I don’t claim to know everything, but I do know that life is too short to be unhappy. It is too short to do things that bring you pain with absolutely no gain at the end. It is too short to worry about things that we have no immediate control of.
My girls and I definitely understand that concept immensely. Of course, this fact has become one of the staples of my life. “Be happy”.
Last night, I was planning to do what I’ve become quite accustomed to doing; and that is to take myself on a date. I take myself out for several reasons:
1. I enjoy my own company. I like to just be at peace, doing my own thing. It also has been instrumental in helping me meet new people.
2. The person whom I’d been involved with, did not find many things that I liked important or interesting enough to go; and she also has a small child to which care options were not always available.
3. I am a free spirit. I can be laying in bed and be certain that I would be in the house for the night; and then something may strike me that says “Liz, let’s get out of the house” and when that happens I go. Rarely is anyone ever able to move to that beat and join me, so I move to my own groove and enjoy myself. Also, I don’t always think to invite people, because I am always moving so fast.
Anyway, so I was planning to take myself on a date, and a few text messages and calls later, I was reminded of my buddy’s 30th birthday, and that we promised to show her a nice night. Additionally, another friend was planning to be in the same spot before she visited a dreaded establishment; so all was well in Liz-Land. I was on my way.
Before long, I was dressed in usual attire, which generally consists of um, jeans, a sweater or graphic tee, some bangles, HUGE earrings, some funky sandals or tennis shoes. I thought I looked pretty nice, and within no more than 8 minutes, I was at the spot.
Eventually one shiny face after another arrived. Everyone looked so beautiful and had their own style and part to play.
I was able to speak with one friend in particular about her goals, and the influence that art had on her life. I found myself completely drawn in to the conversation, as I had so desperately been longing for intellectual stimulation. She is in every fashion, a typical, yet extraordinary Libra.
Then the friend who would soon be celebrating her 30th birthday seemed to really be in peace as she downed her 2nd or 3rd drink, this one affectionately being named “blow job”. We all cheered her on to “suck-suck-suck”. I am laughing as a type this, but, behind every laugh, sometime resides a tear or two. This friend is smack dab in the middle of a separation, soon to be divorce, from her cheating and disrespectful husband and child’s father. Most recently, she’d rejoined the team and we needed her just as much as she needed us.
A few grapes later, we were all gelling, taking pictures, and laughing at the gentlemen who kept finding their way to where we were.
Of course the night would not be a true testimate to who we are, if the following didn’t happen:
Old fling, who was sometimes gay, then sometimes straight arrived. I greeted her with a huge and FAKE smile, unfortunately, this was all I had in my bag of tricks. That was my attempt to be cordial but to remind her that we had nothing to talk about. She was NOT with us, because either you are with us, or you are not!! “If you aint first, you last*laughing*
Big ugly face that used to date “Tia” (that’s what we’ll call her) brought his tired tail and his Ole-Down-By-The-Riverside looking new-boo, with her 84 year old name. *fail* (I even recall making a small spiritual hymn about her name).
Another friend kept attracting downright liars to the area. I heard one say he owned a gym and a basketball court, wth?? But his body was well, uh….moving on….
As time began to gallop, so did the noises from our stomachs. We were hungry and we wanted some, extra fat, please never change the grease, spicy wings, from “That Place”. Within about 20 minutes of deciding that we all wanted to go there, we were up and gone. I am serious; it was like a small army was answering to a silent, yet public call of attack.
Once we arrived at “That Place” and ordered our individual “heart attack meals of death and doom”; we sat, still trying to be cute, though there were just 10 people there and we accounted for 7 of those. Soon, the hood music was playing and my inner, yet well-known spirit came out.
Well, in addition to my hood spirit encouraging me to do all the dances in my head, was also a 41.5 year old woman who was pop-locking and dropping like a woman who had just exited jail, hell or hospice. She was doing the MOST. The girls attempted to emulate her dance moves as jokes, but Ms. Optimus Prime Face, saw this as a threat and began to “Serve” everyone with her “hits from the 90’s” dance moves and grooves. The girls soon realized that they were NO match her Queen Non-Dancliness….they accepted their fate and sat down, just in time to receive the grub.
Within minutes of getting the grub (hmmm, imagining that ever lingering smell of fried foods in my clothes now) the owner came out with 7 shot glasses.
