News
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Well, I’ve kind of settled into living at home. Granted I’ve not
unpacked or got all my stuff out the cars, I’m doing fine. I started looking
for jobs the Monday I got back, but I’ve not applied for any as of yet.
Also, I’ve made a list of possible grad schools I want to attend. I need
to write up profiles for each and contact them all to tell them of my interest.
In my personal life, I’ve secured my status as a single woman. I wrote
my ex a brutally honest letter about his manhood (or lack of it). If anybody
wants to read it I’ll be happy to send it. I’ve tried not to be
a hateful ex-girlfriend, but I’m so temped to make a BP page in his honor
(you know it would take me all of 25 minutes to finish it) just so I can post
the letter and a picture beside it. Yesterday, I saw “Troy” and
“The last Samurai” both were actually very good. On the home front,
life has been quiet if you don’t count my parents acting a fool every
few days. I think they are both crazy because their current reasons for a divorce
are clearly unfounded. Between murder plots and tales of infidelity, I’m
beginning to feel like I’m stuck in a horrible black romance novel. To
make matters worse, my godparents are having their own brand of marriage problems
and bringing it over to my house. First my Godfather wakes me up in the morning
knocking like the cops and giving me a headache; then his crazy ass wife was
ringing my doorbell at 1 am like a nut. My parents were friendly to my godfather
(and brother), but my father promptly cursed my godmother out and slammed the
door in her face (mind you that she started cursing him out first). Now, other
than the cops (who won’t hesitate to knock my door down) and my friends,
I’m not answering the door for no one, there are too many psychos out
there (and some of them know where I live). Finally, the last thing I wanted
to say about myself is I’m mad I went to the doctor (who has known me
since I was about 5 years old) and he told me he couldn’t write me anymore
prescriptions because he knows nothing about me. Had nerve to ask me who was
my main doctor (he should have realized it had to be him if I was desperate
enough to come to his raggedy office). I thought back and he has been my main
doctor for the last two years, but I guess he never noticed. He also told me
he had no records on me meaning he lost them somewhere because I used to see
him a lot. I don’t think I’m even bothering to send my current records
to him because he’s lost my mother’s records more than once.
Updates
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So far, I’m writing the Queen of Dream (a story that’s kind of like
“Mondays”), I’ve updated and finished my poem “Ravens”
at least for now. I’ve put myself on reading restrictions until I finish
that first story or some story. I’ve been thinking of a novel and I realize
my plan was lacking outer conflicts. Right now, I have the words to the prologue
and first chapter (parts of the second) in my head waiting to be typed down;
or rather the characters are talking in my head and getting restless. Meanwhile,
my mother is bugging me to write another Baptista story (which I’ll insert
for those who never read it). Thank God Baptista a quiet and patient character,
so there are not too many ideas and storylines running through my mind. As a
self improvement tool, I also brought a book on self editing (no…not editing
my language) for fiction writers.
Shout Outs
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First, I wanted to say Happy Birthday to Ebony! (who has already heard it on
her birthday) I also wanted to give birthday wishes to Allison, Doe, Felicia
and all the rest of the Gemini’s (if I missed any let me know) I’m
not sure of the dates, but if you want to tell me, please inform me because
birthdays are important to me. Also wanted to say I miss everyone dearly, but
I’ve not cried about it yet. Big shout out to my IPI sisters and roomies
of room 111. I miss walking by the room on my way in. Also, I get seriously
misty eyed every time I look at that journal I got as a gift. I brought a beautiful
pen to match it the other day. I promise I’ll write in it when I decide
what to grace its beautiful pages with.
My Writings
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This edition is a bit of the old and new. Poems :“Clover,” and “Ravens”
Story :”Girasols” and “Little Shoe”
By the way, Clover is about my friend Antoinette. I was meaning to mention that I just forgot.
Clover
You are my 4 leaf clover
You out strut all the rest
Swaying to your secret tune
Fashioned in shamrock glamorous
You don’t listen to the wind’s whispers
You’re best friends with the sun
You cultivate your own pollination
You redefine fun.
Ravens
Cupped hands cuddle a bruised cheek
A girl’s soul weary from reviewing her mother get beat
Sensing lines drawn from scars tattooed in
Raised believing men are lovers not friends
Cracked mirror kisses crimson lips…spilt
Aching eyes stare frozen from raccoon skin
But all mother inculcates is forgiveness
Love overshadows all, or so it seems
Instinctually, mommy relaxes in the arms of the enemy
Our, your, god, step, father, her boyfriend, uncle, man
Mama said Pain is love
And so it is
Afraid of walking away from his love
Or one day losing your life
Because you half savor darkness in his eyes
And rough hands holding you down
Poisoning you with half-lies and dark desires
Mornings with his name tattoo across your face
And in veiled places you silently feel
Insides quivers because you realize you’re HIS
Distantly you feel your son’s painful tears
And shame makes you push away from him
Looking for a father in your line of men
Passing through only to notice he’s so thin
His father’s eyes darken with anger
With pouting lips you gave him
Speaking words you didn’t know he knew
Mother to son, “I love you.”
