Coffee Rhetoric: Diary
Showing posts with label Diary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diary. Show all posts

April 18, 2013

Redux- The Diary Years: Scrubbing Through the Pain


I have been revisiting some of my earlier posts (I was such a novice). They were narrative and far more personal. I spilled-open quite a bit and offered more insight into who I was [becoming] as a young adult woman. 

I've decided re-post a few of them here. Scrubbing Off the Pain is from September, 2005. I was trying to muddle through a particularly rough and mentally trying few weeks. I think it's really important for [us] black women to look after ourselves and to find productive ways to cope during particularly stressful times; whether that be via therapy or taking a hot bath.


Scrubbing Through the Pain, 

orig. published September 8th, 2005


I have been in a very dark mood as of late. I haven't been this down in years... not since I returned home from college and faced unemployment for nearly a year. I worked a series of thankless temp jobs and hustled however I could… eyebrow grooming was one way I made extra cash. Needless to say, I felt like a failure, because I was living in my mother's house at the tender age of about 23 years old, and wasn't yet, gainfully employed. I beat myself up pretty bad, in fact.

The perils of the world and ’this situation I shall not name’, have plagued me for several months now, and have had me in the grip of a nasty, nasty funk. I've even darkened my hair-- jet black with multifaceted, burgundy highlights. Today, on my day off, I woke up at 8:30AM, gulped copious cups of ink-black coffee, and fell back into bed, where I threw the covers over my face, and sniveled. By 11:30 AM, I'd had enough.

I was ashamed of myself for letting 'this thing' make me feel down. I told myself that I needed to get over it, but also welcome the human right to feel so I can expunge it from my system. I have never really been one to wallow and I generally don't like to be ensconced in negativity, so I cursed myself and lumbered out of bed, remembering how cathartic taking a bath could be.

July 13, 2012

Spilling Open

Paul Gauguin, "Brooding Woman"

Sullen Girl

 

I’ve neglected this blog long enough, but I’ve been working on editing a project that I’m expecting (or at least hoping) to pan out with some relative success. Also to be frank, I haven’t really felt compelled to update Coffee Rhetoric, contribute to any other platforms, or do any writing in general, as of late. None of the human interest stories I’ve been reading across the web, has incited me to chorus. Sometimes, I want a break from deconstructing gender, racial discord, intra-racial dysfunction, popular culture, and just the cult of personality in general. 
And while I don’t really feel the need to share that much of my own personal goings-on anymore, as I plod my way towards a break-through of some sort;  I will disclose that I am lamenting over many aspects of my being, while simultaneously celebrating my self-imposed solitariness… if that makes any sense. In other words, I miss being social, yet I have no desire to be around most people right now. 

It could be age—and me becoming while a grumpy old woman— or maybe it is just plain ol’ cynicism; but the thought of socializing or building with people doesn’t interest me as it once did… and neither does dating. My patience with certain personalities wears thin in a flash. Waning friendships and/or associations?  Bye… I’m not interested in trying to rekindle any of them; new connections? No longer interested in making any, save for a few rare exceptions and depending on the level of interest I have in the situation or person. This is not me having a pity-party and it’s far from self-flagellation… I’m not quite sure how to pinpoint my current state. It’s an amalgamation of feelings and a lack thereof.  I’m frustrated that personal goals aren’t panning out the way I need them to. I’m feeling like I’ve reached an impasse and want to buy a one-way ticket someplace faraway. I am struggling against the pull of “That Dark Place”, because I don’t want or like residing or visiting there. Essentially, I just want to be left alone… literally and figuratively; which I pretty much am, for the most part. I’ve learned to hide this particular brand of dismay well, because I've had to and quite frankly, don't really have a choice. Warding off encroaching demons that prompt me to shut down completely-- where I'm almost robotic, detached and somewhat cold-- is daunting though.  
Thirty-five is on my heels and I don’t care; as the last several Born Days, were uneventful and stark reminders of … many things, so I don't make much them... I prefer to spend them alone... with wine if I have access to any.   

Anyway, this is my attempt to write through the blockage as I continue to claw my way out of my funk, because I'm mentally worn out. At times I wish I “indulged” in other, otherwise I’d just smoke or pill-pop my way towards an epiphany… but then I doubt I’d ever get anything productive done, I’d be existing in some delusional state of being, and it’s not really a viable way (for me) to reach a resolution.  I’m just a bit overwhelmed from being underwhelmed.