*insert scary faces*
(Secret Prayer: Baby Jesus, please let this cup pass)-LITERALLY
The drink was called a “Chocolate Cake”. We all took the shots and allowed the temporary paralysis to take over our body from the excessive drinking of the night/week/month.
The Owner whispered in my ear “You always support whatever I do, so why wouldn’t I support you?” That was very sweet to hear.
In typical Liz fashion, I attempted to sneak out of the establishment, because I was so sleepy. I exited quickly, and jumped in the truck. Half way home, on the freeway, which was busy for some reason at a late hour, I realized that the truck was not driving normally; and remembered that because I parked on a hill, I executed the emergency brake. So I used my yellow chuck to push the brake in, hoping it would pop up. It did not. I immediately began to over analyze and exaggerate what was happening in my head. I was so scared. I did not want to call daddy. And I also didn’t want the pocket sized dragon that I just imagined to eat me. So, I phoned a friend. (giggling so much right now) The girls were planning to call the cavalry and rescue me, as usual, from myself. Then my Ace in the effin hole told me what to do in an Operators voice like she was at the Original Henry Ford Plant in Michigan. It worked!! Thank God almighty, it worked!!
Soon I was safe and sound in my new Wonder Woman PJ’s laughing at myself, until I fell asleep.
Let me leave you with this:
Life is so good, especially when you have kindred spirits at your side. And if for some reason you are just starting your journey and feel like a Lone Ranger, if you are confident and open minded, it will only be a matter of time before you attract kindred spirits as well.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Je ne sais pas (I don't know)
In between working, and doing whatever it is that Elizabeth does; there are times where memories flood my brain like a runneth over creek. Sometime the memories are really grandiose and bring a smile to my brown face. Then sometimes the memories come over me like a grey cloud hovering in the atmosphere, not really causing distress, but reminding me that it could cause distress if the right winds blow.
But today, I am grinning from ear to ear as I think about a simpler time and place:
I am not certain the year or the exact month, but I am sure it was the mid 80’s and it must have been early summer in New Orleans, Louisiana. My baby sister and I would be shipped to Louisiana every single summer, and every single school break. This is where the maternal side of my family lived/lives and we would always have a completely different experience every time we go.
Flow with me, as I paint the picture engraved in my heart and soul…this is one picture that the water did not erase-
Ellen and I slept in the most adorable pajamas, perched across either a bed or a pallet in Gramo’s room. The window would be open, only bearing the screen. The breeze would flow in across the Mississippi River, down into the lower ninth ward, and into our window, creating a small dance across our faces and into the curls which rested on our heads.
Then, amidst the breeze and the calmness of the moment, we would hear a shout in the not-so-far-away distance “Vegetables! Come get your vegetables!”. This was just the alarm clock that we needed. Up, we would hop, to ask Grandmama for some change so that we could meet the Fruit and Vegetable man outside and get whatever our hearts desired. Of course, she would arm us with shiny coins and send us into the street. There we would wave down the man with his truck and huge amounts of fruits and vegetables visible from his cab. I don’t remember what all we would buy, but I can remember seeing my Aunt Mildred a few houses down watering her lawn, and waving at the girls from Texas. It was morning and the jazz playing and the friendly faces outside, most of whom were family, was a strong indication of such.
Back thru the gate and up the porch stairs, we would race; and back into the room where we would rest. The smell of strong Café’ Dumond Coffee with Chicory would be brewing in an old tin coffee pot. The smell would began to draw us in.
Ding-Dong-Ding-Dong, and at the door, as timely as a clock himself, was a tall, brown Uncle Brother. He had the smoothest skin, and the most beautiful grey locks of curls in his head. He was a handsome, manly, man. This was grandmama’s brother and he came to visit the house every morning, on foot, with his Times Picayune, Newspaper, tucked neatly under his arm. Grandmama would pour him some coffee and at the table, they would sit and laugh about the “good old” days. He taught me to play checkers when I was eight years old.
Within an hour, some of the other family would come down to sip coffee, eat cinnamon rolls and just talk about the issues of the hour.
Ellen and I would come out and sit on a lap or two, laugh and mostly amuse them with our Texas accent with every word spoken, from our small voices.
