No Matter How Small The Flame

Last night, I decided to take a long relaxing bath. I like my bath water to be nearly scolding hot, so I only turn the cold water on slightly when filling the tub. I poured a capful of lavender and chamomile bubble bath beneath the stream of running water. Then I lit a two inch candle placed in one of the many uniquely shaped candle holders that I've collected over the years. People like to give me candle holders. This particular one in the shape of a snail, was placed near the water knobs at the corner of my tub behind the shower stall. Once the tub was filled, I tested the temperature by slowly and carefully submerging one of my feet in the water. Too hot, I knew it. More cold water. I reached over the candle to turn on the cold water again. My forearm was several inches away from the small flame when I felt the fire burning me. Ouch! How could a flame so small hurt me like that? A metaphor for old love I thought.

No matter how small the flame, the fire still has the potential to burn. Careful, love, careful.

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Awaking to Love and Real Life

I was asleep. The phone rang and because I knew royalty was on the other end, I awakened with a smile, stretched and answered "hello" in a sing song voice. That's the way every girl should wake up in the morning--- feeling like a princess. Honestly, I fully expected my ladies in waiting to enter the room, serve me breakfast in bed, run down my schedule of activities for the day and hold up outfits in front of me to choose from for each event.

As we talked, occasionally he'd laugh at some of the silly girlish things that dribble off my lips whenever I know I have his full attention and I'd fall a little more into a dream state. After hanging up, I had to shake myself back to reality, drag my ass out of bed and get ready for what? You guessed it-- WORK!

All throughout the day, I thought to myself--- Damn, the life of a princess has gotten kinda hard.

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Something Sweet and Soothing

Last weekend I got really depressed. I had a misunderstanding with someone which resulted in me having several severe anxiety attacks. I thought my heart was going to explode and the tears that I normally hold back in such instances couldn't be stopped. There was no one I could call or even wanted to call.

So, I did what comes natural to most women in my situation. I went downstairs to the kitchen and fixed myself a bowl of cookies & cream. As I consumed each spoonful, my physical therapy began. I closed my eyes and let the oreos and cream mix and melt on my tongue before swallowing the smooth delicious ingenious concoction. And like the ice cream, all of my anxiety seemed to melt away.

Anyone who says you can't find solutions to your problems by eating... well, they're right. However, I do know drowning myself in that bowl of cookies and cream made me feel a helluva lot better.

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Just in case...

Just in case he ever forgets, I left him this reminder. If he finds it, great. If he doesn't, it wasn't meant to be. I have told him. He knows. I have asked him, I'm still waiting. I will wait forever.

Pour votre altesse
Je t'aime. Vous êtes l'amour vrai de ma vie et je veux être cette manière avec toi pour toujours. Je veux toujours svp à toi n'aime aucune autre femme. Séjour avec moi. Être avec moi. Me choisir.

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Changes

My life is changing. I'm moving into a new townhouse, finishing my graduate studies, jump starting my writing career. Not to mention the fact that I have relationships that require my nurturing tender love and care even more lately. All of this may sound exciting, but it gets exhausting. Every day, I wonder why these changes in my life have to happen all at once.

Years ago, I read a book by Danielle Steele called "Changes" that included a poem with the same title in the front. Today I recalled it for someone in my circle to explain what I'm going through.

Changing,
Dancing,
Leaping,
Creeping
From old life
Into new,
Wondering
What
I think
Of you,
Unseen dreams,
And newfound
Schemes,
Two lives
Enmeshed,
Embroiled,
Enhanced
At last,
And suddenly
Heart
Snagged,
Held fast,
No turning
Back,
No letting go,
Too late to run
Too soon
To know
If all is well,
Yet time
Will tell
It all,
And softly
In the night
I call
Your name,
Nothing quite
The same
Admidst this total
Rearranging,
As everything
About me
Is shifting,
Moving,
Changing.

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No Regrets

No Regrets... Ever

He asked if I would have any regrets if we made love
I answered with a question of my own
Regrets?
Kissing, hugging, sleeping next to you
Having you between my legs
Eating, drinking, licking me
Having you in my mouth
Tasting, licking, drinking you,
Being between your legs,
While you're in my sanctum, on my back, from the back?
Never baby, ever.

And then we made love for the next fifty years.