“I still consider myself to be my own best friend though, and there's no company I'd rather keep than my own. Aside from my immediate family, there are very few people I care to spend more than a few hours (tops) with. Parties and particularly long "hang-outs" leave me feeling stir-crazy and most of all, self conscious. I don't really like myself much around other people. After the initial charm of my niceties wears off, I feel awkward and annoying. I long to be alone, to be with myself. It's a bit odd, simultaneously loving and hating yourself like I do.
And so I retreat back into my world of loner-ism, and I perk up. I start to feel better about myself. I shed the feelings that others are judging me and I go shopping, I treat myself to lunch, I take a bath, I read, I paint, I watch a movie (no interruptions from the peanut gallery, thank you very much). I do the things I wouldn't want to do with anyone else, and I become a better person for it.” 

Me, almost to a T. I'm working my way through the woods and towards clarity, though.  

October 24, 2011

These and Those: In Which My Hair Uncovers Dirty Truths


In these uncertain times where 9-to-5 jobs are difficult to come by due to asshole companies' discriminatory behavior and folks pushing forward to eke out an income working for themselves, money is tight and happy hour prices don't always put a smile on one's face once the bill comes. Fortunately Zula, located at 901 Main Street in downtown Hartford manages to keep it classy and sassy while providing a diverse crowd, good food, great music, and an outstanding happy hour from 4pm-7pm, so that folks don't side-eye their bill while angrily digging their wallet out of their purse or back pockets. $3 wines and drafts, $5 cocktails, and $4 plates. Why not? I was having a particularly good hair day this past Friday and ventured inside where I chatted up a personable and accommodating bartender named Jessica. 
Jessica kept me company and divulged interesting details about her life as a bartender before rapper, Keith Murray's sister found her way inside... apparently seduced by the halo of awesomeness that was my hair that day. She said she spied it through the plate glass window. My hair is touch and go whenever I wear un-bunned; some days it's just OK and other days it's particularly eye-catching. 

Now I'm familiar with this obviously cool woman (whose name always eludes me, unfortunately)- as I've run into her on numerous occasions downtown, where she resides. I had no idea until this past Friday that she was related to the Def Squad member, however. Keith's sister and I chatted about this and that... mostly regarding what her brother was currently up to and we pontificated a little about dating. Lately, I just choose not to do it. I'm really working on focusing getting to where I'd like to be professionally. Also, running into an unwanted nuisance I can't seem to escape a few days prior and then receiving a rambling voice mail this evening from another one, who once divulged an unfortunate story to me (on a FIRST quasi-DATE) about why his penis was virtually non-existent, has prompted me (an atheist type) to want to spend the remainder of my adult life in a convent for wayward dating souls. But I do enjoy hearing about what other people are up to in their love/sex lives. Keith Murray's sister spoke about a man she'd been dating for about a month, whose company she seemed to enjoy. He bought her gifts and he took her out to dine at fine restaurants. I happened to ask if they'd ever been to Zula. "This is too open for him. He likes more restrained, sort of fancier places. He probably wouldn't like this atmosphere." She suggested. We continued to make interesting conversation and shortly after, she excused herself to the bathroom. Suddenly a man and a young Black woman walked in. He pulled out Keith's sister's chair and  I alerted him, "Oh... someone's sitting there." He slid it back up to the bar sans incident... 
Keith's sister returned from the bathroom and surprised, hugged the man with familiarity. He and the young woman retreated to the opposite end of the bar. Considering our conversation just moments ago, Keith's sister alerted me that the man she hugged was the so-called charming fellow she'd been seeing, who bought her gifts, and who quite possibly would not take her out to dine at Zula... and it was obvious why. 