I am so blessed. I knew all of Grandmama’s sisters and brothers. They all, except 2 of the 8, lived in the lower ninth ward, in walking distance of one another. They all had their own stories to tell, and they all had there own way of touching my life.
Sometime, when I go back to visit New Orleans to see the handful of family still there, I come down Claiborne Street (Highway 90), over that rickety bridge and come down the street where my Grandmama used to live. There is nothing there but stumps, grass, abandoned boats and some new art-deco homes being built in an effort to completely remove the memory of what, once was.
I do not have very many pictures of my family from that street. In fact, very few of us do. You see, when the waters rose, they didn’t just take away people’s homes, it attempted to eradicate our very existence. It attempted to remove the fact that once upon a time, we were there; and we were happy.
Dedicated to the: Broussards, Josephs, Lapages and Quests.
I love you all!
But today, I am grinning from ear to ear as I think about a simpler time and place:
I am not certain the year or the exact month, but I am sure it was the mid 80’s and it must have been early summer in New Orleans, Louisiana. My baby sister and I would be shipped to Louisiana every single summer, and every single school break. This is where the maternal side of my family lived/lives and we would always have a completely different experience every time we go.
Flow with me, as I paint the picture engraved in my heart and soul…this is one picture that the water did not erase-
Ellen and I slept in the most adorable pajamas, perched across either a bed or a pallet in Gramo’s room. The window would be open, only bearing the screen. The breeze would flow in across the Mississippi River, down into the lower ninth ward, and into our window, creating a small dance across our faces and into the curls which rested on our heads.
Then, amidst the breeze and the calmness of the moment, we would hear a shout in the not-so-far-away distance “Vegetables! Come get your vegetables!”. This was just the alarm clock that we needed. Up, we would hop, to ask Grandmama for some change so that we could meet the Fruit and Vegetable man outside and get whatever our hearts desired. Of course, she would arm us with shiny coins and send us into the street. There we would wave down the man with his truck and huge amounts of fruits and vegetables visible from his cab. I don’t remember what all we would buy, but I can remember seeing my Aunt Mildred a few houses down watering her lawn, and waving at the girls from Texas. It was morning and the jazz playing and the friendly faces outside, most of whom were family, was a strong indication of such.
Back thru the gate and up the porch stairs, we would race; and back into the room where we would rest. The smell of strong Café’ Dumond Coffee with Chicory would be brewing in an old tin coffee pot. The smell would began to draw us in.
Ding-Dong-Ding-Dong, and at the door, as timely as a clock himself, was a tall, brown Uncle Brother. He had the smoothest skin, and the most beautiful grey locks of curls in his head. He was a handsome, manly, man. This was grandmama’s brother and he came to visit the house every morning, on foot, with his Times Picayune, Newspaper, tucked neatly under his arm. Grandmama would pour him some coffee and at the table, they would sit and laugh about the “good old” days. He taught me to play checkers when I was eight years old.
Within an hour, some of the other family would come down to sip coffee, eat cinnamon rolls and just talk about the issues of the hour.
Ellen and I would come out and sit on a lap or two, laugh and mostly amuse them with our Texas accent with every word spoken, from our small voices.
I am so blessed. I knew all of Grandmama’s sisters and brothers. They all, except 2 of the 8, lived in the lower ninth ward, in walking distance of one another. They all had their own stories to tell, and they all had there own way of touching my life.
Sometime, when I go back to visit New Orleans to see the handful of family still there, I come down Claiborne Street (Highway 90), over that rickety bridge and come down the street where my Grandmama used to live. There is nothing there but stumps, grass, abandoned boats and some new art-deco homes being built in an effort to completely remove the memory of what, once was.
I do not have very many pictures of my family from that street. In fact, very few of us do. You see, when the waters rose, they didn’t just take away people’s homes, it attempted to eradicate our very existence. It attempted to remove the fact that once upon a time, we were there; and we were happy.
Dedicated to the: Broussards, Josephs, Lapages and Quests.
I love you all!
Wedding Dress
I wonder if I will ever wear a wedding dress. I mean, I can barely stand dresses….on me that is. I’ve been married once, engaged at least twice and still I have never put worn a wedding gown. Well that is, outside that time, I tried it on in New Orleans, planning my own big day, which never happened after all.
