There I go...

So here I am. The last post, maybe forever, maybe just for awhile. I don't know. I don't know anything, haven't for quite some time.

But I'm going to keep on moving. I feel as though this is a momentous occasion, some sort of watershed in my life, although I know it is not. But it really feels like this is closing a chapter of my life. Much has changed since I started this and as usual, they were all the things that I secretly hoped wouldn't, or would never have expected to. But that "is the life"...That's what a French friend of mine used to say, he would always add the extra article. He also always translated the french word for neighborhood (quartier) as quarters no matter how many times I told him otherwise. That was annoying, but he was a great kisser, but that's another story...

Anyway, here I go. I still think of the boy whenever it's quiet and still or I'm alone with my thoughts, but maybe I always will, it really was that kind of love, at least for me...But I'm settling into Seattle. I even got a promotion and a raise recently and I've only been on the job a month. So now, while I still sometimes feel like a doe on shaky legs trying to balance myself and stand on my own in this new life of mine, I do think that I may finally have the ganas to make it happen...

Here I go...

this is it, what...let's get rich, what...*

I have made the decision. This will be my last week of posting to this blog. It's time to end this and move on to what I really need to be doing. This blog has helped me immensely since I began last April, but I am starting to see that it has diverted my energies from what I need to be doing. It is a time waster for me. A way of saying that I'm writing regularly without really writing. It's just not the real deal and I have to move on...

Straight from the cask said that writing is "the most beautiful and meaningful activity one can adopt." He's French, he knows these things...

I have to be about the business of writing, for real now.


*everyone knows, it's from the song "Luchini aka This Is It", Camp Lo ("Uptown Saturday Night" Profile Records, 1999), don't they?

Loneliness and Louise Erdrich

Why do I feel so terrible? I don't know. I'm in such a stinky mood lately andI'm not sure if it's the weather change -it's finally drizzly and gray for the long haul here in Seattle- or if it's because my friend will be visiting soon, or if what's going on my life is just gross. In the past this might have been a time for a little retail therapy, but I am too poor now to commit to the intensive therapy that would facilitate any true, lasting healing...

I was walking to work yesterday and I realized that my life has begun to return to what I don't want it to be. That everyday drudgery, that go-to-work- come-home cycle. I know that it is only temporary, but I'm not helping myself because I'm not doing the things that I need to do for my future, ie, writing, and for my soul, ie, writing. Why? Because I am alone here and feeling fairly lonely. I am feeling sorry for myself because the adjustment to this place has been difficult, as some of you know, and I seem to have once again taken up my most familiar past time of wallowing in my loneliness. It might be fairly accurate to say that I just know that I am a lonely person, but I guess I have to admit that I wallow in it sometimes too. Yes, I know that this is not productive and I know that the intensity of the way I am feeling is only temporary too. The fact is, I have always been keenly aware, since I was a child, actually, that I am lonely. There have only been a few times in my life when I was not.

I don't really know what to do about that, I just live with it, I guess loneliness is my companion in a sense.

Wow, does this sound pathetic or what?

I don't mean it to, it's just that I know ultimately what I need to make it go away and that's not something I can necessarily make happen on my own.

See, I am not lacking in the self-esteem department, or too shy or afraid to make friends. I am not a weirdo -at least not in a disturbing sort of way- I am not one of those people who needs constant validation from others. BUT, I am one of those people who is really strong, independent, no nonsense, and even at times, enchanting. Yes, I said it, so shut up. It's true though and I forgot one thing, I'm not arrogant or exclusive. I am sure of myself and accepting of others at the same time and I am very honest.

You would think that I might have hordes of people flocking to me. But I don't, I've realized some things in evolving into the person I describe above and am fiercely proud of, and that is a lot of people don't like those things. This is starting to sound like I ripped a few pages from the martyr handbook and posted them here, but that is my intention. I suppose I'll just have to find away to abate the loneliness. I go through these periods, kind of like phases, when I realize that I am alone. Now more than ever, because so much has changed this year and I still don't know how to reach my destination and there's no one to really help me or even accompany me on the journey, as I thought there might be a few months ago.

Anyway, I feel okay about it and I know that my own behavior, ie, not writing, is a huge cause of this. I'm postponing the thing that makes me whole. Why? No complex answer, I am being lazy, I am a procrastinator, and at times I've been feeling sorry for myself. I wonder if Toni Morrison or Louise Erdrich ever went through these things.

By the way, I went to see Louis Erdrich read passages from her new book, The Painted Drum, last night at Elliot Bay Books. God, I want to be like her. This is big, because I don't want to be like anyone, ever. Her writing is so moving, so like a painting in muted colors that captures your attention through the subtlety of its expression. Like Toni Morrison, her writing, really touches you, moves you in ways you didn't know possible.

Could I be like that? Could I touch people, move them in ways they didn't know possible? Something in me tells me that I could.

I better get on that.

By the way, stop by and say hello to Sharon. She is home now and sounds like she is doing well, which makes me feel a little less lonely...

*my favorite book by Louise Erdrich is the Antelope Wife.
**Elliot Bay Books along with 57th Street Books in Chicago have to be the most amazing independent bookstores I've been to.
***my favorite book by Toni Morrison is Song of Solomon. Oh, and the newest, Love is quite amazing too.

The topic at hand...

This has been a week filled with disappointments.

Well, only three really, but I guess that's a lot for the period in which they sprang up. Three days by the way, that's when all of these things occurred. I am alright though, I don't feel emotionally bruised or battered, I guess these disappointments weren't so serious but they were definitely unexpected.

That's life, I suppose. I wish it didn't have to be. I wish that everyone was given one day when they would be granted their heart's desire. You would decide when you wanted that day, but that would be it, one day, and after that things would go back to normal. You couldn't wish for anything mean or spiteful, like the death of your ex-boyfriend or girlfriend for breaking up with you, or a lifelong curse on the woman in the minivan in the grocery store parking lot who slid into that space in front of you when she knew... Of course, some people would use their day by the time they were six years old, or at least by the time they were 25. Only the most sage among us would hold on until at least our mid-thirties, when you finally begin to understand a little bit about life and what it means.

I'm pretty sure I'd be stuck in there somewhere among the 6-25 year old set.

I'm slowly learning what it means to be an adult and I'm keenly aware of that. This week made me see...You have to accept your disappointments and move on, even though a little bit of each one we experience sticks with us. If we're lucky, it sticks in the form of experience that we draw on and use to navigate the rest of our lives in a positive manner. If we're not so lucky the vestiges of those disappointments stay with us in the form of a big, sticky mass that lingers and turns into something we can't seem to shake no matter how hard we try. Something may happen that allows us to clean it all up and free ourselves from that sticky mess, like a big bottle of Goo Gone or something. Unfortunately many people don't open up that proverbial bottle. Even more unfortunate, sometimes people don't recognize that big bottle of Goo Gone for what it is and there's usually no one to tell us, at least no one we're apt to listen to.

This is a little corny, but you get my drift, I hope.

Signs and stuff...

I talked to someone the other day who told me the story of a woman who is engaged to a man who she is not sure she likes, but she's staying with him, sticking it out, apparently, because there are signs that seem to point to the fact that this man is who she should be with. So the person I was talking to asked me if I believed in that kind of thing.

"What kind of thing?" I asked.
"In signs. You know like, do you believe that things happen for a reason, or that certain people are put into your life for very specific reasons?"
"Of course." I replied.

So today I am thinking, well, not just today, but often I think about this. Especially this year, forgive me if this is sounding trite.

Anyway, I look for signs in life. Sometimes, I think I try too hard to find them. I don't really do this because my life has no meaning, or because I'm necessarily looking for something, but I really believe that life is full of signs, in fact Sharon wrote something along these lines not so very long ago.