It gave me no pleasure whatsoever to see her obvious discomfort and dismay, especially when she said, "He told me he's here with someone else." I suggested that she "be cool" and finish enjoying her drink. A friend I spied and then a cool Hartfordite I recognized from and communicated with on Twitter, as well as an inebriated Afro-latina woman who mistakenly took and opened my purse to retrieve money to pay for her drinks would later distract me. So I never saw Keith's sister leave... The cad and his date were gone from the bar and slipped out into the cool, autumn night as well, and I wouldn't see how the awkward situation panned out in the end. My hope is that Keith's sister didn't go home too upset and put out. My hope is that I randomly run into her again. I'm not sure why this man felt compelled to try to put the wool over Keith Murray's sister's eyes and I won't speculate, as I've stopped trying to decipher the complicated adagio dance women and men, when courting one another. It's best to piss into the wind and just tread as steadily as one can in these matters. 

I'd like to think that if my hair hadn't been so awesome that day, Keith's sister would not have felt inspired to join me and stay long enough to see her paramour's dark-sided ways. And this is why I'll never bid my natural hair adieu. 

August 18, 2011

Spilling Open: Introspection

I haven't had the opportunity to spill open on here in a while. .. not in the fashion I'm accustomed to. "Diversifying" and introducing different elements to this blog has prompted me to sort of shut my personal self off. Since I can't afford the luxury of sighing and heaving to a shrink, I figured I'd get back to the middle and do it here. I miss spilling open here. The luxury of having my own forum and not restricting how I utilize my voice is a wonderful and freeing right to have. This very late and sleepless night, I choose to project in a very self-analytical way... for I'm the best, worst, most knowledgeable judge of me, myself, and I. 
Three days ago, I turned 34. I haven't had the opportunity to let the fact that I'm in my hardcore, mid-thirties, sink in until late last night and then now. I've always been an extremely leery woman, but it seems the older I get... the grumpier, more impatient, cut and dry paranoid I become about people's intentions (not to mention the insane hormonal changes my body is experiencing). My thoughts run a mile a minute... still... and my intuition goes into overdrive... The nights I can't sleep (which are often), I'm more in form and my emotions run the gamut.
Close friendships I've had for years are still intact, easy to maintain, and I cherish them. I also curse them for being so long-distance.  I'm finding that cultivating new ones is a difficult process for me. Sort of like the three times I've tried, to no avail, to care for and nurture organic  French lavender plants.  While I enjoy meeting their acquaintance, I don't trust people upon first coming into contact with them and schmoozing is a daunting task I'd rather avoid. My expectations of folks I fancy tend to be pretty basic, but high (within reason)... so when they generate a flaky outer-crust, I have visuals of them engaging in unsavory discussions about me when I'm not around and cackling at my expense after I've opened up to them (a la the movie, Carrie... when she flashes back to her mother mockingly telling her; "They're all gonna laugh at you!"). Mind you, none of the things I'm divulging charts the madness of an Angry Black Woman who's aging and coming undone. I've gone through some schtuff  over the years with people I considered friends, who eventually had no use for me once I stopped being able to provide them with the things they needed from me or who found someone more ride-or-die to guffaw and shoot the shit with. This is nineteen years worth of angst. I'm conflicted; sometimes  assholish when it comes to shielding myself... and so it manifests in a brooding, somewhat cold package ready to cut someone's jugular (or shutdown and close up shop, depending on the situation)- when I think I'm being compromised in some way. I stay solitary for the most part and actually quite enjoy doing things alone... In fact I find it gratifying and not unlike the scene from Catherine Breillat's French film, Romance... where Marie stalks her boyfriend to a sushi restaurant... chagrined by his flagrant pleasure in being alone eating his California rolls and reading his book ... without her... to which she mentally voices over that she would've rather found him cheating with another woman. 
While I dislike being a mercurial woman sans the desire to nurture deeper relationships with the opposite sex or entertain any new applicants for friendship, I've grown comfortable in my ... aloofness (for lack of a better term), as it's easy to just exist in a world unto myself and with people I'm comfortable with and who know me. But while my opaque and indifferent nature seems comforting and offers the protection I need from being inconvenienced in some way...  it's exasperating. 
Aging, learning how to deal with other people's personality quirks juxtaposed against my own, and fumbling towards my core presents an amalgamation of different feelings: perplexed, resistant, and frustrated ...
I understand that venturing outside the comfortable confines I've built around myself is a difficult but very necessary thing I need to experience more often... Despite it being so easy to withdraw and become self-contained... In essence, I just want to be left the hell alone; yet essentially I want to be happy having reached some sort of balanced medium... but I know this isn't a healthy or realistic expectation. What can I say?... I'm a middle child who embraces her right to err and grow. Stay tuned...