If, I do get a chance to wear a wedding dress, who will be at my side? Who will watch me as I stride down the ailse, or up some stairs or beside a watery path? Will you be there?
What’s in a dress? Aside from all of the lace, and draped uncomfortable fabric, what really is the point of a dress? And underneath the dress, fitting closely to my body is all of the shapewear and garments to ensure that everything remains in its place as I flow freely with my wedding dress on.
I wonder if I will ever wear a wedding dress.
If, I do get a chance to wear a wedding dress, who will be at my side? Who will watch me as I stride down the ailse, or up some stairs or beside a watery path? Will you be there?
What’s in a dress? Aside from all of the lace, and draped uncomfortable fabric, what really is the point of a dress? And underneath the dress, fitting closely to my body is all of the shapewear and garments to ensure that everything remains in its place as I flow freely with my wedding dress on.
I wonder if I will ever wear a wedding dress.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Breaking Point
I have worked hard and equally played as hard my whole life. I always knew that I was special and that the world would hear my voice in one means or another. It is that anointing on my life that I believe has kept me safe and always well cared for.
This year, this 2010...the year I always waited for (my birthday was 10.10.10) is quickly coming to a close. This year has not even remotely gone the way that I plan. I've been thru some challenges. Some of these challenges, at one point left me gasping for air and wondering if I would ever come out of the darkness.
But now as I am breaking, coming out of the darkness, one bold foot in front of the other I am thankful for every broken promise, every loss of treasure, every feeling of lack....because those things shook me to my core and made me see what was/is really important in my life.
Now, before you go forward, you must realize that the things which are important to me, may not be the same for you. You may also be wondering why or how I feel that I am broken; so allow me to explain:
My belief system has been broken. The very bedrock to which my soul rests has been shaken so badly that it actually cracked and is now unstable. This means that now, I have no preconceived notions about anyone or any situation. I no longer believe that because you are an adult that you will know who you are or where you are going. I know longer believe that finding God means going to church or to jail. I no longer believe that love is enough.
These things are helping to re-mold me in a better, stronger and more open minded spirit being in a physical body. With these gifts of rebirth, I plan to properly leave my legacy on this earth. You may not like my methods or what I have to say, but that has nothing to do with my purpose and my journey.
So you see, a breaking point is not bad. It is only bad if you opt to remain broken, crumbled and disconnected from the universes mighty realm.
This year, this 2010...the year I always waited for (my birthday was 10.10.10) is quickly coming to a close. This year has not even remotely gone the way that I plan. I've been thru some challenges. Some of these challenges, at one point left me gasping for air and wondering if I would ever come out of the darkness.
But now as I am breaking, coming out of the darkness, one bold foot in front of the other I am thankful for every broken promise, every loss of treasure, every feeling of lack....because those things shook me to my core and made me see what was/is really important in my life.
Now, before you go forward, you must realize that the things which are important to me, may not be the same for you. You may also be wondering why or how I feel that I am broken; so allow me to explain:
My belief system has been broken. The very bedrock to which my soul rests has been shaken so badly that it actually cracked and is now unstable. This means that now, I have no preconceived notions about anyone or any situation. I no longer believe that because you are an adult that you will know who you are or where you are going. I know longer believe that finding God means going to church or to jail. I no longer believe that love is enough.
These things are helping to re-mold me in a better, stronger and more open minded spirit being in a physical body. With these gifts of rebirth, I plan to properly leave my legacy on this earth. You may not like my methods or what I have to say, but that has nothing to do with my purpose and my journey.
So you see, a breaking point is not bad. It is only bad if you opt to remain broken, crumbled and disconnected from the universes mighty realm.
Friday, November 12, 2010
My mind is mine
It’s like we take 2 steps forward and you push us back eight
And we discuss this thing and tomorrow you’re back only to say….
And you swear this would never happen, but I just give you time;
And what I say soon ALWAYS comes to sight.
Psychic nope. Just familiar with the ways of this world, and the ways of the chaotic mind.
See. I. Used. To. Be. Just. Like. You.