Today I met a man who is going to help me make Algerian pastries. A chef. He described himself to me as tall and dark-skinned with glasses. When I met him today, he was with another man, who was actually tall and darker-skinned than he was, he also happened to be wearing glasses. I assumed it was my guy, but no. Not a sign, but kind of a funny thing today. When this man described himself to me, I was tempted to ask, "Do you mean tall by Algerian standards or American ones?" Because those are two very different standards. After meeting him, it's clear to me that he meant Algerian ones. He talked lots to me about food and how Algerian men misrepresent themselves to women when the leave Algerie and immigrate. He kept saying Algerie, instead of Algeria and Alger instead of Algiers. "I have a little experience..." was my reply.

Very interesting...

Sorry, this will be for those French-speakers out there. Those of you with a few years of French under your belt should be straight too...

click here

The gist, a magazine in Morocco published an article about immigrants coming in to the country from Sub-Saharan Africa. The article was titled "Les criquets noirs envahissent le nord du Maroc" or "Black crickets invade northern Morocco".

YIKES!!

The King of Morocco issued a statement saying essentially that he condemns the paper's publishing and stance saying that 'the Kingdom of Morocco does not advocate any sort of discrimination against anyone based gender (perhaps this includes sexual orientation too, but I'm not sure if it would), religion, race, or color (probably skin tone, for those of you of lighter hue, not in the know about these things), because, to do so, would go against sacred principles of Islam and international law.' This is a loose (but fairly accurate) translation...I know we (black people) do this to each other all over the world, but it's interesting to see it playing out on the continent... I also have to point out that this sort of paints a slightly different picture of Islam and Muslim attitudes. I don't know tons, but I know that on paper (and even historically), it really seems to be the fairest, most inclusive of all world religions. Oooh I better watch it before I make it on to some Homeland Security watchlist, but I guess it's too late for that....

I couldn't find the site or a link to the article itself, but here are some reactions from message boards and the French web portal & search engine Wanadoo...Sorry non-French speakers....


Lord, let my people go!!

The First Step

Today I finally sent out a query letter to a magazine. This was a letter I wrote about three weeks ago and have had saved on my computer since. I would look at it periodically, read it, sometimes change the wording and then, close it without sending. But today, I did it. I don't know why I didn't send it before. Maybe I was (am) scared. But, of what? Rejection? I'm not sure that's possible, I've had enough experience with that to be able to handle it. Besides, that's not normally the kind of thing I fear. Actually, I don't know what I fear. Being scared, if I haven't mentioned it, is sort of new for me, it's something I first experienced --or maybe let myself experience-- in France last year. I just let myself go and be paralyzed with fear. So much so, that I couldn't make decisions without second guessing myself, or really even make any sort of move. Hence, the phrase paralyzed with fear, I guess...

I think that experience was good for me, because much like the complete and utter failure that I also experienced last year, I learned that there is nothing to fear in fear, if that makes any sense. Sure, there is uncertainty, pain, and sometimes even despair, but it's not the end of the world and going through it, makes you realize in the end that you can do anything, or what your limitations are, whatever the case may be. This is a very good thing. I've said before, failure is liberating. I should perhaps restate that and say failure and fear are liberating.

Another thing I'm afraid of: there is a boy who is interested in me. A tattoo artist. He seems very nice and clearly he likes me. I ran into him today and made him giggle. Picture a big, muscular man with long hair and biceps covered with tattoos, giggling. That may be hard and sounds kind of weird, but I often have that effect on men, I make them giggle, what does that say about me? What does that say about them? He practically ran out of the shop to catch up with me as I walked by today. I shouldn't be scared, I realize, but this is new. He seems different, nice. He treats me like he has a crush. He could be a freak, yes, I realize this, but maybe not. I sense that he is, gulp, perhaps kind of normal. I'm scared. How will I act, if he is nice, if he is normal? What will I do? I've never known that before...

Morocco or bust...

The past couple of weeks have been hard for me. I am missing France, I am missing the way of life and outlook that I know so well back east. I am generally not feeling Seattle right now, but I guess this is what happens when you move somewhere new. It did happen in Paris at first, but, I don't know, things made so much more sense there than here.

I saw a flight to Morocco advertised in the paper. Not too expensive and you know, I was so tempted to call and reserve. In fact, I did and held it for a day, but then I called and canceled because I realized that if I did actually buy it:

a. I'd have no money for food here until I left, or there once I arrived

and

b. I'd just be running away from the pain of the past few months. It would be like a really expensive drinking binge, but of course, way more fun.

Anyway, I tend to do that when I am sad, I want to travel and explore, because it takes my mind off of things. I think it's a pretty harmless escape mechanism, but just like anything else, alcohol, crack, heroin, chocolate cake, when it's all over your pain is still there. But this is a different kind of pain that maybe a jaunt to Morocco would clear right up. I don't know. I'm still debating. Do I really need to eat or ride the bus when the alternative is Casablanca, or Fez, or the Sahara? Eating is overrated, isn't it? Besides, I'm cute, I could swing a meal or two once I got there. Makrout, chorba, bastilla. I can work it for all that.

Okay back to reality. Reality can be so unfortunate sometimes...

You go, Mexico!!

¡ORALE!

2 Septembre

Now here I am, back where I started when I arrived in April. Same internet cafe, same computer. So much more has happened but strangely, I feel as though I am the same as before. I know that's not true. Today I thought, for the first time in life, that I wish I could go back and change some things. If I could, I'd go back to May and I'd make it so I'd never have to experience the yuckiest parts of the summer, but, even those were good for me, or at least I can see that they will be in the long run. Except Gregory, I'm not sure I can ever accept the loss of Gregory. I'll never see the sense in that.

Hmmmm.

I am thinking of the people on the Gulf Coast and how the dark skin of so many of them has sealed their collective fate. I am thinking of how I was struck suddenly after seeing the front page photo of today's New York Times, by the realization of how undervalued Black people are in this country, it's something I've always known. It's something every Black person in this country grows up knowing; it's just a part of life here for us. I have cried today. And I am feeling again today, that I just have to pick myself up, write more, read more, go out into it, and take the next step.

Haiku (almost)

Tonight, an orange moon

glows.

"Come here. Look." He would say.

Third Wheels?

I have made a new friend here and I really like her. She's as sweet as pie, as they say. She is originally from the Midwest and a really silly girl. She possesses this very charming self-consciousness that is balanced by a total lack of pretention. She is totally unassuming. She is also married.

Now I say this, not as a sort of "oh no" aside, but because I went out with her recently, for the first time and her husband came along. Prior to this, we'd had several conversations about what she did on weekends on days off, etc. They all seemed to include her husband. It could have been something she did just with him, but more often that not it also included other people, single women, mutual friends. So, after awhile I asked her

"Do you do everything with him?"

It was then that I realized that it made her feel a little self-conscious when she replied in a stilted manner with this explanation:

"No, I do other stuff without him, I guess it just happens to be these particular stories. You know, I mean, we're friends, we like to hang out, you know? I mean, we have lots of mutual friends, really." "That's really it, we don't do everything together."

But I didn't mean it critically, or did I? I don't think it's bad to do everything with your boyfriend or husband, I guess I've just never had a relationship like that, where someone wanted to do things with me all of the time, so I can't imagine it. It sounds kind of nice, but also kind of annoying. Really, what she made me think of was another friend whose boyfriend (now husband) had recently moved in with her and consequently they began doing everything together. One day when we were both still living in Chicago, she suggested we go to yoga and I said that would be great, she then said: "Oh, I'll just tell Marcus* and he can meet us there." I remember thinking 'hey, since when did Marcus enter this particular equation?' First, I actually thought it weird that a guy would do yoga**, I'm not sure I'd want my man doing yoga, a little too sensitive for me. Then I thought, why would he want to do it with us? And why would she want him to? I ended up canceling and thinking who really is the third wheel here?