We all should be so blessed... to find someone whom we can love and enjoy making love to for the rest of our lives. Just the other day, a friend and I were discussing our "regrets" about sex. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about because most of us have had at least one sexual experience that we'd like to forget. Some of us have had many, too many, but we won't go there. Call me old-fashioned, but I still admire those couples whose pictures appear in Jet magazine every week with the caption, "Married 50 years." I think it's sweet and I hope and pray between caring for their babies, attending PTA meetings and church services, going on family vacations and to family reunions, and paying mortgages, car notes and tuition, at least half of those years were spent swinging from the chandeliers and making sweet, unregretful, unforgettable love.

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Words of Wisdom from Miss Maya about Married Men

They Went Home

They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But...They went home.

They said my house was licking clean,
no word I spoke was ever mean,
I had an air of mystery,
But...They went home.

My praises were on all men's lips,
they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,
they'd spend one night, or two or three.
But...

--Maya Angelou

I think the poem speaks for itself. For all of my sisters who ever thought about getting involved with a married man, remember at the end of the day, he's going home. Take care of you.

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What I Couldn't Say

Ever wanted to tell someone something, but couldn't bring yourself to utter the words? Because you were unsure or didn't want to reveal how vulnerable he/she made you feel? Because you feared the truth would give away your power? In order to protect yourself from possible disappointment? To keep from sticking your foot in your mouth? It happens, right. Even to the best of us. Times when we could say things that we know would put us on front street so we hold back. I held back and with good reason. The more he talked, the more I realized I had to hold back and act like an adult. Anyway, here's what I couldn't say.

Strummin’ my pain
Singin’ my life
First Roberta,
Then Ms. Hill
Reminded me
Spoke my truth
Made me question
This flesh man
Like strong winds
From the east
From my past
Wakes me
Every day
Keeps me
Through the night
With his words
Promises
Body, mind and heart
Linked together
Passion overflowing
Savors me
In, on, around
Holds me
In his dreams
Feels me
When I speak
Angers me
With secrets
Soothes me
With Baby
Turns my skin
Inside out
Massages
Those parts
I cannot see
Churns my juices
Buttermilk
Spins my soul
Silk
I feel him
He feels me
He fills me
Up, more, over
The top of reason
Beyond logic
Into a future
Clear of signs
No restraints
Deliberately
Intentionally
Carefully
By design
He exists
And I wait
Hope
Pray
His words
His song
My song
My life
Our bodies
Rollover
Merge
Blend
Fuse
Into sweet
Whispers
Lullabies
Synchronous
Longer than
Three days
72 hours
And a day off
To rest
Before his gig ends
Bags packed
Guitar in case
On the next bus
Train
Plane
Leaving Georgia
At midnight
In summertime
When the heat
Waves goodbye
And I forget
The sound of
His voice
My strings
Our song

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Baby Smiles

Last Sunday, my daughter and I had to sit in the balcony at church. It’s been that way for the past couple of Sundays because it’s a new year (not to mention our severe tardiness). Anyway, it doesn’t bother us to sit up there although it takes forever to get out at the end of service.

Well, as I listened to the message and tried to understand how it applied to my own life, I started to notice the cute little brown baby boy who was being held by a woman sitting in front of me. He could have been about seven months old. The woman who I first assumed was his mother had him standing in her lap and facing the both of us. Just as I noticed him and smiled, he noticed me and smiled wider. From that point on, he continued to watch me and wait for me to return his stare, so that he could charm me some more with his deep dimples and curly black afro. Even though I’d returned my attention to Pastor, I could not continue to ignore this sweet child begging for my attention with his stare and rewarding me with such a beautiful happy smile when I gave it to him. Neither could the woman who was holding him. She started bouncing him up and down in an attempt to end his sudden fascination with me. Eventually, she handed him back to his mother who after noticing his interest in something or someone behind her, followed his line of sight to me. I looked at her and smiled. I think she expected to catch me doing something to encourage his behavior. But, I wasn’t. No coochie-coochie-coos, cutsie winks, funny faces, nothing. Only an occasional smile.

I don’t know what this child saw when he looked at me that made him want to smile. I’d like to think that somehow my smiling face made him happy. I’d like to think that he saw what God sees when He looks at me—my spirit. He wasn’t laughing, just smiling like he was the happiest baby alive. Regardless, I won’t soon forget him.

