotation of the word. It says to me, there's something not quite right there. And while I know that a lot of people outside of the community would agree with this characterization, I won't define myself by them.
I also don't like to refer to dominant/aggressive/tomboy or tomboi/butch womyn as studs. It doesn't sit well with me, but I do respect the label others give themselves.
It's one of those words that have been used against the community. So, to lessen the sting people figure they could adopt it and make it ok. I can't get there.
Just my opinion.

just a few fine womyn...

2008-04-29T05:27:00.015-04:00

Sharon Bridgforth,

Skyler Cooper

Toshi Reagon

Pippa Fleming,

D'lo,

Mercy, mercy me.

There is something to be said for butch womyn...

there is a Sexy Dark Chocolate womyn missing--I don't have her pic.

Mercy.

Fleeting thought

2008-04-26T04:27:00.004-04:00

So many want to move to warmer, sunnier climates,

but if you really knew what rainy days do to me,

we'd be somewhere in the Pacific Northwest...

and you would be singing in the rain.

I love butch women

2008-04-05T12:47:00.006-04:00

OK, what in the world is it that you all do? How do you do it?

The walk. Head high, shoulders back. Erect...so to speak. Almost a swagger, but umm, so smooth.

Those hands. Handy, strong, sure...damn.

The shoes. OK, I have to sit down. A beautiful pair of square toed shoes or crisp white sneakers.

The cologne. Just enough to make me have to lean in a little more. Heaven help me.

It is amazing.

Hair that is short, or not. Creased jeans, or maybe not.
A handkerchief-- Yes, I said a handkerchief...makes me blush.
Chapstick, lickable.

I just love butch women. You all are amazing.

Thank you.

Renewed, almost.

2008-04-03T03:54:00.009-04:00

The past few months have probably been the most trying time in my life.

Everything spiralled out of control and I found myself standing by myself. I felt so small and worthless. I felt so completely alone. There was no one to be found, but I had tons of strings attached to me. There were strings leading to small things: the cat, the lawn, the vacuum cleaner, a broken window...just stuff.

Then there was this one huge rope, that could be used to anchor a ship. Now this rope began with my daughter, except she was nowhere to be found. This rope had so many things attached to it that I thought I would suffocate with all of the knots and just the sheer volume of it. I heard a noise, I had missed something and had to find what it was. As I got closer, I heard crying, it was my granddaughter. I picked her up, fed her, put her on my back and continued on.

I found one rope that had nothing attached to the end; that one was left behind by the lover who promised love, but tried to break my spirit because she did not understand how I could love and not ask for something in return.

During this unraveling I got tired, lost sleep, went through a period of denial, went through a period of anger. I wanted to cry but was just too damned tired.

I kept finding so many ropes with nothing and no one on the ends. My sister, aunt...gone. Wow, did I do something?

At one point one of the ropes pulled me, it was my best friend. She tried to help navigate, but there was only enough room for me, so she offered encouragement, advice and support. I thanked God for her, then I put her in my pocket for safe keeping.

Now, I have piles of things to get to and organize but I have gotten some things accomplished. I am still exhausted but I feel better.

Finally I had a revelation that although it is not clean, simple, or neat...I am able to look around and see exactly who and what I can rely upon.

At first I was crushed. What did I do? Why is everyone mad at me? What happened? But the more I cleared things away and looked at things I saw that it wasn't me. I was just the one left standing after the mess was left behind.

It has taken so long to get my head up. It has taken months for me to realize that stuff happens to people and it does not define who they are. What matters is what I do with it, and how I handle it. What matters is how I 'wear' it.

It took me a minute to get back to the point where I can sit across a table and look someone in their eyes and know that I am flawed but not devalued. I am worthy. I am no less a good woman. I am no less funny, articulate, creative, sexy, honest...I was no less anything. I am not defined by my circumstances. I am worth knowing. I am worth the time it takes to stop and take a closer look.

My neighbor has these flowers in his yard every year. Nasturtium, the flower is usually under the big flat leaves. The flower tastes peppery, like a radish. He explained this 3 years ago when I moved in, but I don't like radishes so I kept moving through their paradise. Last year I finally pulled one of the flowers off and ate it. It was delicious, better tasting than a radish and very appealing on a salad.

I am like that flower. I am not the prettiest, but by far the tastiest surprise for someone willing to take the time.

This is not a bad place to be.

I will blame it on spring

2008-04-01T02:25:00.008-04:00

Ok, I will blame this post on Spring. Northeast Ohio winters can leave me quite desperate for sunshine and fresh air. Yesterday was the first real kiss of spring. I was out without a coat.

I am positively giddy. Who knows for how long, and I dare not question why. This is so much better than...not being giddy.

So, I was playing with my poetry magnets tonight. I let my eyes fall on random words. (You know the mind is a very dark place sometimes.) This is the unedited copy of what I saw:

Make me...

chant.

scream.

shake.

frantic.

delirious.

water.

consumed.

pant.

gorgeous.

cook.

tell.

easy.

fast.

rain*.

yours.

See, I really should edit myself 99.5% of the time. Though at 2:50 AM I am far less likely to do so.

Since this was what I came up with first the rest of the words seemed worth exploring...but, the further I went through them and the more I wrote...let's just say I don't want to start any fires.