So my outing and conversations with my new friend got me thinking. Am I/Have I been jealous because I don't have a boyfriend, because I am perpetually single, or is it weird that a couple does everything together ALL THE TIME-- from hanging out with his friends to hanging out with hers?

I have to say I think it's weird. Maybe because as I said, I've never been with a man who accompanied me everywhere I went, but I think that I wouldn't even want that. Or would I? Maybe it's wonderful. But from this end it still seems like it would be way annoying. You know, maybe that's why I'm still single. Well, at this point it's not, but maybe it's why I will be single for awhile yet....


*names have been changed to protect the innocent.
**please don't write comments about this, I know plenty of men enjoy and benefit from yoga.

All is right with the world...

Just when I think I am fed up with the phony, pseudo-liberal, pretentious, homogeneity so prevalent here in Seattle, I am awed by the physical beauty that exists here.

Lush greenery. Olive trees, cherry trees, apple trees. Blackberry brambles and wild rosemary. Everywhere, complex symphonies of fragrance and color in the flowers that seduce me each time I pass.

And tonight there is a beautiful full moon, encircled by glowing yellow rings and suspended in a sky full of stars.

You can't beat that.

Eu falo português...eventually, that is...

I am very excited today, I resume my Brazilian Portuguese immersion. I am meeting someone who will give me Portuguese lessons in exchange for French ones. I also have a Portuguese teacher, who I will resume meetings with after I move and get settled into a better routine.

I've mentioned before that I like the language. I really do love it. It's beautiful and sexy and I can't wait until I can communicate. It's also kind of hard, pronunciation is difficult and unlike French, a misplaced accent can change the meaning of a word entirely. Wait, let me be more clear, that's not true, misplaced accents in French can change meaning, but generally pronunciation doesn't change. Anyway, I love the language and I am considering a trip maybe during Christmas, or in the spring.

Just one more thing, there is a great blog, from Jôka P called Avenida Copacabana. Even though you may not be able to read what he is writing, his photos are beautiful. Check it out Eunice, especially. I think, his writing is very nice too. :)

PSA

Today was my second day at my new, 'real' job and I have just one thing to say...

If you have nail fungus of any sort, let's handle it people, it's no way to live.

It's in the stars...

Okay, this is today's horoscope from Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology site:

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21):
I couldn't believe the show I saw on the cable channel Spike TV: "Blind Date with a Crackwhore." Fred, a twenty-something stockbroker, got set up on a date with Propecia, a fortyish crackwhore. I watched with horrified fascination as she rejected all his genteel attempts to create rapport, constantly turning the conversation back to where they could score some crack. I bring this to your attention, Scorpio, in hopes it will serve as a shining example of how *not* to proceed in the near future. You have in place everything you need to experience a week full of intensely meaningful adventures with allies who bring out the best in you. Therefore, don't flirt with senseless, random distractions--like blind dates with crackwhores, for instance. And don't do what I did, which is waste precious time entranced by stupid crap. Give every spare moment to capitalizing on the integrity-filled success that's available.

There are a couple of things here I need to know, first and foremost, when does this show come on again and why did it in the first place? Second, who or what is my proverbial "crackwhore"? And since when did crackwhore become one word?

Perspective regained...

I have begun now, when I am quiet and still, to think of the rainy day in Paris when I realized the city was my home. Thoughts of my enemy no longer bulldoze their way into my brain. It's strange, I have an enemy. This happens to be one that I have to protect myself against, not one that I created. Well, I did. I created this enemy with my love. Isn't that even funnier?

But now, I think of Paris. Yes. That rainy day. I even remember the name of the street...Rue de la tombe Issoire. That day, I went to get boxes to mail some things back to the States, but the shop was closed, lunchtime, bien sûr. So, I went to a café to wait. I had two of the most delicious cafés crèmes and here is what I wrote...

18 janvier 2005

I feel compelled to mark this day. Why? The universe only knows. It is quite a dreary day and the weather changed suddenly about five minutes ago. I feel like I am in the Chi. Maybe I'm being prepared for my imminent return.

A sudden downpour has turned to snow, the big fat flakes with a bit of a violent streak...

But I have the good fortune to be inside a little café sipping a café crème while watching Mother Nature throw her temper tantrum.

I am a lucky girl. I know this. I didn't before 2005.

A Jack Russell Terrier, presumably belonging to the owner but maybe not. Perhaps the girl who made my coffee. He's up and ready for action now, much like the weather has changed so suddenly, first lying curled up in his bed fighting sleep and then in a split second up surveying the weather situation and making his rounds in the café.

Right now there is the most fabulous jazz radio station playing--none of that WNUA stuff. Despite all of the adversity, I realize Paris is the place for me, but not right now, I think. I'm not ready for her.

I love Paris. I know this. It is my city. It is my home.

But I told you, I feel good now. I know more. I'm closer to being ready for her...

Grief and Confusion

I've had a difficult last few days. I have been thinking alot about Gregory. He moves in and out of my head...When I am quiet and still I imagine him lying on his front porch saying: "Dude, shot me dead."

This hasn't taken over my life or anything, I just feel a great sense of loss. I have always been one of those people who thought that when someone dies, no matter how tragically or violently, it is simply their time. I have stood by that over the years. But now, I am tempted to say 'NO, IT JUST WASN'T HIS TIME." But it was, or he'd still be here, right? I don't know if this belief is my attempt to make sense of something that makes no sense.

Some things just don't. I should know that by now.

Gregory Ward, R.I.P.

Today one of my babies, one of my former students was shot and killed, probably by one of my other former students. He probably knew, no, he definitely knew who did this to him. His family probably knows. I have my suspicions. Although it will undoubtedly offend, most of you readers probably would have judged him. He was a good boy. Very special. Really, he was. I'm not one to say it if it isn't true, not even in death. He was smart, witty, slightly self-deprecating, and pensive, very thoughtful. He participated in a summer program I created and I used to drive him home during the summer of 2002 a few times each week. He always called the front seat before the other students and I remember him singing this song one day "That's my jam..." he said. I'm sorry Greg.

https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-xpm-2005-08-04-0508040302-story.html

This has made me think, for the first time, that I rather it had been me. Or, I wish I could have protected him. Senseless. There are no words to describe it all. Not because I'd been particularly close to this child, or that I 'd taken him under my wing or anything. Certainly, I saw him as a special one. I can honestly say, that when I worked at that school just knowing he was in the building made me feel better. I don't know how to explain. I watched over him, even though, he probably had no idea. He was a good one. It's not necessarily that he would have been a Nobel Prize winner or a world-reknowned mathemetician (he was really good at math), it's just that he made the world a better place somehow, believe me. But maybe he would have been those things on top of being a gift from the universe. He was a gift to us all, even though I'm not sure he really knew that.

I could say something cliché like 'this whole thing makes me see how insignificant my problems are' or 'I can't waste another moment because life can be snatched from you in an instant' but I won't, because frankly, I knew that before Greg was taken from this world. I will only say, I don't understand the ways of this world, I think I never will.

Nasty Girls

At work today, a conversation with two coworkers got just about as inappropriate as any conversation possibly could. Here's the highlight:

Male Coworker: "You know, in my biology class we saw a film from about 20 years ago called The Miracle of Life and in it they say that when men ejaculate, they release a fluid that contains sugars from their prostate into their semen."