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Remember When Friends

Last week, I was talking to a co-worker and friend and I asked him if he'd realized that we'd become "Remember When" friends. Seems like just yesterday that we started working together. Now, our conversations are frequently peppered with the opening phrase, "Rememeber when." I guess that's a good thing, you know-- having people in your life who have been around long enough to reminisce about your past. Being in someone else's life long enough to reflect on shared experiences. Making history with others. Of course, no one wants to be reminded of things that may not have been so pleasant. But I've found that those type of folks usually don't last long in my life anyway because they just bring too much negativity with them.

CHALLENGE YOURSELF: Look in your immediate circle and count the number of "remember when" friends that you have.

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Going Home

So, my friend Cole says that I need to do some blogging and he's right. I've been in and out of town during the past two weeks, so my spare time has been spent mostly packing and unpacking my bags, doing laundry and resting up from the long road trips.

My parents live in North Carolina in a small town called Scotland Neck. Yeah, I'm sure you've heard of it. It's between nowhere and nowhere. Every year, my family gets together-- parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, and kids--at my grandmother's house in Dawson (even smaller town... more like a road) to celebrate Christmas. I'm not there every year, but I make it when I can. Although my grandmother passed last year, the family tradition continues.

When I turned 18, I couldn't get out of that town quick enough. A native of Brooklyn, NY (my aunt likes to remind me from time to time that NC is not really home for me), I lived in Scotland Neck for 12 years. I detested it because most of my family was still in NY. There wasn't enough to do and it was too damn quiet. I longed for the sirens of fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars, for the sounds of the subway passing over the tracks, for the horn honking of irate and frustrated drivers stuck in city traffic. That was the soundtrack of my life for the first six and a half years. Then came life in a small town where everyone (and I do mean EVERYONE) knows your name and your business.

It's only now since I've been away from there for 16 years that I can appreciate that life. I'm not ready to pack my bags today and move back although I won't rule it out for retirement. But, going back reminds me of a few things that I don't have living in the city again (Atlanta). Things like open roads, fresh air, quiet time, clear night skies with twinkling stars. Going back also reminds me of a time before I knew what the world was really like, when I still believed in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, when I learned about God. More than anything, going back reminds me about falling in love and innocence.

Yeah, small towns are good for something. And Scotland Neck is home.

Love to home.

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Bag Lady

Bag lady you gone hurt your back
Dragging all them bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you
All you must hold on to
Is you, is you, is you

Erykah Badu

My co-worker calls me the bag lady. And it's funny because he's so right. I always carry at least two bags--my purse and a workbag. Today, I had four bags--my purse, a workbag, my lunch bag, and another bag to carry a large box of software. Do I really need all this stuff I lug to and from work everyday? Probably not. I'm not into making new years' resolutions, but I'll make this one (with my new year beginning tomorrow... who am I kidding? more like next week). I'm going to stop carrying around so much damn baggage. And if carrying less bags physically will somehow translate into carrying less bags emotionally, then I'm all for it.

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Rainy Day in Georgia

Another rainy day in Georgia. And this morning I felt like it was raining in my life. I was kinda down. Mostly because I felt pulled in too many opposing directions, which is my fault for over-committing myself. What's that saying, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Believe me, I've been on that road and not only can you feel the heat emanating as you near hell's fire, but you can also hear the screams of others who have gone before you. What I know for sure--people will take as much as you're willing to give. I need to start saving as much of myself as I need for myself... to feel happy... to feel fulfilled... to not feel used up.

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Here's to a Break

Last night I had my last class for the semester. BTW, I'm a graduate student at a university here in town. I only took one course this semester because with my 40 hour+ work week, it's about all I could handle. Anyway, I wanted to jump up and click my heels in mid-air after class last night (something I could never do but looks quite fun when I see my co-worker do it whenever the mood strikes him).

Now I can exhale. My plans while I'm on winter break are to focus on cleaning up my living space and doing some other important activities (like going to church, blogging and working on my novel). I'm also planning to go up to North Carolina and spend some time with my family the week before Christmas.

It feels good to get a break from the reading and the assignments.

Oh well, this is my last entry for the month. I'm thinking about all of the things I wanted to write about, but never found the time like Bad Hair Days and 13 yr. old daughters and the crazy men in my life. Just wait. Next month promises to be better. I'll have a little more time to play.

Raise your glasses everyone. Brooklyn's back on the playground.

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Put Your Lighters Up

Respect to Brooklyn. Love to Scotland Neck. Peace to Atlanta.