Beautiful Lake Erie

2008-03-29T04:00:00.003-04:00

My Sweetest

2007-10-20T03:01:00.002-04:00

How could I not smile?

Loneliness

2007-10-12T00:14:00.000-04:00

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

Hello.

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.

Customer Service?

2007-07-27T07:50:00.000-04:00

Greetings!

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.

Peace

Simple Delights

2007-07-25T00:14:00.001-04:00

This is my favorite part of Cuyahoga Valley National Park

2007-06-24T16:50:00.000-04:00

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.

Refueling

2007-06-08T06:41:00.001-04:00

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.

Relationships

2007-05-27T23:23:00.000-04:00

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.

what a day

2007-05-25T23:05:00.000-04:00

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.

Where I am right this moment...

2007-05-21T15:52:00.001-04:00

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.

Tend That Inward Fire

2007-05-16T01:16:00.000-04:00

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.

Peace

Ache

2007-04-24T00:45:00.000-04:00

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.

Peace
storm.

Ache

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.

102 Things.

2007-04-21T22:49:00.000-04:00

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.

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

2007-04-17T01:03:00.000-04:00

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.

..nappy headed hoes...

2007-04-11T23:53:00.000-04:00

Just who is the nappy headed hoe?

It speaks for itself.

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

Happy Belated Easter

2007-04-10T00:09:00.000-04:00

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.

Peace.

Dark Desires

2007-03-30T03:46:00.001-04:00

I have dark desires.

Yearnings.

Urges.

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.

(wink)

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

2007-03-27T02:40:00.000-04:00

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...

...as 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.

peace

XVII (I do not love you...)

2007-03-24T05:20:00.001-04:00

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
soul.

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
fragrance,
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

peace.

Toughest Week

2007-03-15T01:43:00.000-04:00

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.

peace

Donate for Free

2007-03-10T01:54:00.000-05:00

http://www.tampontification.com/donate.php

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.

peace.

Can Somebody PLEASE....

2007-03-05T00:12:00.000-05:00

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 Coulter...um, 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.

Peace.

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.

What is romantic?

2007-02-28T01:51:00.001-05:00

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.

Boring?

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?

A to Z Me

2007-02-21T02:55:00.001-05:00

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

ACCENT: Mid-western.
BIBLE BOOK THAT I LIKE: Psalms.
CHORE I DON'T CARE FOR: litter box
DOG OR CAT: cat
ESSENTIAL ELECTRONICS: Laptop, mp3 player, satellite radio (all equally important)
FAVORITE COLOGNE: patchouli, Victoria secrets dream angels heavenly
GOLD OR SILVER: Silver
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
MOST ADMIRABLE TRAIT: honesty
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?
VEGETABLE I REFUSE TO EAT: beets and okra
WORST TRAIT: procrastinating, moody
X-RAYS: clear and clean. not one broken bone
YUMMY STUFF I COOK: meatloaf, pecan pie, pumpkin roll, biscuits.
ZOO ANIMAL I LIKE MOST: giraffes

$&@ WINTER! $&@ BLIZZARDS!

2007-02-15T01:10:00.000-05:00

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.

$&*@ WINDCHILL!

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

Ugh! And sometimes we even get snow in April.

WOO-HOO

2007-02-12T08:12:00.000-05:00

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?)

YAHOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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.

Peace.

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

2007-01-28T07:22:00.000-05:00

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.

peace.

Serena is BACK!

2007-01-27T05:02:00.000-05:00

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.

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.

Trying to Motivate Myself

2007-01-26T03:22:00.000-05:00

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.

peace

What people don't understand about terror

2007-01-24T05:00:00.000-05:00

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.

Peace.

People are Strange

2007-01-04T21:35:00.000-05:00

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?

Seriously?

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

peace

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...

2007-01-04T17:28:00.000-05:00

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.

peace.

untitled

2006-12-30T17:17:00.000-05:00

I don't know what to title this posting because I really don't know, right now, where I am going with it.

For Thanksgiving, my mother cooked most of the food and brought it to my house for dinner. The deal was I was to cook for Christmas. So, I called mom, verified that she was still coming and set of to purchase and cook.

I cooked food for about 8 people, even though I knew there would only be 4 of us eating dinner (holiday meals are no fun without leftovers). I had to be at work at 6 AM Christmas morning, so I cooked a little 2 days before, then most everything else on Christmas Eve. Whatever I did not cook, my daughter finished on Christmas while I was at work.

I called my mom's cell phone at 4:30 PM on my way home from work, got her voice mail and left her a message. "Hi Mommy! Merry Christmas! The food should be ready, I am about 5 minutes away from home so I hope you're on your way. OK, see you in a few minutes, I love you. Bye."

My mother NEVER called me back.

Not only did she not call me back, she did not come over for Christmas dinner.

She did not call the day after Christmas either.

My mother called my house on Wednesday, two days after the holiday and said:

"Hey. How long have you been up?"

"Well, all day."

"Oh, well, I'm gonna come by and drop some stuff off. I will see you later."

When she arrives, she offers no apology (which at 38 years old, I know better than to expect) and no explanation. I still have not even heard the words 'Merry Christmas' from my mother.

She is all grins like nothing happened.

So she puts gifts down.

I give her the gifts that have been under the tree for the past 2 days. I finally manage to calmly say, "We missed you on Christmas."