September 28, 2010

In Which I Wax Nostalgic About the Laws of Dating, My Uterus, and My Life

(c)Coffee Rhetoric
Aside from stumbling into an impromptu date here and there, I decided some months ago not to invest anymore stock, time, or energy actually searching for a date or trying to figure out why navigating the mechanics of dating sucks so hard. I've come to the conclusion that is just is what it is. Fumbling towards ecstasy seems to be the way to go. As I continue to hone my socialite life and fledgling writing/social media career past the point of starving artist, I've met the myriad of personalities and have literally stumbled into impromptu dates... fun ones sans the tension and anxiety of planned meetings ... I find that this works for me, sometimes. The pressure is off and I remain focused. These realizations hit me every year that I get older. 
Gone are the days where I feel the need to explain myself, my actions, my life or engage questions such as "What do you  do?" "Explain why you do..." and "Do you have any children?" <- (my least favorite question).  
It does offer the opportunity to choose from an assortment of obnoxious answers, however, or not to answer at all... slyly changing the subject.
 The fact of the matter is, I feel okay with not wanting to have any children or settle down... exploring my options as I see fit and not opening up those issues for scrutiny or debate. Ofttimes I feel comfortable with my personal choices and life. Unless someone's making a hefty deposit into my checking account to help toward my livelihood... depositing their two cents is non-negotiable. Being 33 allows me to feel okay with struggling toward the finish line in my race to accomplish my goals. 
(c)Coffee Rhetoric
The struggle (especially in this economy) is frustrating and exasperating, and I've faced several obstacles head on this year (reluctantly so in some instances), but it's a beautiful struggle nonetheless and it belongs to me... no one else. During this... my own personal triathlon, I try to find the balance between feeling frustrated and just simply enjoying myself... and so I may take a small detour and enjoy life's pleasures... such as perusing products on display... 
(c)Coffee Rhetoric
and taking in some theater productions  featuring the art of interpretive dance... 
 It's a gradual journey and I'm extremely hopeful, hungry, resolute, humbled, and driven. 

August 08, 2010

Maintaining

So far, I'm maintaining. Despite not being exactly where I'd like to be, not getting exactly what I want to have, so forth and so on, I feel somewhat at peace... somewhat. There're definitely intermittent moments where the weather forecast is fraught with cumulus clouds. During that those moments, Horus steps in front of me and angrily jabs his fist at the sky as Wadjet keeps me under her watchful eye... making sure I don't collapse in a dejected heap. It is then that I continue to flail and fight, the undeniable resolve of Sekhmet. 
Fringed ends are trimmed for good and I tightly knot the freshly shorn and intact ones. That is all the closure I need, because regressing is the interpretive dance form I'd rather not engage in. I'm exasperated, but I continue to trudge forth, shrugging off non essential baggage, lightening my load as best as I can, while holding on to those provisions crucial to my survival. I've got those neatly packed away in a trendy, brown leather hand bag. They sit amongst my lip gloss, hand cream, wallet, pepper spray, ear phones, and mobile phone. 
I'm sputtering forward, forcing my way through as many doors as I can push my way through... Please note the tip jar to the left. No bills lower than Good Karma and Well Wishes, thank you very much. 

June 12, 2010

Changements

 Path of least resistance: In physics, the path of least resistance is always taken by objects moving through a system. For example, water flowing downhill follows the path of least resistance as it is pulled downward by gravity. Electricity flowing through a circuit behaves similarly; while every available path has some current through it, the amount of current through each path is inversely proportional to its electrical resistance. Atmospheric disturbances (storms) flow on the path of least resistance by flowing toward zones of low barometric pressure, where lower air density offers less impedance to the storm system than higher pressure zones.

... So many changes, so little time.
I've been diverted, and have turned off of another exit. I feel... good; this is a good thing. As frazzling as change can be, I've grown accustomed to viewing each sudden development as a chance to breathe life into another entity; as the opportunity to explore, expound upon, to build. In the midst of these changes, I've had a nervous breakthrough which has manifested into a creative spurt. I love kicking through writer's/creative blocks. It's almost like playing a round of Tetris... once you fit a puzzle piece in its rightful place, all the rest disintegrates and explodes like fireworks, allowing the player to move on to the next level. I'm excited and extremely hopeful. Stay tuned.

