For the past several weeks, it has been pouring in NYC. Good weather for crops to grow and a heart to harden. I have drained all possible solutions to this madness I have placed myself into. I have cried and cried and cried, but nothing has come out of it yet. I am waiting- to see my life’s field overflow with abundance. But, perhaps my tears are too salty for anything to grow right now. Yet, I have watered my cheeks in hopes of growing a smile and uprooting this depression that is older than my birth.
This sadness is too old to count with the memories that have shaped the very fiber I have become. I hate to resort to sadness, but I find myself there more and more these days. I want to be like the Buddha, who says things like:
“All that we are is the result of what we have thought. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him”...
I want happiness to follow me like that stray cat that you once fed and now will not let you cross the street in peace without him crossing in-between your ankles. But until then, I find myself alone, tightly sealed in a black plastic garbage bag, waiting for the garbage truck to take me away. And while I am in this bag of garbage, I try to sort all this waste out.
For the past couple of years I have been loosing “friends.” The people I have been there for as much as a freelance, student, single mother, often unemployed, in a unstable living situation can.
I look into myself to reflect and I ask myself: am I really such a horrible person? Or maybe it is just that I am a horrible friend. There is a difference. It is like those men who are great fathers, but terrible husbands… But, back to me. What is it about me that I cannot keep a friend? Is everyone around me growing, dying, or stagnant and in result I am being left behind or leaving others in my dust?
For me, it is especially hard to loose close companions because I do not have family in the States. So, when a friend leaves, it feels more like abandonment.
Several months ago I was suppose to start building my blog and website. But a friend of mine at the time discouraged me by saying that I am not qualified to start my website or teach on the craft of poetry because my grammar is not up to par. The e-mail bothered me because it began “I don't mean this to deter you from your goals, or the big picture but to show you some of the details.” Now, if you do not mean to do something than you do not do it. (They say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions). Anyway, she was uncomfortable with my response, which basically was duuuuh. I know I am not the professor at the Grammar Academy, yet I am a badass and I could do what I wanna. Then at the end of it all, she says not to contact her unless I had something positive to say, which I did not understand, considering she was the one who pointed out every flaw she thought I had in writing. And even though, I am “so flawed” I have taught Creative Writing and she has not. I have won poetry competitions and she has not. Then she talks poorly about a certain writer, than praises her on facebook. Whatever. By the way, I am the one who gave her the idea of translating Yusef Kumunyakaa’s work because she had no clue on whose work to translate for her school’s assignment. Granted, she is a good writer and her classes at NYU have helped her write some fire pieces, but I am a self-starter. I taught myself how to do a lot of things and I guess that angers her or she cannot respect that because it has taken her more time and money to prove her craft and or skill? Then her ass got pretentious and said, oh I can see your going through a lot I have social workers at my church that can help you… Can they help me with writing a poem Aida? NEXT…
Then there is Zion’s ex-god-father. He has been very helpful in the past, but then he tried to get some va-jay-jay… And I was like no, and ever since then, he has been an ass and stop helping me like he use to. I did not like that and I pushed him away. Come on Joel, be nice…
Then there is my rock star friend. She has been breaking up with me since 2003. She mostly gets mad with me because she says I have a big mouth. The last incident occurred when I invited a sista to chill with us in Harlem. So, when the sista fall through my rock star friend was like nah she cannot hang. Long story short, the next day the sista wants to know what was up, why she did not chill with us. And I told her the truth, our rock star friend was not feeling her and since I was at her house, we could not hang out. So, my rock star gets mad for telling sista that… But, I don’t understand why she was mad, if you aint like her then losing her as a friend should not bother you. Come on Gia, you know you a gangster…
Where do I begin on this short-lived journey? I am hurt the most about this one because it is the most recent and I honestly felt this would be the one. Him and I share common interest. It was scary how much we clicked. Clichéd, but he lived in my head. But it turned out despite these similarities; he was a lying, sneaky, conniving asshole. And it did not bother me that he was flirting or trying to boink other women, what bothered me was that he was dishonest when I approached him about it. It was like he was on some mind your business shit. And on top of that, he wanted me to be faithful to him and was constantly making accusatory statements about me and other men. I even put my dream on hold because of him or because of my love of him. Either way, I am going to take his advice and mind my own business… Come on Barry be a Brother.
So, that is what I intend to do. To mind my own business. To do exactly what I want to do without worrying myself with what others think I should do. To write in fragments without grammar and punctuation.
And after this storm, after the puffiness in my eyes go down, and the clouds break away, I will look at my rainbow over my mountain (Hi! Zion) and enjoy the view from the top.
Thank You blog world for the release, the rain is clearing…
Be Well in Writing,