She says " Oh, I went with Sister to one of her co-worker's. He has a nice house. We had prime rib and duck with orange sauce. But, I didn't try the duck. It was really nice."

I am standing in my living room in front of my mother and daughter and I want to tell her to get out of my house. I want to know what the fuck is wrong with her and I want to ask her why she could not have told me that she really had no intention of coming to my house for dinner.

What did I do to her that spending Christmas with strangers was so appealing?

What the FUCK is that about?

I felt embarrassed. I look stupid looking for my mother to arrive at my home for dinner and she doesn't show up.

No, this is not about how it looked.

It is about how I felt.

For quite some time now I have felt that my mother has no use for me. I mean, yes, she's proud of me and loves me. She knows if something happened I'd be there for her. She knows she can trust me to do any financial transactions and would give her my last. My only purpose for my mother is to be there for her in case she gets sick.

But, she has no real use for me. She could take me or leave me.

Actually, to be perfectly honest with myself, she could leave me.

And has.

I mean, how low on her list could I be if I did not even deserve a phone call.

And, yeah, I know....WAHHH! Right? I am crying like a little baby, but FUCK!

I am talking about my mother.

I am angry.

I think I am fair to be angry.

But it becomes unhealthy because I am angry with myself. How many times will I allow my mother to just do whatever to me and I accept it?

How long am I supposed to remain open to her?

How am I supposed to trust my feelings to her?

How do you only close the gate halfway?

I am kind of an all-or-nothing kind of woman. You're either in or your out. I trust you or I don't.

But with my mother, I love her, but I don't trust her.

I wanted to push the issue and tell her that she hurt our feelings by blowing us off for Christmas, and I did not. I knew that it would just lead to an argument.

But, what did I really avoid? I mean, I am angry with her anyway. I don't want to see her or talk to her. I am just LIVID.

She never apologizes. I have never gotten a straight apology from my mother. Her apologies are always Pyrrhic victories--you win but it costs much more than you would ever gain. What would be the point in that?

I feel like I did as a child, just so frustrated by her and like I belonged to another mother. I just had to belong to someone who had real feelings and empathy.

OK, maybe the name of this posting could be childhood. or depression. or anger. I recall now my first depression. Winter 76/77, we had a tragedy in the family, my uncle died in an apartment fire. We all lived in the same building. We came home from shopping for a Christmas tree to find our building fully involved and no one could get to Uncle Lawrence's apartment. That winter and spring I was withdrawn and sullen.

I was clinically depressed at 8 years old.

When I tried to talk to my dad, my mother would shush me, because he was grieving his brother.

When I tried to talk to her, she would not hear me or I would not be able to find the words.

I felt so very alone. I wondered why no one wanted to know about me. I wondered what was wrong with me.

Some days, like Christmas evening, I wonder, what the fuck is wrong with me that my own mother would rather be anywhere but here?

This has offered some clarity. Maybe there is more to my Seasonal Affective crap than just daylight and chemicals? Maybe I need to figure out how to leave the gate partially closed. Maybe there are reasons for my insecurities and feeling less than.

I won't go all Freudian and blame everything on my mother, but hell, I can see that there are some issues that I used to pass over as 'how she is' or even worse 'i just get a little sad', but there is more to it and I deserve to be honest with myself and see the whole picture.

Whatever it holds I am finally ready to see it all.

And by all means, if my viewpoint is askew(or in any other way: all off*, all wet*, all wrong, amiss, awry, defective, fallacious, false, faulty, flawed, inaccurate, incorrect, inexact, invalid, misguided, mistaken, off, specious, spurious, unfounded, unsound, untrue, way off, wrong number ), please tell me.

I was wished courage for Christmas, I think I could use it already.

peace.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-25T10:32:00.000-05:00

I hope I am the only one at work this beautiful Christmas morning.

Here in Cleveland, it rained yesterday! Not a freezing rain either. I have had a peaceful day.
I am thankful for the blessings I have and for those to come.

Have an incredible day.

Merry Christmas!

...ok, the truth is I don't care for this season

2006-12-11T10:29:00.000-05:00

Truth be told, I cringe when it comes to Christmas.

Hold on! Don't rush to judgement.

I love Christmas. The decorations, food, spending time with family, contemplating what is important and meaningful, and honestly being thankful for Jesus' birth. I love it.

But, I hate shopping and just dealing with people in general. People can be so mean this time of year.

Really, people will push you down and walk on you to get to an Elmo who will laugh!

People are in such a hurry to spend money that they don't recall the reason for the celebrating.

Yes, I guess that is corny. I really love the spirit of the season.

My favorite Christmas carol as a child was The Little Drummer Boy. Still is.

Simple and beautiful. The finest gift we give is of the heart.

Don't get me wrong ,I don't live in a bubble. I am a gadget geek, on a new homeowners budget. I have my own Christmas wish list. I will go and stand in line for those things that my beloveds desire.

But, Christmas shopping leaves me cold.

I understand why we all do it. We love our families and this is that time of year when we say to one another 'Hey, you are loved and deserving just because you are'.

We focus in on getting them the best. That perfect gift.

I understand.

But shopping makes me cringe. Mean people make me sad. Rude people make me very angry!

oh, well, I guess I will just have to make sure to put on my favorite Christmas CD and keep a song in my heart while I try to find that obscure movie or stand in line for the game console that everybody wants but there are only 100 being sold in the country.