Female Coworker: "Well, it sure doesn't taste like it."

Me: "Yeah, that's for sure, if it did, we'd all have a mouth full of cavities by now."

Of course, we laughed hysterically. But I can't really even remember how we got on the topic in the first place.

Crackin' it up...

Recently I was on the bus, riding through an area of the city where many homeless youth congregate. It was about 7:00 p.m. and still light outside, when the bus pulled up to a stop. I looked over and I see this kid, with several others surrounding him, smoking a crack pipe. I stared at him, he met my gaze unflinchingly--I don't know if this was a result of the crack or a result of his brashness in general. I then looked away and blinked, because I had to make sure that this was not actually happening. When I looked back he had passed it to a friend who had his back to me, but was still positioned in a way that allowed me to see that he was taking hits from the pipe. So I sat there a minute letting it all sink in and when I 'came to', I realized that two other people had been sitting at the windows closest to them and hadn't even flinched or looked or said anything. I thought that perhaps these people had never seen people smoking crack pipes. I was appalled, this was happening in broad daylight, at the bus stop, AND these were kids. WHAT THE FUCK??!!!?? I knew others had seen this. But they were just sitting as if we didn't just see KIDS smoking crack at the bus stop.

It got me thinking about how anesthetized we are to the plights and suffering of others. I mean, I am here in Seattle and everywhere you look there are nut balls walking the streets, homeless or drugged out and there they are. Everybody just looks at them, the city, clearly overlooks them. This IS NOT liberalism, folks, this is indifference. It's not cool to have a place called skid row (road, actually) and have lots of people on the skids living there, still. People turn a blind eye to these things. This is one of the reasons, the major reason actually, I had to stop teaching. Kids suffering, not getting what they need, because those in charge want to maintain the status quo and continue to get paid their fat bonus checks and salaries...I can't take it. It makes me sick and angry. Here in this place, there is an area where all the homeless people kick it (they are all over actually but especially concentrated in the Skid Row area, which most Seattlites know as the area in and around Pioneer Square and Yesler Way specifically) and another area, the U-District, where all of the homeless kids hang out. I saw in a bookstore window that someone had published a book of photos of these children. What?!? They need homes and services and food and drug rehabilitation, not their pictures taken. Believe me I know that issues surrounding homelessness and drug addiction are multi-tiered, but they need to be addressed. It is disgusting that we live this way in the 'free' world. Even moreso, when I realized that we're pumping cash into a useless space program and, God, I don't even want to go further with this...

Anyway, you may wonder what I did after seeing the crack-smoking children at the bus stop. Well, I got up and let the bus driver know and then, I called the police, because while I have a huge problem with the po-po, I have an even bigger problem with kids or anyone else, for that matter, smoking crack at a bus stop in broad daylight.

Now, I've seen some shit, but never anything that bold even in Englewood on Chicago's southside, the murder and drug capital of the city. Come on now. You will not smoke crack at the bus stop.

Devil dogs, crazy cats, and surly bunnies

I have this thing about funny animal stories, talking animals, etc. they always make me laugh. So, I am linking to this site: Golden State

because I think the picture of the pomeranian is hilarious. Why? I don't know exactly, but everytime I see it, I laugh hysterically. By the way, the blog is good too...

I found this awhile back on Craig's List and sent it to all of my friends. Again, hilarious to me. I don't know why, but here it is...

Wacky animals. They can either tug on your heart strings or be the very bane of your existence. Either way, they are often good for a laugh. Even the annoying cats I am watching make me laugh, sometimes, after I have cleaned up the poop that the fat one (25 pounds and hey, how does a cat balloon to 25 pounds anyway? I mean seriously, stop the madness. I always say fat kids and fat animals are always the fault of the parents/owners) seems to shoot over the edge of the litterbox everyday and the hair balls that the skinny, surly one seems to be plagued with and spits all over the place. Whoever said cats were clean and low maintenance lied. Eeew.

If they were mine, they wouldn't be this way. They'd suck it up and take baths and they certainly wouldn't weigh 25 pounds. They'd more than likely be surly, though. My bunny is. But, that's good, we give each other space and she certainly doesn't shoot her little poops onto the floor over the side of her litterbox. That only happens when I don't clean it out for a week and a half or something.

Anyway, I am rambling. I'll end it here.

Reality in large doses

On my way to work I thought about a former friend who is the female incarnation of my ex. I'd known her for about 8 years and for a while, we didn't talk, because I pushed her out of my life, but she returned apologetically and I let her back in. The reason I pushed her out then and gave her the heave-ho before moving to Seattle is that everytime we were together, it ended in an argument and I always had the feeling that she held hostility towards me. I didn't think there was competition, because we were equals in terms of ability, intelligence, etc. so, I never really thought that was the issue. But there was always something and she always started arguments and was really nasty. She always cracked jokes and tried to make me the butt of them, but there was always a sharp, seriousness to them that made me believe that secretly she really hated me or at least didn't like me too much. So, just before I moved here, I let go of her. She started this huge argument during a two-day stay at her house and I said, to myself, hey, that's it. I can't do this anymore. She never apologized and I'm sure just assumed that everything was the same.

Now, this is what my ex did when I first came to visit him upon returning from France. He hurt me deeply by lashing out at me and refusing, on my final day in Seattle to spend time with me after he had promised. He wasn't feeling well, it turned out, but instead of making clear exactly how sick he was, he was mean and didn't stand up as a man to tell me A) he just didn't feel well enough or B) he just didn't want to spend time with me. As I look back, I think that he, as was the case with my former friend, just didn't really like me. There is something there that maybe even he could not articulate if asked. I say this, because in both of these cases, there was more arguing, disagreeing, and withholding of affection on their parts than could be explained by anything else. So, I have accept the cold, hard truth, I guess.

It was over with my ex and I before I moved to Seattle. I was not over him but I was over all of the possibilities I had created for the two of us in my head, if that makes any sense. With my other, former friend, I knew it was over long ago.

These are all the right steps in the right direction, I am convinced. I'm just sad things had to happen this way. It wasn't necessary, they both could have just told me and I would have left them alone without all of the strife, you know?

Eyes on the prize

This was my horoscope today*:

Rachel, Within the struggles of your daily routines, there's enough that is new to keep you on your toes. There's a part of you that is nostalgic for the good old days. Oh, to be bored and comfortable, but this isn't in your cards now, Scorpios -- the future is on the way. Maintain your routines until the next adventure begins.

I am not ruled by these sorts of things, but this on is right on. As I have considered quitting my job until my real one starts in August. I am frustrated now, because I don't like wasting my time anymore, I feel, after all that's happened, that it is far too precious. I look back on the last 8 years or so of my life, as a teacher, a job I only really liked for about 3 years. I held on for another 3 because I was comfortable, unhappy, but that unhappiness was so familiar, like a security blanket that kept me safe. Then, I look back my ex, and I realize that I was focusing on the good in him, which is really only a small part of him. I didn't want to accept that someone I loved could be dishonest, lazy, trifling. He suffers from a painful lack of self-esteem and is incredibly threatened by everything about me. He is what the French call an arriviste, which is something like an opportunist, but connotes something a bit more negative and unsavory. In any case, I have very little respect for people like that, but I minimized that in him and really, IT'S WHO HE IS!! He is never willing to work hard for anything difficult, he will never try anything new that he is not absolutely sure he will be good at. I pity people like that. I am not like that, but...well, there are other cases, even with other people in my life and I can't go back. I can't start swimming back to the shore, I have to continue on to the other side. I started this whole journey to change my career, to make myself better, not to get stuck once again in the mire of a failed relationship with this man or in the dissatisfaction with a job, no matter how temporary. I can't waste anymore time.