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More Than One Way

There's more than your way. More than my way. More than anyone's way. More than one way to do anything. Maybe there's only one right way. But the right way depends on what's right for you.

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Bound to Happen

About a month and a half ago, my brother got married adding to my constantly growing number of in-laws. I now have two brothers-in-law and three sisters-in-law (if you count my brother-in-law's first wife). I know that I'm supposed to feel like I gained a sister, but I feel more like I lost a brother. That's because, although he didn't call a whole lot before he got married (due to the long hours that he works), he NEVER calls now. What a drag.

You'd think after growing up in the same house with someone for 15 years (I'm three years older than him, so I left when he was 15), they would call at least sometimes, right? Wrong. My sister got married last year and I actually felt like I was gaining a brother then. Must be something about when the sons get married, they actually join their wives' families. That seems backwards.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I miss my brother. I'm happy that he's started his own family, but I'm sad that he no longer seems apart of our family.

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Workplace Politics

You can't avoid them. No matter where you work or what you do. You will inevitably have to deal with them. So, don't forget to put on your "whole armour" everyday before you leave the house.

Most days I listen to the radio or a cd in my car on the way to work. Some days when I'm not so self-concious about who may be watching me from nearby cars on the road, I sing along. It's at least a 35-minute commute. By the time I arrive at work, I'm bouncing along and as happy as a lark (my mother used to say that a lot when I was younger). No matter how happy or motivated I am to avoid the b.s., I usually run into someone very early in the day who's hell bent on feeding me a truck load of crap.

Like today for instance... My co-worker and I were told week before last by our old supervisor that we had to move out of our spacious office into another one on the second floor which is half the size. We were told that we didn't have a choice. Then last week, our new supervisor per her supervisor told us not to move . Well, lo and behold, this morning, we were given boxes for our impending move. What the...?

So, I asked the question, "Do we still need these?"

A deadpan look, "For your move?

"Yes." My response.

"Yes." Another deadpan look.

"We were told not to move." My response.

"By whom?" Continued deadpan look.

"Ummm, by our supervisor, per her supervisor."

"Well, take the boxes and I'll make a phone call and let you know."

All I can say is "whole armour." If you're not familiar with what that means and if you don't mind reading the Bible, check it out here - Ephesians 6:10-20.

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The Interruption of Love

For all of you who followed Stella to Jamaica to get your groove back with a younger man (or at least fantasized about it), here's how the story ends. Ten years later, Stella tells Oprah that the love of her life, the fantasy whom she met in Jamaica is actually gay. Go figure. Only in the twenty-first century do our love stories turn into full blown nightmares.

So Stella a.k.a. Terri McMillan and Winston a.k.a. Jonathan Plummer, her now ex-husband paid Oprah a visit on Wednesday and talked candidly about his coming out and the demise of their six year marriage. Two things were clear as I watched them interact with one another on the show. The first being that she was mad as hell with him when she found out (evidenced by the angry profane phone messages that were played back for the entire viewing audience). The second, based on her body language, she is still in love with him.

The next day at work, my colleagues and I stood around the "water cooler" and discussed the idea of not being able to turn love on and off based on the object of our affection's betrayal (I guess when it comes to matters of the heart, sexual orientation is not the bigger issue). Most of us agreed that it's hard to just stop loving someone even when you want to hate them for hurting you. So, the lesson here... be discriminating about who you actually ALLOW yourself to fall in love with because it's easier to fall in love than to fall out. Some would argue that you can't help who you fall in love with and people don't always show you who they are until you're already in love. Maybe. Maybe not, but be careful anyway. We've all heard the song, "It's a thin line between love and hate." That may be true; however, most of us almost always refuse to take that leap over the line to hate. And who can blame us?

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Every Girl Needs a Mac

Need I say more? I shouldn't have to, but just in case. Tune in to any television show or watch any movie these days and you'll notice the Apple logo on the back of the main character's computer. Of course, Macs ARE the sexiest looking computers on the market right now. Well, I'm here to tell you that they not only look good, but they work even better. I've had my iBook for the past 3 years and it works like it's brand new! I've never had to call Tech Support and I've never had a virus (knock on wood).

Last year, I bought an iMac for my home office and I love that machine. Of course, I still have a Dell in the house for my daughter, but I'm planning to promote her to a Mac as soon as possible.

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