Skidded, but No Tailspin

2006-12-04T10:01:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, December 3rd would have been my father's 66th Birthday. (It is a birthday he shared with his first granddaughter, my oldest niece, Timika.)

He passed on Wednesday, (Ash Wednesday) March 8th, 2000, but I lost him a few years before that.

I was always, unabashedly, a Daddy's Girl.

There was nothing better than having Daddy's undivided attention.

When I was growing up, we would talk about anything.

A few of the things that I love that are directly linked to him are:
my sense of humor, my sarcasm, golf, football, tennis, Lorna Doone's (shortbread cookies), jazz (the classics; Miles Davis, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald), art, the joy of walking around your home with a song in your heart, dancing, and beautiful lines on a well made auto...

I thought we talked about everything. In my mind, there was only one other person in the world who would accept me without question, and with open arms, my Mama (Mom's mom).

I learned to question everything from my father. There was no such thing as a dumb question or anything out of bounds.

I watched what he did and what he said.

I thought I knew him.

Coming out was difficult for me. I knew I was attracted to girls in grade school. I thought one of my best friends, Karen, was beautiful, and I had the BIGGEST crush on Wonder Woman.

Yeah, really, Wonder Woman. (blushing)

My Big Mama(Dad's Mom) was a "dyke, bulldagger, you know, funny" and two of his brothers were gay. He loved them all unconditionally.

I thought my mother would have a problem with my sexuality. I thought my mother would reject me. I mean I learned all those alternate words for lesbian from overheard conversations on my mom's side of the family.

(I never heard the word 'lesbian', until Jon Lovitz, doing a skit on Saturday Night Live, rhymed it with thespian)

It took forever for me to come to the point where I just could not try to be who I thought others wanted me to be.

Actually, it took a major depression.

My mom had a problem initially, but eventually it was not an issue.

My dad had a big problem and everytime he saw me, made a point of letting me know it.

EVERYTIME.

So, I started avoiding him because we argued all the time.

When he became ill, sick with cancer, he still did not let up.

The day he passed, I was at home painting. I had been in my art room for 2 days, working on a sketch and rough draft. I was listening to Cassandra Wilsons' Traveling Miles.

My mother called to tell me he had passed.

I broke.

I am still mending.

Usually, I am on guard beginning December 1st because I know that his birthday sends me into a tailspin. I feel worthless and useless. I feel like I am of no use to anyone I love. I cry without understanding why.

Last year I was able to celebrate him.

This year it caught me unawares.

On the evening of the 2nd, my daughter began talking about Mama (mom's mother) and the time just before her passing (which happened to be 1 year and 1 week after my father's). The tears blindsided me. I thought it was all about Mama, and pushed it away.

That evening, I felt that I could not do anything right for Myra, felt useless to her. I cried. I could not explain why; I did not know why. (Imagine her confusion.)

Every year I call my sister on Daddy's birthday. Later, I called my niece. She was down, said she doesn't want to celebrate it without him. I told her to celebrate. She was listening half-heartedly to half-hearted words.

The truth is I don't know how to comfort her. There was little anyone vould do to comfort me. I thought of him as soon as I woke up yesterday and then I wondered how Timika would get through the day.

Maybe next year will be better.

Happy Birthday Daddy.

Peace.

It's all about me.

2006-11-25T15:24:00.000-05:00

I borrowed this from Mad Hatter,

1. Start Time: 3:45 pm
2. Name: Stormie...
3 Astrology sign: Scorpio
4. Gender: Female
5. Hair color: Dark brown
6. Eye color: Brown
7. Your mood: very good.
8. Favorite color(s): Yellow, blue
9. Glasses : Yes. I need them every day now
10. Tattoos: Not yet, but soon!
11. Best part of your life: I have peace of mind at home
12. Hometown: Cleveland OH
13. Single or taken: taken
14..Sibling's name: Katrina

HAVE YOU EVER .....
15. Cut your own hair? I am sure I did as a child, but not a chance now.
16. Did you do something in the past month that you regret? Yes, I hurt someone.
17. Fell in love at first sight? No
18. Skipped school? no
19. Smoked?: yes
20. Bungee jumped?: No
21. Had any kids?: YES
22. Punched someone? Yes, I am ashamed to say.
23. Cheated on a test? Yes, in high school. History ugh. it's why i know nothing now.
24. Been arrested? No!
25. Broken into someone's house? Never
26. Been fired? NO comment
27. Been acussed of something that was not your fault? yes.
28. Been rejected? by a lover, by family, you name it.
29. Been to a funeral? Of course
30. Used a lighter?duh, yah!
31. Been on stage? yes