April 27, 2010

These and Those

So it appears that the Torment of Tantalus has worked its trickery on me again; 'tis all good though. My world is still level and my resolve is intact... and somewhat stronger than ever. In a phrase, I'm none too worse for wear and still stumbling, trying to find my footing. That's all one can do. 
In the interim, more than ever, I'm finding that personalities are as fickle and unpredictable as seasons and that mediocrity and basic people reign supreme in this cult-of-personality, as they accomplish their come-up from the bottom of the swamp as well as the best catches in the sea, who seem hypnotized by the foolishness of dysfunction. The forecast in my stratosphere range from sunny dispositions to broody, stagnant air. My stopgap is a heavy dose of preoccupation, sprinkled with good old-fashioned aloofness. I tried to find willing and interesting sponsorship/ads for this humble little blog, to no avail. No takers. Perhaps it's for the best. I like being the little engine that could. Just me and my thoughts, spilled out sans irritating, flashing banners. What was I thinking anyway? Back to the weather-- People, men (especially), women... they come and go. As I fumble toward some semblance of ecstasy, I'm humbled to re-realize who and what really matters and how much (more) I value certain people and things. 
Dating doesn't factor into my foresight so much, anymore... because I'm oh, so driven. My legs are pumping and sore from the effort of trying to complete this marathon run; so any and others... this includes rejects who've resurfaced from underneath their moist rocks for Spring, those who whisper sweet nothings (because essentially that's all it amounts to)... can kick rocks. I got my stoic groove back, creativity is flourishing, and I'm nibbling away- (with more frequency... like an famished city rat, who has hit pay dirt with its meal) at writing projects I neglected while in the throes of my frustration and anguish. 
I'll even admit out loud that I attempted to apply for a writing grant a few months ago... and got overwhelmed and intimidated by the whole process and gave up. I'm regretful, but not ashamed. My mind wandered towards more pressing matters...and my passion was stifled.
Regardless of what hasn't happened (yet) , I've got my second wind. I'm still flailing and am not down for the count. Watch out for these blind right-hooks. They are unbridled in their efforts and I take no responsibility for whose jaw might get cracked.

February 03, 2010

Just Drive

I feel like I've reached an impasse. A never-ending maze with an elusive exit. So many decisions, so many things to nibble away at, but I'm completely deadlocked. People, places, and things never cease to perplex the hell out of me. And at times, it's overwhelming. I've had moments where I've attempted to check out, but alas, to no avail, because worries, my thoughts continue to plague me. I manage to be aloof in certain aspects of my life i.e., dating; wishy washy suitors, and an endless supply of assholes. In other aspects? Not so much; opportunities, my livelihood, my future. 
Ofttimes I think I have a dubious guardian, who loves toying with me and seeing me grapple with the worst luck! Or perhaps I'm an unwitting contestant in some twisted reality television program, where the masses are watching me wrestle and fight my way to the top. I don't know, but I continue to shadowbox. To bob, weave, sidestep... dance... twirl my way to what I feel is rightfully mine! I'm at a loss right now. I don't know how to plot my next move but I do know that I'm ready for my turn. I'm thinking. I'm pondering. I'm pissed. Intense game of mind play at work. Please do not disturb!
The fight continues. This is round 20.

January 24, 2010

Slippery When Wet


I recently damned the complexities of dating and all its bullshit to hell. Cynicism aside; Upon further discussions with friends newly found and old, recent meet & greets, as well as random acts of thinking on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I've concluded that finding a decent person to spend quality time with on occasion, is akin to holding onto a slippery bar of soap, while trying to keep your shit together in prison. I've never been to prison and have no aspirations of landing my big break in that particular environment, but I would imagine that lathering up in a communal shower while deep in thought over how the hell you found yourself there... and then dropping the soap, only to bend over without thought or caution and get reamed within an inch of your life in an opportunistic sneak attack, is a traumatizing experience to say the least. You have to hold onto that bar of soap for dear life, and be methodical with every move you make as you lather your skin in a circular motion, shifty eyed and leery.