In flash, you lose him to the world
Plex-glassed in the agonizing cycle to begin again.
Girasols
My name is Baptista, not spoken out loud, but whispered like the end of a prayer.
I live out where the trees vanish and the high grass dances to the beat of the
wind. This is our second move since spring. Mama says this place is better than
the others, but I feel doubtful as I look across the horizon and see nothing
but muted shades of blue, white, and brown.
I am watching my tios, Carlos and Juan, pull weeds from my mother’s small,
but beautiful garden on the side of the house. I crouch to look closer at the
uprooted weeds behind them.
“Qué míras pequeña girasol?” my uncle Carlos
says. I pause as I try to interpret with my rusty Spanish.
“What does ‘girasol’ mean?” I asked standing up as I
shade my eyes from the sun.
“They are those,” he said pointing to a row of tall, yellow flowers
that looked gangly and uncertain like those older boys I see standing outside
of the bodegas.
“Sunflowers are ugly,” I said frowning.
Uncle Carlos turned around and put his arm around my shoulders. “You should
not look so deeply into its appearances. Girasols are stronger than they look.
And they will one day be fruitful, just like you will one day be fruitful,”
he said.
I looked up at the sunflowers and then down at the flowers around them. They
seem battered, but not beaten as they stretched towards the sun against all
odds. I turned towards my uncle and hugged him.
“Are you fruitful?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t pull out all my weeds.”
~fin~
Little Shoe
All that was left was one little black shoe. In the other room, I heard mother
weeping, for her lost child. The one who left the shiny black shoe without its
mate. The weeping shook the walls as if the noise would snatch her missing child
out of his hiding place. But no pit or patting came, no missing little boy.
His name was Eric; he was my little brother. What became of brother, I don’t know, but uncle Jeff said wolves took him and would take me too, if I wasn’t good. After that, I became aware of the wolves, like I Eric did before he disappeared. I was next, they told me. Fighting was back was useless, as spat in their faces and ran from them. They seemed to come from everywhere after I enraged them. They would call my house and howl at me. They would creep into my yard and claw at my door as my mother tried to scare them away with threats. She reminded them they already ate Eric, they couldn’t have her only remaining child.
However, they got to me anyway and took me to their lair where they gave me their offerings. I refuse them and hid where they couldn’t reach me. Then I heard it. I heard the crying. It was a high pitch weeping that stopped my ranting and demanded me to listen to it. It was Eric and he was calling my name and begging me to stop this madness. Madness? I wondered what they had to my brother to say that to me. How had they turned him against his own sister? He reached out to me and I saw his tiny claws trying to get to me. I screamed at the top of lungs and all movement ceased. Life drained down to their heavy breaths and grunts, their mouths were wet with drool. That was when I noticed the wariness in their eyes. Was I the last chance for these staving beasts? It seemed so as offered more gifts to me. Why didn’t they eat me? I wondered because it made no sense to me.
I asked Eric wondering if he would even answer me now that he was one of them.
He told me, the leader of the pack was my father, and that if they were wolves,
so was I. I shook my head in denial, until I looked down and saw my blood stained
claws. I howled.
~fin~
End Notes
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I hope I brightened your week with this. If you have any comments, complaints,
or complements, please e-mail me back. I need a little bit of all three if I
can get it. Another thing, I almost forgot it that I finally got my phone cut
back on, which is helpful because I’m often on-line blocking anyone from
calling my home phone number (which I will supply below). I’m not going
to say I’m lonely, but I would be more than happy to hear from you. If
you know anyone who you wanted me to send this to, send their e-mail address
(I’m missing quite a few people I wanted to e-mail, but I don’t
have addresses to) and I’ll add them to the e-mail list. Also, I don’t
spam or send forwards (chain letter my ass…) at the most I’ll fill
your e-mail with my work. If that’s a problem let me know and I’ll
make this a link so you can view it without it being in your e-mail (which is
what will probably happen anyway). I’m going to try to keep this up sending
it out every two weeks (once a week if I ever get better organized). This took
a lot less time than I thought it would anyway (and that’s with me typing
with one hand while I take my cornrows out and stopping to eat lunch). Anyway,
here’s my contact list because I forgot to give it out before everyone
went home.