FAVORITE ......
32. Season: Autumn - I love to feel the leaves crunching under my feet
33. Food: thanksgiving dinner
34. Ice cream flavor: coffee, vanilla bean
35. Fruit: mango, peaches
36. Candy/chocolate: dark chocolate kisses since i got a bag full on my b-day
37. Breakfast: french toast or an omelet
38. Person: my Jada Rose
39. Book: there are so many. Zami! A new spelling of my name by Audre Lorde, all of Audre Lorde's poetry,and anything by Zora Neale Hurston, J. California Cooper, Yusef Komunyakaa (poet), and Alice Walker. That's just off the top of my head.
40. Weather: Sunny, warm or crisp fall days
41. Song: Ravel's Bolero and Not Like Crazy by Jill Scott
42. River: No favourite, all water flowing is beautiful and peaceful to me
43 State/City: sanfran california
44. Place: at the lake sitting in the sun, in bed, anywhere I can be at peace
45. Sport to watch on TV : football, golf, tennis, gymnastics
46. Spot to be kissed: On my neck from behind
47. Computer site: blogspot, overstock
48. Movie: the color purple, it's a wonderful life, wizard of oz
49. Disney movie: good question...the lion king
50. Disney princess: i'm still waiting for one that resembles my beautiful Jada
51. Place(s) to eat out: Winking Lizard, Waterstreet, Diana's
52. Name(s) for a son: Miles, Malcolm, Christopher, William
53. Name(s) for a daughter: Jessica, Charlotte, Zoe

DO YOU PREFER .......
54. Chocolate or vanilla ice-cream? Vanilla, more specifically vanilla bean
55. Alcoholic or non? depends on the moment and whether i'm at work.
56. Long relationships or one-night stands? Long relationships
57. Dogs or cats? i like both but have a soft spot for cats...
58. Scary movies or comedies? Comedies
59. TV or the computer? Computer
60. Croutons or bacon bits? Croutons
61. Books or magazines? both

FIRST THINGS THAT COME TO MIND.......
62. Mexicans: Anasazi and beautiful history of Teotihuacan
63. School: let me out!
64. Car: porche
65. Cows: steak
66. Canadians: molson's ice
67. Mouse: kill it
68. Hand: lover (Freudian huh...)

THE PAST 3 DAYS, HAVE YOU........
69. Talked on the phone? everyday
70. Watched a movie? yes on thanksgiving
72. Smoked? yes
73. Drank a glass of water? yes
74. Used drugs? does ibuprofen count
75. Read a book or magazine? yes
76. Watched TV? Yep
77. Looked in the mirror? Yeah
78. Taken a shower? yes
79. Taken a picture? no
80. Listened to music? of course
81.Told someone you love them? absolutely
82.Time: 04.29pm

Michael Richards apologizes for racist tirade

2006-11-21T20:46:00.000-05:00

I watched Michael Richards as if viewing a very bad, old movie. It's shocking that he felt justified and funny, in a twisted sense, to watch him completely reveal himself.

He must have been sipping on some Mel Gibson juice before the show?

What could be worse than his tirade?

Surely you all heard his tired apology. Actually, Tyler Perry's Madea would call it an 'apololie', he doesn't mean it. He is apologizing because he got caught.

He could hear Letterman's audience laughing, but I would be willing to bet he still cannot understand why. This comedic actor, whose career was solidified by understanding the power of timing and the meaning of a well worded phrase, does not have a clue.

See, there was the awkward way 'Afro-Americans' crashed through his tissue-thin apology. If he knows about Johari's Window, someone could explain to him that this is one of those things that others know, but he doesn't.

How long has it been since we were 'Afro-Americans'? Is it just me, or does that smack of someone not accustomed to saying anything more polite than 'blacks'?

There is no way to explain away that sort of tirade. That was not a matter of losing one's temper, it wasn't just a rage. That was hate. That was his heart speaking it's truth.

Comedians deal with hecklers as often as they take the stage. There are ways to handle hecklers. He could have stood there and talked about the guy, his mother, or anything.

What he chose to do was talk about lynching, call him nigger several times, and among other things justified his rage by saying 'that's what happens when you interrupt a white man'.

See, I never knew that.

That is the world according to Michael Richards.

Incredible.

Poor Jerry Seinfeld. Talk about timing. Just as he's promoting the release Seinfeld's season 7, this happens. And, to make it worse, that apology was like something out of the Murphy's Law rule book.

What could Jerry do?

His hands are tied!

No matter how much he wanted to, he could never come out and say "Hey, he's an asshole, and needs to get himself together!"

Season 7, HELLO!!! Time to make more money! You've got to go the apology route. But it seems to me that of the whole cast, Michael is the one most counting on those sales.

Oops.

If this doesn't work, wait for the rehab spin. That is a last ditch effort.

Peace.

Happy Belated Birthday to ME!

2006-11-21T01:46:00.000-05:00

I love birthdays...especially my own.

I especially love that my birthday is closely followed by Thanksgiving.

My mom and I are cooking...she's doing the bulk of the cooking this year.

This is the only gift I am gonna ask for...count your blessings, and when you think you are done, count them again.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Stormie, Happy birthday to ME...and many more!

and, a very special wink to my new love, who made it an absolutely glorious weekend.

Synchronicity

2006-11-14T05:29:00.000-05:00

There are times when I have terrible perceptions of myself. I will doubt even the most basic things. I have said this before, but I can cook a meal regularly, but every once in a while will question that I know how to properly feed anyone.

The universe has been moving for me in profound ways; in ways that I cannot say I believed I deserved. I have been attending church for the past month. Nearly every week, I get a message about my artwork. I have only mentioned the messages to two or three people. This past Sunday, as I was getting ready, my daughter told me I should start painting again.

"I miss your artwork" she said.

I nearly cried. I was beyond touched. I understood in that moment that what I had said with my art mattered, and not just to me.

For six (6) years my creativity was silent. I did not write. I did not paint. I felt that I had nothing to say. Nothing that mattered.