So, my security blanket is gone and I am very uncomfortable these days, very frustrated, very unsure of the day-to-day of it all, but unwaveringly sure of the future. Thanks, Eunice, for your post, it also helped. Thanks, Sirlester, for your support and laughter and jokes. Thanks, Jesus, for being you and helping me stay grounded, focused, and realistic. Thanks, K.S., for forcing me to see that you are not at all what I thought. And thanks to me, for being a girl I can be proud of.

*horoscope from Tarot.com

About Me Too...

Borrowed this Nonvocabulum forgive me if I haven't named all others...

1. What is your occupation? I'm a lover not a fighter. Well, I'm a fighter when I have to be, but only with bitches, just ask K.S. & Mahalia &...Seriously, though, I am an aspiring journalist. I don't really know what I am right now.
2. What color is your underwear? Pink.
3. What are you listening to right now? Still on Worldwide Underground by Erykah Badu. Best of David Bowie too...
4. What was the last thing you ate? A handful of salted almonds and a glass of iced tea with a hint of lime.
5. Do you wish on stars? No, but maybe I should start.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Robin's Egg Blue
7. How is the weather right now? It's pleasant maybe 70 degrees. Low humidity. Seattle summers...mmmmm, so nice.
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My manager at work.
9. How old are you today? 34.
10. Favorite drink? Lemonade, freshly-squeezed; Iced tea.
11. Favorite sport to watch? Track and Field meets
12. Have you ever dyed your hair? Once. A coppery color with blond highlights.
13. Do you wear contacts or glasses? No
14. Pets? A rabbit.
15. Favorite month? October
16. Favorite food? Mexican, Soul food, Italian, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Algerian, Tunisian. I generally just like to throw down...
17. What was the last movie you watched? Mad Hot Ballroom. Cute kids. Makes me wish I could still be a teacher...
18. Favorite day of the year? Hmmm, don't really know.
19. What do you do to vent anger? I don't know. I guess I need to find something...I just realized I really don't do much. Wow. I have to get on top of that. Internalizing isn't good!!!
20. What was your favorite toy as a child? I don't think I had one.
21. Fall or Spring? Fall.
22. Hugs or kisses? Both! Only from certains. I don't like just anyone touching me...
23. Cherry or Blueberry? Cherry.
24. Living arrangements? Housesitting for the moment.
25. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday afternoon.
26. What is on the floor of your closet? Shoes, high-heels that I haven't worn since my former life as a hip career woman. Stuff to make collages, magazines with articles I like, books.
27. What did you do last night? Watched a little television, because it's been a while.
28. Favorite smell? Passage d'Enfer perfume.
29. What inspires you? My friend Jesus.
30. What are you afraid of? I'm not really afraid of anything anymore.
31. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Cheese. Spicy hamburgers, what?!?
32. Favorite car? VW convertible bugs (new ones).
33. Favorite dog breed? English Cocker Spaniel; Great Dane
34. Number of keys on your key ring? 6.
35. How many years at your current job? 1 month.
36. Favorite day of the week? Saturdays and Sundays, especially Sunday afternoons.
37. How many states have you lived in? 6. Ohio, Massachusetts, Illinois, New Hampshire, Indiana, Washington.
38. How many cities have you in? 8. Toledo, Boston, Chicago, Seattle, Encarnacion, Avignon, Copenhagen, Paris.

100 Things That Make Me Happy

I haven't felt like writing anything; I have been down. I am no longer the sunny girl who returned from France a few short months ago, she is lost right now. Confusion, uncertainty, and loneliness have ruled in recent days. I had a revelation today but I'm not sure that I'm ready or willing to share that here. But, I also realized that I only seem to think about things that make me sad, or angry, or dissatisfied (it's like I'm French or something). So many of us do that, not even realizing it. When it hit me, I saw that this could be a way to take one day at a time, so, I decided that I would only think about things that make me happy. I decided that I would create a mental list of things that I like, things that make me smile. AND, it worked. For about 2 hours I walked around, ran some errands and thought of the things that make me happy. Now as I sit, I see even further evidence, because a smile has settled on my lips where a frown seemed permenently etched a few hours ago. So I'll have a reminder in the days ahead, I'll put these things into words, tangible things, that I can see it in front of me any time I need a lift. Maybe I'l even make a painting or collage of them.

I may not finish it all in one sitting and it's in no particular order, but here goes...

100 Things That Make Me Happy

1. the taste of lemons
2. babies giggling
3. getting my first summer 'tan'
4. the song "My Favorite Things" as sung by Diana Ross and as interpreted by John Coltrane
5. walking in the summer sun, having the warmth hit my face and shoulders, then unexpectedly passing through a cool, shady spot and vice versa
6. eating sweet, cold watermelon
7. eating sweet, cold canteloupe
8. the crisp, snap of the darkest, sweetest, summer cherries
9. beautiful, brown skin, the lightest, the darkest and all shades in between
10. reading books by Louise Erdrich
11. looking at old photographs with my family
12. drinking really cold water when I'm really thirsty
13. seahorses
14. watching bees at work
15. beautiful, rugged landscapes
16. being in the mountains
17. hearing my grandmother say old, country things like: "...you get 'em for a song" or "...he found a bird's nest on the ground" or "you're yet in the backyard with them chillun'?"
18. snow. lots of undisturbed, beautiful snow, blanketing every inch of outside
19. the quiet stillness it brings
20. solitude
21. being with someone I adore
22. having ham, sweet potatoes, biscuits, and greens for sunday dinner. apart is great, but all together is most wonderful
23. seeing little girls double-dutch
24. hearing little kids laugh and play during the summer time
25. sitting on the porch at my grandmother's house
26. getting compliments from nice, old men
27. getting compliments from other women
28. seeing ethnic kids who know about themselves and have been taught to be proud and strong
29. talking to gifted or beautiful people who are slightly self-deprecating, it's so refreshing
30. dogs
31. my bunny, Lily
32. sleeping late or lying in bed on rainy days and hearing the tap-tap-tap of raindrops hitting the windowpane
33. house music. 1980s Chicago-style, loud and thumping through my body, driving me to dance.
34. the smell of Bois Ciré candles from Diptyque
35. pictures you develop that turn out to be unexpectedly good
36. watching people open presents I've given them that make them happy
37. Pere Lachaise cemetery
38. boat rides
39. Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, France
40. taking driving trips in the heat and sun of summer, windows down, music blaring from the radio and singing along, of course
41. singing in Spanish and Portuguese
42. the word Tunisia
43. the smell of extra virgin olive oil
44. boys I love getting me glasses of water before bed
45. The Isley Brothers
46. having the courage to throw myself into the unknown
47. having loved someone with every ounce of my being
48. my friend Jesus
49. meeting girls and finding out that they're really goofy. funny, goofy, I mean
50. having someone who has wronged me have the courage to tell me so
51. being able to let go of them even if they don't
52. when what comes around goes around
53. cake
54. flowers
55. books
56. riding my bike
57. an old school hip-hop mix I have that includes "It Takes Two", "A Children's Story", "Cha
Cha Cha", "Treat 'Em Right", "I Got It Made" and "Don't Sweat the Technique" all on one tape
58. childhood memories of cleaning the house with my mother while listening to WBMX all day
59. love bites on the back of my neck and shoulders
60. watching reruns of Designing Women
61. wild, thick, kinky hair
62. having people in my life who can build and create things
63. hazelnut ice cream
64. crepes filled with nutella and coconut
65. sex with someone I love
66. deep connections with people
67. fireplaces
68. lamb chops
69. Woodstock (from Peanuts)
70. happy kids
71. running into my former students and learning that they are doing well, or that they have
overcome the worst and landed on their feet
72. feeling free
73. being outside
74. thinking about my old high school/college friend Rob
75. the first two albums by The Sundays
76. listening to my Uncle Tyrone and my Uncle Sammy when they get on a roll --HILLARIOUS
78. being in Seattle
79. planning for my life in Paris
80. doing dances where you have to follow a boy's lead
81. good boys--young and old
82. tough girls
83. being the woman of my dreams--if I were a boy
84. girls with curvy bodies who are proud of them and boys who like girls with curvy bodies
85. I'm not afraid to know or tell the truth
86. I am fearless
87. I don't care if people like me
88. I am discerning
89. the view of the Eiffel Tower on the metro on line #6 between stops Bir-Hakeim and Dupleix
90. writing
91. the idea of becoming a journalist
92. the idea of becoming a mother some day
93. talking and laughing with my friend Sirlester
94. taking trips to new places
95. sleeping
96. being around people who have nothing to prove
97. childhood memories of barbeques with my family in my grandmother's backyard
98. having people drop in on me
99. spontaneity
100. the feel and smell of slipping between cool, clean sheets

Sigh...