Dating requires patience, maintaining tough but supple skin, methodical movements, intellect, caution, and engaging in a carefully choreographed Adagio dance or angry Tango Ultimo with the opposite sex. As frustrating as trying to foster or nourish a certain level of intimacy or rapport with someone is; Being aloof, intuitive, and resolute is a must. Because if you let yourself slip up and get mired in the foolishness--- bam! You're doubled over, screwed out of nowhere. It's le marcher fou des sexes for sure. I'm constantly dancing over potholes and bird shit. I've even tripped over a crack or two... But all praises due to ỌṣunI always manage to regain my footing before going down, face-first like a cheap, ten dollar whore. Not sure what my score card would read like though. I shudder at the thought. And I bathe with shower gel most days, rather than soap sooo--- yeah.

January 12, 2010

Bartender!

Screw sleep. Screw my main squeeze. I'm going to burn the midnight oil again, this fine evening... as my vigil is never ending. I'm on a quest and time is limited. I need something stronger than my familiar lover, to sustain... and to escape if only for an hour or so. My brain needs a welcome reprieve from the trials and tribs of everyday stuff... My brain just refuses to turn off. When it's on, it's on, until the break of dawn. Since I can't seem to get to sleep, may as well imbibe... if anything, I may fall into a restful slumber. That is all.

Witching Hour

I live basement level. Last night, during the wee hours, the pipes put up quite a ruckus. Banging! Clanging, Thrashing, ... the sounds were akin to someone hitting a metal baseball bat against a steel pole, with brute force over and over and over again. Pause. Then over again. Or perhaps something was trying to force its way through the heating vents above my bed? Was ceiling cat trying to make a nervous breakthrough? I'm not sure. Either way, I woke up in fits and starts. My heart leaped with every loud clang. I was already restless and edgy. I'm a chronic insomniac, and so was hungry for any semblance of sleep I could get. I'd suddenly drift off, and then CLANG! My heart thumped against my chest and my head started to throb. My mind started running its ever increasing lap. I tried in vain to lull and soothe my thoughts... to no avail. A bit paranoid and somewhat leery, I didn't get to sleep until 4AM. I felt like Catherine Deneuve, in Roman Polanski's psychological thriller, 'Repulsion,' minus the androphobia and sexual repression.
This late-late evening, I am still restless. While the malevolent spirit that lives in the vents is quietly lying in wait. Anxiety won't offer me any reprieve. I'm worried about many things. I'm antsy. I'm apprehensive. I'm resolute. I'm petulant. My eyelids are heavy and my retinas burn with fatigue. I want to cry frustrated tears, but because I'm resolute, I can't manage to squeeze any out... So, I'm keeping a vigil at this late hour ...

December 28, 2009

These and Those

I'll be back to reflect in 2010. I'll be back to relay some newer ideas here and there. Things are inching along ever so slowly, but surely... I think.
I have much to mull over. I have much to possibly share and relay. But I definitely need to take a moment, prior to my reflection. This blog here... it has been cathartic. It has been great. And I'm still here to spill open.

December 08, 2009

Tentation

a hulking figure... completely cloaked in the anonymity of darkness, blocked the last remnants of the sun, which was already struggling against Winter's soulstice.
it extended an inky arm and casually placed it on my shoulder...
i stood silent, in a meditative state,
determined not to break my concentration...
ohhhhhmmmm
to no avail. at least during this round.
i wonder what would have happened had i caught the last remnants of the sun shower and drenched myself. if only I hadn't been distracted.
i'd be at one with my chi... i'd be writhing around, in a passionate embrace at the temple of my familiar, as opposed to drifting in a desolate matrix... caught between space, time, perception, and... time, trying to play catch up with my center.
i'm beginning to loathe the mechanics of time travel.

November 20, 2009

On and On, and On and On...