This morning, one of my co-workers said that I have fire and passion in my eyes when I talk about my art, and I put that same fire and passion in everything I do. I did not think that this man paid any attention to me other than the occasional conversation. I was blown away. I felt a little more comfortable about sharing it even more.

There is no such thing as chance. There is sychronicity. I went back to church because I needed a few things:a new love with whom I could be safe, secure, and open, to get in touch with my creative voice, and to feel safe in sharing that voice. There is power and grace in prayer. There is power in naming what you want from the universe. There are no accidents. I am being answered in abundance.

I am humbled and I am blessed.

peace.

My homosexual agenda

2006-11-09T13:55:00.000-05:00

I was replying to Musing the Mystery and realized as I was responding to her, I do have a Homosexual Agenda.

"Oh, by the way, I really do have a very clear cut Homosexual Agenda; be healthy, happy, love fiercely, and live with dignity.

I bet if that were pushed forward, the 'right' would find something sinister in it.

it's almost funny"

So many times these simple rights have been won over and over, but always after a fight. Always after a struggle. I intend to live with purpose and dignity, to be healthy and happy, and most importantly loving.

I intend to be all that I can be.

peace,
Storm

What color heart do you have?

2006-10-28T02:22:00.001-04:00

Your Heart Is Red

You're a passionate lover - you always have a huge fire in your heart.
Too bad it's hard for you to be passionate about just one person!

Your flirting style: Outgoing and sexy

Your lucky first date: Drinks and dancing

Your dream lover: Is both stable and intense

What you bring to relationships: Honesty

What Color Heart Do You Have?

Welcome to My Strip Tease or 4 A.M. Ramblings about Honesty

2006-10-26T02:07:00.000-04:00

I came across a writing exercise which suggested introducing yourself to a stranger, in writing. You have a rare disease which prohibits you from being dishonest--tell the stranger who you are.

I looked at the words and thought about this exercise. I put the book down, and thought about the exercise some more. I 'slept' on it, then forgot about it. Actually, I did not forget it, I tried to forget it. I wanted to forget. This shit has been bothering me.

I am so very brutal with myself that just thinking of bearing it all for a stranger hurts. The thought of writing out all that I am, and all that I am not, for a stranger seemed terrifying.

I must lay bare all of my stuff. Which includes that which I work hard to make certain that hardly anyone ever sees, or knows. Who the hell wants to do that? Why in the hell would anyone want to do that?

Then, a revelation; I already do this. In this blog, I give a brutally honest, if fractured, self-portrait. I lay myself open to the world, and why? Initially it was loneliness and the need to write, communicate. To be honest, I needed to communicate with myself. After being blocked for over 6 years, it did not matter that anyone else could see it. It only mattered that I spoke my own truths. I needed a release. Writing this blog is my release.

I realize that I label, categorize, define myself more and more with each entry.

It may sound crazy. It may not be enough for someone to actually stick around to read, and I am ok with that. But, on the rare occasions that someone wanders onto this page and reads something by a stranger that they can relate to, then I have accomplished what I set out to do. It would be cool to be able to have coffee across a table, but I will take what I can get for now.

Most days it is enough to be able to put it down and hit the publish button when I am done.

So, strangers, welcome to my exercise. It is an on-going, work.

If I were to compare it to a strip tease then I would have to say each posting is another scintillating article, but really, no one would wait for a stripper to get through so many layers.

Last night I dreamed I decolonized my thighs, would be considered a 'wardrobe malfunction'.

I do own a pair of nipple shields.

How's that for revealing?

What is your personality cluster?

2006-10-26T02:04:00.000-04:00

Your Personality Cluster is Extraverted Intuition

You are:

A true wordsmith - a master of words
Original, spontaneous, and a true inspiration
Highly energetic, up for any challenge
Entertaining and engaging, both to friends and strangers

href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourpersonalityclusterquiz/">What's Your Personality Cluster?

i am not a pretty girl

2006-10-20T05:31:00.000-04:00

There are some things that really matter to me.
It is important that I am honest, and trust-worthy. I try to be kind. My relationship with God is important. I cherish my role as a mother. I value my independence, tenacity, and fierce loyalty. I love that I am direct. I even love my sarcasm.

I have never had much respect or use for those women who think of themselves as helpless. It is difficult for me to understand...actually I do not understand it. I am offended when I am treated like some poor, dumb female.

My maternal great-grandmother was Blackfoot. Her daughter, my grandmother, fished, gardened, had a green thumb, cooked, and raised five productive and relatively well adjusted children. My father's mother was an incredible, entrepreneurial, knife wielding, no bull-shit taking, beautiful womyn. I come from HEARTY stock.

I do not fold easily. I do not crumble under small pressures. I am not faint of heart. I own my body. It is mine and I say what is done with and/or to it.

I am smart, witty, curious, and articulate. I may even be attractive, but it is not as important as the rest. I don't want to be the pretty one. I do not want to be catered to, pacified, placed on a pedestal and treated as if I would break. Often, no one else care to help me up if I fell. Who could afford to fall apart? Certainly, I could not.

I used to resent the pretty girls; the women who were sought after. I used to wish I were one of them. Now when I offer prayers of Thanksgiving, of which I have many, I thank God that I could not rely on being less than I am today. I thank God that more was required of me. I thank God that I was challenged and rose to the occasion.