So, I just picked up a check from a job I've been working more or less full time for the past 3 weeks. I've pretty much hated it and viewed it as a completely waste of time. I've been really surly there. It is the sort of place where the boss tells you to watch your time if you come back 2 minutes late from lunch. Speaking of lunch, you only get 30 minutes.

In the past week, I've resigned myself to all of it because it's only temporary, but now, after seeing the amount of my check, I am not only deeply offended, I can also feel a sort of contempt for the place. My first thought upon seeing the amount of this check was: 'Hey, I just wasted 52.75 hours of my life that I can never get back and I don't even have enough money to put down for the deposit on an apartment at the end of the month.' So, I'm pissed, basically. And I am faced with a dilemma because I will have to move again soon.

The thing is, when I really think about it all, I cannot complain. I chose, just over a year ago to change everything. To sell everything, to move, to leave my comfortable (materially-speaking), relatively well-paid lifestyle. I now have to see it through. Those Diptyque candles and Molton Brown lip balms are nothing but a distant memory right now... Everything is moving quickly and I have to think fast right now. There is no time to sit and think because it is just me. I am making things happen or not...I can blame no one (well, I can blame a couple of people for this situation, truthfully, but I won't because what good would it do in the end?). So, I just have to figure it out.

I wish someone would do it for me though, just once. Just this once...

Paris est une blonde....

I have started to plan out my return to Paris, because I have to be there.

My ex would love that, if he knew, because the day he threw me out of his house with 2 suitcases, 2 other big pieces of luggage, 1 box full of books, 2 bags of groceries i'd just purchased minus the things he had opened and began eating, and no money, oh yes and no where to go, just before that he came into the bedroom and said "Why don't you go back to Chicago?" and I thought to myself, "Why don't you go back to Chicago, bitch?" But I didn't say it out loud, because there might have been a fist fight, I was truly ready to steal off of him; I was that angry and he is that much of a bitch. One of us probably wouldn't have gone to jail. Anyway, He doesn't want me in the same city. Strange, I guess the guilt is too strong and might show with whoever he is attempting to screw or go out with now to erase the memory of me instead of just dealing with it. The prospect of being a real man is so scary to him, so scary to so many of them really. At first they have a hard time figuring out what it means to be a man (and so do some of us) fortunately, I've been aware of what it takes since I was very young. I haven't found it yet. Wait, I've known one, no two. One I didn't meet him first and the other likes boys, so they're both off the market. Wait, three, the third is one of my close friends and it's just not going down between us... All of the rest of them have all been bitch-ass tricks...

Just so you know, boys, being a man isn't about how much money you make or your car or your clothes or that your preferred sport is football as opposed to ice skating or sychronized swimming. Being a man is also not about fighting, controlling 'your woman', treating women like property and/or whores to be used and disposed of on a whim, drinking too much, soliciting prostitutes, making babies and either leaving them or ignoring them, or having sex with people just because you can. On the other hand, it is also not, for all of you sensitive men, about saying you understand women's needs, or gazing intently into her eyes while having a conversation with her, or speaking in a hushed voice, or saying things like "be well..." (EVERYONE STOP THAT, BY THE WAY, MEN AND WOMEN ALIKE). Just because you can cry doesn't make you a man, sensitive men, depending on why you're crying and the frequency of it, it really just makes you a bitch. Don't be fooled ladies, the sensitive men, are the worst, because they often think they know, that they've become men now that they pick up and thumb through the occasional issue of O Magazine or that they drink wine instead of doing shots or chugging beer. They are usually passive-aggressive milque-toasts.

So, what is being a man all about? For me, for most women, I think, it's really about a person's humanity. It's about taking responsibility and not being afraid. It's about being a good and decent human being who owns his triumphs and his mistakes. This is not about someone who just pays lip service to the concepts of responsibility and accountability. A man is someone who does what he has to do to protect and take care of his family and those close to him, not just himself. He does sacrifice, he does give of himself, and he is open. He stops and takes the time to figure out what he wants and how to get it and then acts. But if he doesn't get what he wants or encounters adversity or failure, he does not blame, run, or abuse. If he cries, it's not for show or to prove something, or because he is a bitch who is trying to manipulate, like most of his sensitive brethren. He is not without faults, but he recognizes them in himself and checks himself accordingly, again he does not blame or lie, or distance himself in embarrassment and if any of this does occur HE OWNS HIS MISTAKES.

This is no different than what it takes to be a woman. As I've said all of this is about humanity. Real men, real women, are people dedicated to being the best human beings they can be. Some are born this way others learn and take the next step, others like my ex, know, but stay right where they are. They take the long way home from school to avoid what they perceive to be life's bullies, avoiding the painful journey to manhood because they think the way around it is somehow easier and less painful. In the end, boys, it's not. What's better, facing up to life or spending the rest of your life in a darkened room filled with regret and cigarette smoke, watching porn, banging prostitutes and other unsavories, and watching stupid shit on television?

This did not turn out to be about Paris, I meant it to be....

What's really goin' on...

This actually started out as a reply to a comment to my new blog-friend, Eunice...but now, it's taken on a life of it's own. I said before there might be a few of these journal-ly joints...That was never my intention at the outset of this blog, but like I said, life is strange. And by the way, my friend is NOT in love...I was told emphatically...

Because, I am new in town and have no friends except the two cats I am watching right now, by the way, cats are really weird!! I've never had them and while I have developed an appreciation for them, they're still strange creatures...

Anyway as I said, I've been thinking about this dream a bit more and I've determined that it's really about what I am and am not willing to accept now. In the past, everything that he did or said to me I accepted and, kind of tried to fix. Not in the sense that I tried to change him or take on his problems, but more that I tried to understand his issues and talk to him and be there. I think I may have tried to 'fix' things for myself so that I could make him be something other than what he is within myself. The thing is I never forced him to do anything or tried to control a situation, because really how can you force a grown man or anybody, for that matter, to do anything. It was more that I tried to keep myself from drowning in him, losing me in him, and it happened once, the first time around. So, I've always been aware. Aware, but not ready. I held on to him, there was always the specter of him. Because, c'etait vraiment le coup de foudre avec lui, c'est vrai. Vous pouvez lui demandez, il va vous dire. Il ne peut pas le nier...