... The beat continues... throw in unusual dreams, a brief fugue state where I lost 24 hours and had my days mixed up, for I'm running on lack of sleep most of which I've caught up on, and bouts of stress related anxiety. Things that make my stomach gurgle with agitation: "Hang in there. We're living in difficult times," and the ubiquitous, "Have you found a job yet??" When all I asked was, was, "Hey, how's it going?" Sigh. Firstly, while I really appreciate a great pep talk, I'm not keen on being pepped if I'm not down, haven't asked for input, or needing to be picked up. I confide in family and close friends when I need to vent a frustration. I also have my creative outlets... most of which involves writing and this trusty old blog that's been with me through thick and thin, thank you (not) very much. The patronizing tone is enough to make my smile wane and my middle finger twitch. My fugue state wasn't so bad. I do have an alternate universe I like to vacation at every now and again.
Alas, I'm brainstorming a way to make my own opportunity come to fruition as I continue my triumphant march. In the meantime, if you're a virile and wealthy gentleman with a heart of gold to match your pockets, feel free to sponsor me and make my dreams of being a socialite come true.
I keed, I keed... ;-)

October 11, 2009

Flailing

I've been trying to fight this cold, pressure in my chest for the past few days. Amazing what a number stress can do to one's body. One moment of vulnerability and sick just grips your body like a wendigo does a desperate and hungry soul. Add stress and the insatiable need to excel, to prosper, to just get a break for once and no amount of Vitamin C or medicine can break its hold. The chest pressure is the most distressing. As much as I'd like to relax, the pressure (no pun intended... actually, pun intended) is on.... things are starting to mount, those who collect are staring to circle, and while my resolve isn't broken it is cracked. The hunt is exhausting for I feel like I've exhausted most if not every resource available to me. I inhale... I wheeze like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. I exhale... more demonic sounding wind. I need to exorcise this lame luck! I'm working hard to exorcise this lame stroke of luck!
One bright spot is that I do have an interview this Wednesday, at a non-profit that does great work to benefit homeless women and their families. While it is part-time, I am hoping I make a good enough impression so that I get an in. As much as I hate to speak such things out loud, because I'm slightly superstitious and believe doing so before a result has come to pass, will result in a unfavorable outcome... perhaps spilling it open with mild splash ... and letting in marinate into the universe will ... *I don't know* ...

September 20, 2009

Whatevs...

A recent foray back into the world of temp agencies has CONFIRMED the reasons why I haven't registered with one in so long. Bullshit, constant runaround, indecisive clients, lack of courtesy and consistency. Which is unfortunate, because I had such high hopes for this current one I registered with. I was sold. Needless to say, I'm back at square one... my resolve is still intact however, and this is all that matters.
I am so over job hunting, but do it out of necessity. Am pounding the pavement and doing everything short of working the stroll (which would probably be lucrative at this point). How do certain people with no discernible skills, education, personality, or professionalism manage to get hired and stay employed?? Oh, do tell! If only I were born a socialite... ah, whatever. I do enjoy having a strong work ethic, so nevermind. ... not saying having tons of money wouldn't make life damned easier while I navigate the trials and tribulations of job hunting.
Hopefully my one-on-one I booked with a job counselor will present results, insight, and leads!

September 17, 2009

Marriage Counseling

As I nurse my malbec and inhale the mild scent of amber scented candles and spicy incense, I've come to the conclusion that I married myself in hopes of living in holy matrimony, til death would do me part. I married myself, as I clutched at the stars, hoping to catch each and every one... shutting out naysayers and discouraging voices.
I grasp, I daydream and I sweet fix.
I've come to the realization that I married myself in sickness and in health. I frequently fold from time to time, because sometimes realism transcends idealism, and these 'isms are sometimes the bane of my marriage. But... 'til. death. do. me. part... irreconcilable differences be damned.

September 06, 2009

Sunday Ear Candy and a thought.

Some things in life don't come through. No skin off, this round. The beat plays on. My chi is as calm as a traquil Mediterranean breeze.
Here's my latest soundtrack.

August 26, 2009

The Beat Plays On

Oya- Yoruban Goddess of wind, change, fortune, and chaos.
Life continues on in its current state... the force is playing Jedi mind tricks with my Psyche- Aphrodite be damned! ... for last week wasn't the best of weeks mentally or physically. But I triumphed with grace, kicked my sinus/respiratory issues along with the dubious heat? rash I developed (which I suspect stress, along with the oppressive weather, made me susceptible to)- and am carrying on, ducking, bobbing and weaving, because I. am. not. the. one. I know I may stumble again from time to time with every blow to the gut and frustration will grip me until I achieve results, but it won't maintain its hold. Optimism and fierce determination restored, I'm carrying on with carrying on. ... exploring options and hoping for the opportunity to thrive. Sometimes chaos manifests into a worthwhile outcome.
That is all.