I thank God that I am not a pretty girl.

So, here are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite womyn:

not a pretty girl by Ani DiFranco

i am not a pretty girl
that is not what i do
i ain't no damsel in distress
and i don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

i am not an angry girl
but it seems like i've got everyone fooled
every time i say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling

and i am sorry
i am not a maiden fair
and i am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

and generally my generation
wouldn't be caught dead working for the man
and generally i agree with them
trouble is you gotta have yourself an alternate plan
and i have earned my disillusionment
i have been working all of my life
and i am a patriot
i have been fighting the good fight
and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if i knew that and i called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up

i am not a pretty girl
i don't want to be a pretty girl
no i want to be more than a pretty girl

one liners...a few of my favorite lyrics

2006-10-20T02:21:00.000-04:00

I'm your sedative. Take a piece of me whenever you can.
Don't Cry....Seal

Whatever displeases your palate, my kisses will wash away.
Mary Magdalene....Me'Shell Ndege'Ocello

I can hardly breath for the trembling in my thighs
You Move Me.....Cassandra Wilson

WTF, or Why your opinion about my hair matters

2006-10-15T00:09:00.001-04:00

It is 2006. October of 2006. Why is a black woman's hair still such an issue?

I carry dreads. My locks are pretty long; they come to the middle of my back. Since they are long now, people compliment them. People stop me to tell me how beautiful they are. They make a point to tell me that MINE look nice and clean.
It is 2006.

I started my locks in 2000. I cut my shoulder length chemically 'relaxed' hair off and started my locks with about 2 inches of hair, which looks like an inch once twisted.

People looked at me like I was crazy. I expected some people to stare, but the worse group, by far, was black women. At first the reaction hurt me.

Sistahs looked at me like I was trying to cut their hair off. They reacted as if I was trying to take away their relaxers and make them go nappy. Brothers tripped too, but most brothers trip when they see a woman with short nappy hair. I could not believe it. THIS IS MY HEAD.

THIS IS MY HAIR.

WTF?

Not that it mattered anyway. I was ready for my locks. I was happy. I did not lock my hair to please anybody but ME.

So now, when I am shopping or walking, and someone stops me to tell me that they approve of my locks I really want to ask them if they hold an opinion on what the president is doing.

I want to know if they talk to their children about things going on in the world.

I want to know if they read.

I want to know what makes them think that I give a care what they think about MY HAIR.

I don't care!

I mean, OK, Thank You for the compliment.

But, I want SOMEBODY to walk up to me and ask me why politicians think black folk are a herd of homogeneous, brainless cattle.

Or, why is it that if a black woman doesn't fit a European margin of beauty she is only worthy of disdain.

I want someone to look at me, see the fire burning in my eyes and know that I am the real deal.

I want SOMEBODY to see the beauty that is me.

I want people who only care about 'dressing to impress' to impress me by shutting up.

Maybe I should walk around singing India.Arie's 'I Am Not My Hair,' even if no one gets it but me.

**The exception to this are those people who are locked, were locked, or whose lover is locked. I bask in their attention. People who have cut their locks often say I make them miss their locks. THAT is a compliment**

Peace.

Edmonia Lewis' Death of Cleopatra

2006-10-12T11:07:00.000-04:00

Art in Black Women's Hands

Last night I dreamed I decolonized my thighs.

2006-10-10T19:01:00.001-04:00

This post is for grown ups. I make no apologies.
This is a part of an essay I submitted to a proposed book about black women and their sexuality, about how we deal with and/or break free of labels.

Last night I dreamed I decolonized my thighs.
I dreamed I had an hour long orgasm.
I dreamed I was being had from behind by someone I did not care to see.
I walked up to delicious strangers on the street and admitted that I would love to lick them from head to toe.
I pleasured myself with my hands, my toys, my lover and then borrowed your hands, fist, your toys, your lover, you
…I moved on in this fashion until I was quite satisfied!

Unfortunately morning came before I really tested my limits. I awakened with a satisfied smile.

Now, reading this to myself in the daylight, I blush. I surprise myself. I am still surprised by my brashness. I wish I were bolder, but I dare only express these things, bit by juicy bit to a lover. I reveal things slowly, as if each revelation were new, and not fantasies I have dreamed of a million times. It would take me a while, and even so, I'd blush when admitting my desires.

It is not very often that I have made love to someone soon after meeting them. There have been times when I have met someone and instantly thought that our bodies would fit together wonderfully. In the cases where we did make love later, I have always been proven to be correct and we were great together. I have learned to trust that my instincts are fantastic. It's important that I validate those instincts. It used to be that I did not trust myself.

It used to be that I carried shame like it was a prize. As an incest survivor, I realize that I own no shame. It took a long time before I came to the realization that I could not afford to hold onto what other people thought about me. It took even longer to realize that I am not responsible for the decisions of others. I have had to realize that there is nothing more crippling than living half a life, afraid of rejection. I decided to live without the labels others would assign. I take what I want, and I leave what I want. I learned self-acceptance, and learned to love me.