I still loved him and let him be in my universe regardless of what he had done. AND that was my issue. He has this phenomenal side to him: so smart and creative, so talented. I can't stress how intelligent he is, and I've always loved that. I'm mature enough, after everything, to be able to say that. But I know now that the cold, vindictive, mean, cruel side of him is just that, a side of him, a part of him and not just a function of adverse circumstances as I believed before. It was never that I felt sorry for him, or that I wanted to be his caretaker because he has issues or he swayed my opinion or controlled me. God, if he'd been able to do that, we'd probably be married with kids somewhere, because that's a big part of what he wants in a woman, I think. When I think about that I know I'd be an abused wreck, but that's another story... Anyway, I'm seeing how much this is about my issues now. Not that I take any of the onus off of him, he definitely can call a huge part of this all his own. But I am thinking about me now...

My own issues had me thinking that somehow, family, friends, and lovers could treat you badly and you had to accept it. I have only known situations where people ran hot & cold, where I was taken for granted, or underappreciated and at times envied. In sharing this, I am not expecting pity or sympathy I am simply providing the context, my context. I accepted this sort of treatment from a young age, because it is all I have ever known. I knew it wasn't quite right, but I believed for a long time that some people just treated you badly and if you love them you have to accept it. In fact, that's what I was taught, more or less. I thought I was just doomed to a life of emotional unfulfillment and that I had to take what I could get.

I have begun to see recently that I was holding onto my ex for that reason. Because he is the ONE (and I do believe that), because maybe I have known him in another life, I was holding on, waiting, hoping, without even realizing it. I wanted someone to give me what I needed so much and I wanted more than anything for it to be him.

He could not. He cannot. He will never be able. I'm not sure that he ever even wanted to. That's what he has been trying to tell me all of these years.

but...

I just didn't want to listen.

Human waste

One of my friends told me she is in love...

Life is crazy. Not because my friend is in love. Not because I'm not anymore. It just is. I was overtaken by melancholy yesterday. There's so much to do. Where do I start? "Just take one day at a time..." he said. That seems like eons ago. How does one do that exactly? Take one day at a time? Any suggestions?

I had a dream about a week ago. It is one of only two that I have had as an adult that I have remembered. Both included my ex... This dream took place in a bathroom, that I believe was at his house because the bathtub was the same, although the room itself was a bit different. Anyway, we were sitting on the couch talking and he said he had to go to the bathroom. He got up and left. When he returned a few minutes later, I went to the bathroom and for some reason felt compelled to pull back the shower curtain. When I did, I saw that my ex had left a big pile of shit behind. And by big, I mean a huge, tall pile of shit, maybe 2 or 3 feet tall... There was also a lot of runny shit on the floor of the tub. I began to try rinsing the runny variety out of the tub and it came clean, easily rinsing away and flowing down the drain, but there was still the big tall pile, so I looked at it, stopped rinsing, and called my ex into the bathroom. I remember asking him -thoroughly disguted by the whole scenario- what was wrong with him and why he would shit in the bathtub like that and just leave it? He looked at me, ashamed, and in silence, knelt down at the side of the tub, turned on the water, and began cleaning away the big pile of shit. But, I didn't watch or wait until he finished, I just left the bathroom and then I woke up....

Strange dream. Strangely prophetic, maybe? Does it mean that I am finitely over things more than I had originally thought? Or could it mean that this troubled man is ingrained in my subconcious...will he stay there forever? I'm a little afraid of that.

Blog Tag

I'm finally up and running here...So the game continues...

Thanks Eunice, there is no harm in 'borrowing' an idea...where would our world be without it?

1. Adventures of a Domestic Engineer
2. Crazy Like A Zircon
3. Yeah, I'm A Cat
4. As Life Flutters By...
5. The New Girl In Town

As for my favorite childhood memories, I really, honestly can't remember back that far. So instead, if I may, I'd like to present a twist, a list of 10 things people would never know just by looking at me, to help you get to know me better, blog friends...

1. My favorite television show is King of Queens

2. My favorite vacation ever has been a tour of some of the fjords and cities of Norway's southwestern coast. It was really the most beautiful place. It was a tour called Norway in a Nutshell (a little touristy, but so so nice!!). Everyone should do it.

3. If I could live anywhere it would be in Paris, in the 11th arrondissement in an apartment overlooking the Pere Lachaise cemetery. Really, the most beautiful place in Paris. Skip Mr. Morrisson however, not too interesting, and really, I'm not just saying that because The Doors make me cringe...

4. When I was little, my mother had to stop giving me costume birthday parties --I was born on Halloween-- because I would get scared and cry and scream because of the masks people were wearing--Even after they took them off. I have a succession of birthday party pictures with me standing before a cake either looking horrified with tears streaming down my face or with me screaming in terror, mouth wide open.

5. When I was 16, I got chastised(and almost arrested) by the Paraguayan military police during the Stroessner regime, because I unknowingly tried to take a picture of a huge statue of the dictator.

6. If I ever choose to go back to school again, which I seriously doubt will ever happen, it will be to get a Ph.D. in African-American studies.

7. I am currently obsessed with learning as much about bees and Algerian pastries as I possibly can.

8. I am trying to learn Portuguese (Brazilian) so that I can sing jazz and Bossa Nova.

...Okay, so maybe that's only 8 things, but that's enough, don't you all think?

La colère algerienne

Sounds like something by Camus, maybe even Duras. Good title for a book. I've been thinking of them lately. Although I don't know if I want to write a book....

Here is a poem: Anger

Forever isn't what it used to be, or is it?

I'm sure someone was eating pot roast on the bus this morning. The smell was unmistakable. What else could smell like that? It smelled like pot roast straight from the oven....But, the question is, who would eat pot roast on the bus? I know I shouldn't even ask that question....

Anyway, here I am. Hopefully nearing the end of these journal-ly type of posts. I am less venomous now, if only because I am completely empty inside. I saw my ex, I need to think of something better to call him...Trick, perhaps? No, ex will do, because I won't be writing much more about him again, ever. When I saw him, I felt nothing, not even contempt, it was like he wasn't even there. His existence didn't matter. His existence didn't register. I'm not sure what's worse, hating someone, or feeling nothing. I can actually answer that. For me, feeling nothing is worse. It means that someone doesn't matter to me anymore and that they will soon slip from my memory, as if they never existed. I am sure that in the days to come this will make me sad. After all, he was my 'home'. He was the one I wanted in my life forever. It's hard to accept that there is nothing in me for him, that he could put me at risk....I guess, foolishly I thought that no matter what happened between us, we could put those differences aside, and still be there for each other when it really counted. I thought that we were friends. I was wrong. That's what hurt the most. But it doesn't anymore, it's over. No more of this....forever.

Today...(revisited)

Today I am angry.

This is the first real chance I have had to sit and think and write, not in private, of course. But, it's better for me than not doing it at all.

But, I am angry. There are many reasons, but first, I am angry that I have let someone so weak and emotionally-retarded make me angry. Then I am angry that I gave myself (and was ready to give even more) to him. I don't regret having loved my ex, and I did with everything. When I realized I loved him, I cried and cried because I couldn't be with him at that exact moment. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe normally, I had this crazy nervous feeling all of the time. And then, when I finally saw him, everything was okay....It felt like home. But only for a little while. He didn't like that, me being happy, him being happy, us being happy together. Maybe if I had been a prostitute or something, he would have preferred it.

Anyway, I don't regret that I loved him, I regret that I didn't see...I didn't see him for what he really is. And, as I said, I'm angry. I'm angry that he never told the truth and that he played games with me. That he took advantage, for the second time, of my love for him and what that meant, and that he used things against me that he knew would hurt the most, and that he lied. I'm angry that he took from me and never gave and then blamed my gifts (of love and tenderness) for the demise of whatever it was that existed between us.

And for more than any other reason, I am angry now because he has made me hate him. He has taken the beauty of what I had to give, thrown it at my feet and trampled on it. He has behaved as though I am nothing. As though my respect, my admiration, my love was nothing. I am angry that I let him. I am angry that I've cried and that my eyes fill with tears as I write this....