But it’s all good and sweet and completely neat, I just sit back and watch you create these ideas which don’t seem to come to fruition….watch you pretend it’s all me and condition yourself to believe that without me, you’d be happy. Would you? Try it….if you please. Because at the end of the day, I really want you to be happy. I want to see your name among the stars. I want to know that everything you set out to do happened, suddenly because I am no longer there to persuade you to finish what you start and plan thru.
Sometime I fear that my love isn’t good enough anyway. You reject my ideas, turn my serious into childs play. You turn my decent thoughts into something un-pure. Because in your mind, you are just soooo sure. You turn my good intentions into as you so eloquently say “Bull shit”. But hey, maybe, maybe it isn’t me that’s psychic…maybe it was you all the time. I don’t know. In my mind, I just try. I just tried.
And we discuss this thing and tomorrow you’re back only to say….
And you swear this would never happen, but I just give you time;
And what I say soon ALWAYS comes to sight.
Psychic nope. Just familiar with the ways of this world, and the ways of the chaotic mind.
See. I. Used. To. Be. Just. Like. You.
But it’s all good and sweet and completely neat, I just sit back and watch you create these ideas which don’t seem to come to fruition….watch you pretend it’s all me and condition yourself to believe that without me, you’d be happy. Would you? Try it….if you please. Because at the end of the day, I really want you to be happy. I want to see your name among the stars. I want to know that everything you set out to do happened, suddenly because I am no longer there to persuade you to finish what you start and plan thru.
Sometime I fear that my love isn’t good enough anyway. You reject my ideas, turn my serious into childs play. You turn my decent thoughts into something un-pure. Because in your mind, you are just soooo sure. You turn my good intentions into as you so eloquently say “Bull shit”. But hey, maybe, maybe it isn’t me that’s psychic…maybe it was you all the time. I don’t know. In my mind, I just try. I just tried.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Houston, we have a problem
Houston, we have a problem! Yes, you finally got the memo of the seasons change. But when the seasons changed the priorities changed and the demographic shifted with the democratic and we are yet, right back at square one. No healthcare, childcare or educational fund. I just don’t understand son!
We have time to play on facebook
Time to ask others about someone else’s facebook
Time to play text and roulette
Time to shine the rented tires up to get someone “sprung”
Time to steal from your flesh and blood to continue a habit
Time to scream and cuss, though you claim to be a Christian, a Muslim, hanging with the Gents…
Time to ensure that your hair is did and your nails and brows fit the bill
Time to discuss what she had on last week and why you wouldn’t have wore it
Time to discuss the last time you got wasted and “tweeted” about it simultaneously
But no time to take a stand. No time to deliver a message of peace and deliverance. No time to serve your fellow man. No time to give God his glory. No time to seek tranquility, liberty and justice for all. No time to get your home in order. No time to start a new. No, no, no time.
I digress.
My words are falling on deaf ears. Ears that only hear the lyrics of Crime and Drug Lords idolized on the radio; LOL “Larry Hoover”. Ears that only remember what someone said or did to them. Ears that only hear cussing and fussing as the only way to solve a quarrel. Ears, who’ve been told “no” so long that they believe it and now they are saying NO.
No in deed
No in spirit
No in attitude
No in power
No in time…………….
Houston, we really have a problem….and time is running out.
We have time to play on facebook
Time to ask others about someone else’s facebook
Time to play text and roulette
Time to shine the rented tires up to get someone “sprung”
Time to steal from your flesh and blood to continue a habit
Time to scream and cuss, though you claim to be a Christian, a Muslim, hanging with the Gents…
Time to ensure that your hair is did and your nails and brows fit the bill
Time to discuss what she had on last week and why you wouldn’t have wore it
Time to discuss the last time you got wasted and “tweeted” about it simultaneously
But no time to take a stand. No time to deliver a message of peace and deliverance. No time to serve your fellow man. No time to give God his glory. No time to seek tranquility, liberty and justice for all. No time to get your home in order. No time to start a new. No, no, no time.
I digress.
My words are falling on deaf ears. Ears that only hear the lyrics of Crime and Drug Lords idolized on the radio; LOL “Larry Hoover”. Ears that only remember what someone said or did to them. Ears that only hear cussing and fussing as the only way to solve a quarrel. Ears, who’ve been told “no” so long that they believe it and now they are saying NO.
No in deed
No in spirit
No in attitude
No in power
No in time…………….
Houston, we really have a problem….and time is running out.
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