Inside-Out...

Today I started thinking more in depth about a lil' something that's been bothering me. While folding clothes I thought to myself about my wardrobe and how I used to be in high school versus how I am today. Nothing too deep, but just a reflection of the outside.

I was such the risk taker in high school dressing how I wanted despite ridicule. I guess some say that's what being a teenager is all about about, but with some, such as me, I disagree. I expressed myself honestly and truthfully. My outside truly reflected my inside despite how good, and unfortunately how bad.

Now, as I age, and yes I say that with a little salt behind my words, I realize that I've lost my external way. I no longer dress to express, I dress for necess-ity. I might as well wear a frickin' uniform. One for work, one for the store, and one for casual ventures out. And my beloved boo-piece doesn't help, because she could not care less.

Oh and to make matters even worse, I suck at forcing it. Just not my thing. Every time I attempt to force it I come off looking too old or too young. Both which are quite sad in my lil' eyes.

So now that it is officially on my mind, maybe some sense of style can creep back into my existence, because boring was never my thing. I guess, because of life and it's many demands it's not hard to loose one's self, externally or internally. Because I look in the mirror and my insides yarn or better yet, squinch to figure out what it's looking at.

(Light bulb moment)

*Eureka*...Maybe this is the first time in a long time that I have actually felt comfortable reflecting what's on the inside. Whoa, okay, I think that's it. I have watered myself down to be around a range of people, hence what appears on the outside is watered down.

I tell you, simple things are seldom simple.

I am me and that's who I want to present myself as.

Saving 10-12...

The phone rings...the display says "Private Cell".
Who can that be?

Just in case...let it ring... they can leave a message.

20 minutes later the phones rings again. It's you. But why would you be calling me.
It's over and has been for a while.

"1 New Voicemail"...it's you and you've been crying. Why?

Born the same day, different year. It was as if all of my inner workings were bundled and personified. All of my past strife displayed in front of me.

I wanted to save you, because in my mind, saving you might save me. Save that ailing inner girl drowning in a world of insecurity, indecision, and mental incarceration.

I wanted to save you, even if that meant, that I had to drown a little.

And drown I did.
Three years...Three years of drowning.

Finally...I let you go, to save me. To free me.
The load of the pained girl was too much.
I could not save you, nor was I supposed to.

Nearly instantaneous, life was anew. Reaching the surface of that ocean of burden, stepping out unto new sands. I drown no more. A rebirthing.

But even now, I hear you cry. Through life's challenges, have I weakened so, that the defeated girl still summons me? Or is it a test?

The phone rings...

"Hey, you can't call me anymore."

"Why...is it a problem?"

"Yeah"

Call-Me-A-Cab...

Call-Me-A-Cab is the name of the refreshing beverage that almost ruined my visit to the M.I.A. this weekend. BUT it also is the refreshing beverage that united Baltimore and New Jersey for several hours.

Coincidentally, or maybe not, the two men we initially met were the astrological signs of our mothers, go figure. And coincidentally, or maybe not, we gravitated to our corresponding "mothers".

These men, 10 years our senior, appeared to be decent black men. (And I suppose I mean that in comparison to the onslaught of sub-par black men out there.) These men despite their qualities apparently feared the commitment of marriage. But they possessed a firm sense of the workings of women, something that I've always appreciated and feared in men.

After guards were partially let down, we discussed the makings and differences between men and women, in addition to random life sht. Conversations that black women rarely take up with strangers (women strangers, that is).

The third gentleman that joined us was a robust fella, with a budding sense
of humor and uncanny insight. Realizing that we all found each other "intellectually" stimulating, we began to "read" one another, somewhat boasting on our ability to see past bullsht and to declare real sht.

And of course I was not spared, because I was a hit with a lil' "read" that has bothered me since it hit my ears. I was told that I know I am cute, but I try to act like I'm not. What the fck does that mean? I'm thinking do I actually "hide" myself due to some type of fear? I'm still thinkin' 'bout it so Imma save that analysis for another time.

But we all gave potshots to one another, humbly stinging each other. Accusations of fear of commitment, cattiness, insecurity, and the cursed man having daughter(s)as punishment for past sins, etc.

Afterwards we washed away our sins in the ocean, being way too familiar. But none-the-less enjoying good company.

Sadly, connections like that don't happen to often, but I can appreciate it the same.

So as they say...what happens in Miami stays in Miami...which is by default for me because I really don't remember the rest.
:)

*shrug*

Wicked-The Novel...

I've taken a liking to the novel Wicked by Gregory Maguire. Why so much
to actually blog about it, I don't know. A few days ago I reached that
dreaded section before the climax, where it was drug out and boring.
But Luckily I've made my way out of that section.

As the novel tells of the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, I couldn't
help but relate the various details to those of today.

In the Wizard of Oz, she's already type casted and judged. We think ooo, how ugly, green and wicked she is. And we boo hoo for pale lil Dorothy. BUT, ha haaa, we never stop to think about why she became that way. We really forget that the btch mighta had a life that drove her to wanted to kill urbody!

SO...to get to the point. It makes me think about people today. When people are
unpleasant, ignorant, etc., I like to stop and think dayum, how you get like dis.

Seldom do I judge a person on solitary actions alone, I like to know why
people do them. I like to get a better sense of the person behind the
actions. I guess because it tells you so much.

Not to say I'm saintly cause even after I figure out the whats and whys, on certain occasions, I still don't give a flying fck. BUT it's just good to know. lol.

So now after being 300+ pages into the book, I am on the Witch's side.
Born green, she didn't have a chance in hell. She actually had
compassion for the world, so much so that she removed herself from it.
Now that's deep.

Eager for the ending, I am satisfied with what I've found out thus far.

And despite the boring center of the book, it is a very descriptive, insightful, slightly girl-powerish(to me)and interesting.

So as they say...don't judge a book by its cover, even if it's green. And that sht, my friends, is da truth.