And now, I hate him. I never wanted to; I tried so hard not to. I know that it is wrong, I believe that it is wrong, to hate anyone, that is. But, I do. I hate him.

Meu nome é Rachel...

Today, in spite of all of the craziness, the homelessness, and the venom I'm feeling right now, I forced myself to go to my first Portuguese lesson. I have always wanted to learn, I think that it is the most beautiful language. So sensual, so fluid, so....mmmm, I don't know. I just love it. I can't wait for the day that it flows freely from my tongue.....

My fantasy is to someday sing Jazz or Bossa Nova in Portuguese. I think the timbre of my voice (if that's the correct term) would be perfect for the Brazilian style of singing. Of course, I have to learn the language first. I'm very excited about it. It was a bright spot.

One of my favorite days....

Happy Birthday, Jesus!!!!

Today....

It was not easy, today. I'm not sure why, I think everything is coming to a head, all of the changes the crises, the joys, the pain of the last year. I am tired. I may have said this before. I want to curl up and take a nap, but there's just not time for that right now. Soon....

I want someone to be nice to me unconditionally. People always think I don't need that for some reason. I want someone to see that I do need that and then, miracle of all miracles, do it. Yes, there are violins playing in the background as I write this....Today is just one of those days....

Anyway, In the midst of this fairly emotionally-charged haze I am walking around in, I found myself engaged in a conversation about love, soul mates, lust, pornography, depravity....Huge, I know. Please don't ask me how we managed to cover all of that and more. But, when I think about it, these topics occupy both ends of the same spectrum and it's really not so broad.

One person asked us all if we had ever found our soul mate. I had to think, because, as I may have mentioned previously, I have never necessarily believed in this concept. But when I did consider it all, the events surrounding my boy, who is no longer my boy, I came to the conclusion, that, in fact, he, despite the craziness of our relationship, is my soul mate. This person, with whom I was speaking today suggested that the person who makes "you feel like home..." is your soul mate. Hmmm, what a nice thought.

Something that recently hit me like a ton of bricks is that just because you love someone (and maybe they love you), just because you are connected to someone, just because they may be your soul mate, it doesn't mean you will be with them. None of that is a guarantee. Which may not be so sad after all, maybe it can ultimately provide a sense of peace. Knowing that there is the 'other half' of you out there, and I don't mean this in a whiny, overly romantic, 16 year-old sort of way. It also does not mean that you or they will be ready or able to be with each other or even good for each other. I knew all of this but, knowing something and living something are two vastly different things....

More life lessons, enough already....

So, I trudge on through the rest of this day, realizing that I need to make more money so that I can finally get my own apartment, that I need to call my grandmother , that I need to have more contact with my parents, that I need to pay some bills because they are late, that I need to find a yoga class, that I need to write something to try and get it published, and that I need to sleep. Right now this list seems never-ending. Everything swirling 'round and 'round in my head. "Just take one day at a time..." my boy told me not so long ago, when he was still my boy.

There is a misty rain now, all of a sudden. Seattle. But, I have to pick myself up and go out into it, go home, read more, write more, take the next step.

Inshallah!!

Dare I say am enjoying life?

Despite being broke and effectively homeless, I feel good. Inshallah!!* I'm not sure I've ever been able to say that. Even when those around me are not, I see clearly and I am even, GULP, optimistic about the future. That's not like me.

For the last year or so, life has been chaotic, or at least that's what most would say from the outside looking in. When all of it started, I set out with a very specific plan to find the place where I belong. It has taken 9 months, my life savings, the disintegration of a relationship I'd built up in my head for years, and a trip almost half way around the world, but I am good...able to smile frequently, laugh easily, and believe there are possibilities....

No one has understood why. Certains** close to me have commented on what they consider my immaturity, my naivete, my lack of focus, and even my selfishness. I have found that when you cease to fit into the role you have traditionally played in the lives of others, it ususually doesn't sit well with them. You end up forcing change, a new way of being, on people who never intended it. Today, the cutest cab driver (Orange Cab in the house) asked me if I was a trouble maker. I told him it depends on who you ask. Ain't that the truth.

That's not my intention of course. I once came across a horoscope that something like:

"You live too aggressively and love too obssessively
and you always demand the impossible. That's the glory and
the terror of being you. Don't ever change, babe..."

This is true. Although I've tried in the past to suppress this particular way of being in the world, to no avail. It went on to say:

"...there may come a time when living too aggressively and loving too obssessively
will be just the right amount and demanding the impossible will make
perfect sense. On that strange and happy day you will achieve all that you thought
would secretly elude you forever, think you can handle that much success?"

I saved that one. (find more horoscopes like it here)

I am wondering if that time is coming now. I am beginning to see that while I haven't gotten what I wanted, I've gotten what I needed. That is really the trick, recognizing that at any given moment, you are where you're supposed to be, even if it seems wrong or painful or depressing. Everything happens for a reason and is part of what you need. In the end, on a deeper level, what you need can also become what you want, if you let it....inshallah....


*It is also not my intention to offend or diminish the importance of this phrase/concept by using it here. But I began to say it in France, where Arabic and Muslim expressions, words, phrases are creeping into French popular culture much like, Black culture has come to dominate populare culture in the United States. People use Inshallah quite a bit , Muslims & non-Muslims alike, not always in a religious context, I noticed. It's the perfect phrase to express a sentiment of something that will happen in the future that you have very little control over. It kind of like something my grandmother and other people from the South always say: "God willing and the creek don't rise..." but not quite, it's hard to translate. I find myself saying or thinking it here (in English) sometimes....

**The people (family members and friends) I'm referring to here happen to be all of the things they accuse me of being, strangely enough.

For art's sake...

I am beginning to see myself as a writer, feel like an artist -- although I think writing is more of a craft than an art -- more than ever before. It is good. I am feeling better about everything despite all of the changes in my life. I regret nothing of the last year, not even leaving Paris. But, I feel the need to return there and I will. It is the only place that I've felt, for a long time, that I really belonged. Being there was an amazing struggle, but I feel like she (Paris) was preparing me for her (I think Paris is a chick, a Scorpio chick). I know that places have astrological signs, like Norway and Algeria are linked to the sign of Scorpio and I want to say New Orleans too, I'll have to look that up. I don't think Paris is actually linked to the sign of Scorpio, but I'd like to think she's like me...but I'm getting way off topic here.

For the first time this week, my writing got me into real trouble, so I was thinking that maybe now I have the right to begin calling myself a writer or a journalist. I know it will take so much more. But maybe I can call myself an artist, it's just waiting to come out. So much inside waiting to come out through words, images, etc...I don't say teacher anymore, though, when someone asks me.

What happens when people don't do the things that make them whole and feel like they are really living? I don't mean professionally, although sometimes the two -- your heart's desire and your professional life -- meet and I am imagining that there could be nothing better. But what I'm saying is, what happens when an artist doesn't do his art or a cyclist does ride his bike or a born teacher doesn't teach? When I had money, I bought lots of greeting cards, I had a big box full of them for every occasion and I found one once that said: "Do what you love and the money will follow, do what you hate and be like the rest of us." It was a quote made by a waitress in Florida. She is a font of wisdom, don't you think? I think about that a lot lately, especially after this week. Fortunately I am able to do this. Some people cannot. I am not naive in realizing just how fortunate I am...

I love writing, I need to now. What if I was still standing in front of a classroom in Chicago? What if Paris was still a dream? What if Seattle was not in my life now? What if I was not writing? I ask again:

What happens when people don't do the things that make them whole and feel like they are really living?