I found myself struggling to fight the Jezebel image, even though most would probably figure me for the Aunt Jemima role. I found I suppressed my desires. Even in my own home, in my own bed, in the dark, with the beautiful women who have loved me. I would backpedal. It would take forever to admit a desire, a fantasy. I was ashamed. Some days I wanted to be Jezebel. I wanted to be brazen, a temptress. I wanted to be easy, and not care. I didn't want to feel horrible whenever I strayed from the missionary position. I clung to the image of a good girl. I was afraid I would scare a lover away. But, I had to think about it , if a lover knocks my socks off it meant she had studied the fine art of lovemaking. She had learned and explored. I don't judge others harshly for that . As a matter of fact, I was very grateful to have found it. So why should I see myself differently. I did not judge others the way I judged myself. I did not think of other women as harshly as I saw myself. I often looked at others with an admiration, and respect for having the courage to be themselves. Slowly, I began to unravel the source of my shame.

And now? Well, now, I am looking for someone with whom I feel safe and secure. Someone with whom I can let down my hair, so that I can explore until we both collapse, sleep, awaken, and then explore more and more and more...

Peace

In Honor of Masumi Hayashi

2006-10-04T20:45:00.000-04:00

The first time I ever saw a panoramic photo collage, I fell in love. I had put photography class on my list of things to do. I wanted to take a class with Masumi Hayashi. The more I saw of her work the more I liked, then loved.

Then I began to learn little things about the artist. Masumi Hayashi was born in the Gila River Relocation camp in Arizona in 1945. She has been a professor of Photography at Cleveland State University for more than twenty years. This past weekend Ms. Hayashi was murdered in her apartment by a mentally disturbed neighbor. This beautiful, talented, amazing woman, and another artist, sculptor, were taken away from the world violently.

No, she is not more worthy of mourning because of her talent. They are worthy of mourning because they were taken violently, and before their time. I think she deserved better than to have come into the world imprisoned, and to have her life taken, violently, and imprisoned--I am certain she did not welcome death. Everyone deserves better than this.

I still have photography on my list of things to do. It is beautiful that we have her powerful work; we have her powerful voice. Her work cannot be silenced.

With a heavy heart, I wish you peace.

Now you see me...oh, no, you don't (being femme)

2006-10-04T20:31:00.001-04:00

It is frustrating, being invisible. It is still something that I cannot figure out how to navigate.

Years ago, I had a heated argument with my former partner about black femmes. I told her that we are invisible and that in order to be seen, we must either wear something which identifies us as gay, be in an environment that would identify us as gay, or overtly flirt. Otherwise, how would you spot us? I mean, there is no specific haircut or handshake. We are largely invisible. I mean, if your gay-dar is really, really good you might spot me, but you would question yourself. I challenged her to test it out. When we are out, how many black femmies do you see? Then, when at a gay event, gathering, how many of the femme women there would you walk past and assume to be straight if you were in another environment?

It's frustrating. I do not, generally, flirt. I mean, I have had my moments, but for the most part I like to be approached. Actually, I love to be approached. I make eye contact, to communicate that I am open to some conversation, but that is about it for me. It's subtle, and if you are not looking for subtle you would miss it completely. I really don't like the bar scene, unless I am going out dancing. I like live music, museums, and the theatre. I like to learn things and have wonderful conversations. But I am easy to miss.

I am femme. I cannot walk hard. I do not act hard. I think butch women are sexy. I do not define butch as masculine, or hard. It's hard to define, but so delightful to see. It is not about 'acting like' anything, it's natural, sexy, and real. That is what I like. I assume that a woman who is attracted to me, is attracted to my heels, purses, lipstick, and tight jeans.

So, femmes, be of good cheer. Keep your head up. Making eye contact; you know, the kind that would make a straight woman uncomfortable, but lets a butch woman know exactly where you're coming from.

; )
Peace.

storm indigo

Did Dante Know You?

Love...

Happy Memorial Day

what melts away...

still learning

Kindred Spirit

I Have Never Been More

Happiness and Change

untitled

Iona Rozeal Brown at MOCA Cleveland

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why

an old attempt at haiku

Just A Question

I Am The Pin-Up Queen Of My Own Universe

Busy

Happy 2010!

My Dad

Love

The Dark

storm indigo, kind of blue

The Power of Touch

The Pull Towards Water

The Kindness of Strangers

My Love For You

How to Warm Up After a Snow Storm

Lightness

This Is Not Lust

To Dread or Not to Dread, That is the Question

Smoke Signals

2009, so far

Looking for a rockin babe!

Weather Forecast

Pouting

So Very Proud Of My Country

I never thought I'd see this day

Niagara Falls

Empty Nest

For My Lover:

Can you say relaxed?

The Big Apple

Mono!!??!!

Ne me quitte pas - Nina Simone

Pat Parker

That word 'queer'

just a few fine womyn...

Fleeting thought

I love butch women

Renewed, almost.

I will blame it on spring

Beautiful Lake Erie

My Sweetest

Loneliness

Customer Service?

Simple Delights

This is my favorite part of Cuyahoga Valley National Park

Refueling

Relationships

what a day

Where I am right this moment...

Tend That Inward Fire

Ache

102 Things.

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

..nappy headed hoes...

Happy Belated Easter

Dark Desires

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

XVII (I do not love you...)

Toughest Week

Donate for Free

Can Somebody PLEASE....

What is romantic?

A to Z Me

$&*@ WINTER! $&*@ BLIZZARDS!

WOO-HOO

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

Serena is BACK!

Trying to Motivate Myself

What people don't understand about terror

$&@ WINTER! $&@ BLIZZARDS!