Dress for success

Sometimes a great dress can make all the difference. It can set the tone for what type of mood you would like to be in. This dress makes me want to dance and flirt.

Acceptance

He is happy.

OK. I can accept that he is happy with his new family. Wife. Kids. He is all smiles. His son looks like a miniature version of him. Big smile, dimples to match. It is blissfully familial. I see it and I am happy for him. I accept the fact that he has moved on to a seemingly beautiful life. I just wonder why it seems so easy for some and really hard for the rest of us.

This goes beyond my envy greenness. It is no different than when you look at pictures of happy couple, families, or people and try to imagine what their lives would really be like. You create a whole concept life, kind of like The Sims (or is that just me). So I look at his life and I just feel…a certain way.

But I accept that he is happy. His kids are healthy. And he has the family that he’s always wanted.

A Bird in the Hand

A bird in the hand is worth two in a bush…wait. Is that right?

I guess that means that the concrete is more important than the possibility. Right now all I have are possibilities. And I like what’s possible right now. The ideas that are in my head make me feel more grounded than any other moments. I am excited about breaking away…flying even. I am kind of envious of the imaginary birds. 

So, I like the bush better than what’s in my hand. 

Cracker Jacks

The text message read: “Well I’ve been just trying to put my firm together and realizing that I only have time for one good woman or nothing at all.  So, I’m just trying to focus, I guess…”

Let’s focus for a few on this statement. Have you ever had a conversation with someone that resonates, neigh reverberates, in your head and heart long after it’s over. The a fore mentioned is one such conversation. I get it. It was a hook-up. Not one of my better decisions but it was a means of escape for a bit so I’m not broken up about it. It was what it was…BUT

“One good woman”. What was he trying to say or imply? I’m not good…or better still there is this phantom idyllic woman who is better suited for his needs. One that he’ll be a “good man” for. Please. Spare me. He wasn’t a good person in general so the “good man” thing is going to be a stretch. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not perfect by any means BUT there was a line wrapped around the door of people who were more than willing to tell me ALL his dirt. I had the cliff notes version of his character (or lack there of) and the story of him (which he thought it prudent to leave in the shadows to add to a persona he thought he had). All this I left at the foot of the bed to try to see what was there…and sadly there was nothing.

So would this “good woman” be smart? Driven? Politically active? See the potential and not the current situation? Cause all of that I was…along with counteracting his convoluted sense of self-importance and immaturity, trying to  optimistically believe that there was something redeemable about him. So is that what “good women” do? To be fair, video vixen I’m not but he wasn’t  a baller so we cancel each other out and its back to intangibles.

Here’s the truth: Our interaction wasn’t about him at all, but about an escape. When you’re sick you look for the quick fixes…and I have a chronic “fear of relationship” syndrome  so you see where I’m going with this. He  made it about him, which in turn makes it about me (or rather my worthiness of him). He was the prize at the bottom of the cracker jack box. Both of which are disappointing…I hate cracker jacks.

All of this comes off angry and bitter, which isn’t what I want to relay. Like I said, I get what he were trying to do…but in the process my ego got bruised…guess I should focus on being a “good woman” before the next cracker jack comes along…damn I hate cracker jacks.

Inspiration

“My inspiration behind writing goes to 3 people actually… And last but not least Natalie Cole Missidioms for always playing devils advocate and challeging me to starting my blog in the 1st place.”

Inspiration is a funny thing. I can see where in the hands of someone completely in love with self, something so small as an argument or a relaying of emotion can seem to inspire words and actions. All I asked for were words, “What would you say to people if you could”. It was a way to make someone who felt helpless and impotent have a voice. What it evolved into was just another means for someone who needs validation to broadcast his lies.

What lies?

“I am vulnerable”  ”I am hurting”  ”I am in search of love and have an infinite amount of love to give” “Still waters run deep”

None of these are true. How could they be? If no one requires authenticity and women just want to coddle you, how can you be real? But like I said, inspiration is a funny thing. I was inspired as well. A lot of what I was inspired to feel or say is here…

http://naturally-iknowright.blogspot.com/

“Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul.”
Thomas Merton

Best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray…

I learned last year that what I had planned for my life mattered less than what was planned for me. (That only makes sense if you realize/accept that your life is not your own).

I planned to move and go to law school. Seemingly small things to ask for, or so I thought, but it led to a disastrous experience that cost me a hell of a lot more than I gained. (It is at this point that someone might chime in the bought sense is the best kind of sense…to which my response: *flips the middle finger*. Say that to me when you have to walk away from a dream back to a life that held no promise of…anything).

So, I came back and fell into a routine of no expectations…no planning…no direction. Beaten down, maybe. Disillusioned, definitely. I just found what little half job I could and started to randomly send resumes to anywhere that was hiring. Friends wondered what my plan was to which my response was, “Don’t have one”. And I was honest about that, I did not have nor was I thinking of a plan. But how long can someone who is accustomed to crossing every “T” and dotting every “I” going to last just letting things come about by chance? A year.

So, I planned. It was simple. Independence. That was my plan. Self reliance. Living on my own again, no fear or doubt. But this time I consulted the ultimate planner. Since it was not my life to make decisions about, asking for guidance was the logical step. I met no resistance…so I forged ahead. But as the title states “Best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray…”

Begin at the beginning…

Let me begin at the beginning…

So I am not sure how is started. Random me seeking something stable. Lonely him, away from home in a foreign country. I was sad but he was the saddest. I needed to be needed and he needed me. The beginning was easy, but the ending not so much. There was intention, on my part, for this to be different. I needed something afar to look forward to, which allowed me to get over my reality.

Happy Birthday GI Joe!

Specifically, he was young. Very young. But he was living this existence…one where he would wake up in a new reality everyday. He did not know what the world was going to be like when he arose in the morning, or who was going to make it through the day with him…whether he was going to make it through the day. The one constant was his mother, his best friend, and me.

A year of altered sleep patterns to fit the schedule of someone across the world. We planned a future of vacations and holidays. Dinners and parties. It was an escape for both of us.  But like I said it did not end well. A year later, he came home and he disappeared. Emotionally and physically.

09′ He was in Iraq

10′ He came home

11′ He is back in Iraq

So question is: Are we back at the beginning?

Break a leg…

If you broke a limb (for the sake of literary license let’s say a leg) and you did not go to a doctor to get it set, what do you think would happen? I think most people would agree that it would heal…not properly of course. But your bones would fuse themselves together again, in a patchwork/makeshift kind of way. You would survive, live to tell the story.

“I think about my friends and how most of them are broken women, in some way or another.” NAC

I came to the conclusion that I was broken. At some point in time I was broken by some action or group of sentences, that lead to a crack in my foundation. I also soon realized that I am healed. Not by some extraordinary means…but I fused myself back together in some makeshift/patchwork sort of way. I think we all have to heal ourselves to be able to get up from rock bottom and keep moving. It is a truth, not something to be analyzed over. It is just something we all have to do.

But what is the proper way to fix a limb/bone/leg/soul that hasn’t healed properly…re-break it? If it were a bone, you would.

Presumptuous

“Flattery gets you everywhere…”

But sometimes (most times) it does not. I am not interested in flattery.

“Hey sexy!” Is not flattering or even cute. I am not interested in those little nothing words that you think get you in good. If you want to talk, talk. I am 30 years old and I am infatuated with the thought of a good conversation. A challenging discourse between two people who allude to spiritual beliefs, life style choices, and even past/present regrets.  That’s what is a turn on to me.

“Hey sexy” “Wats up shorty” “Wat up gurl”

None of these appeal to anyone who is well read or well acquainted with the English vernacular. A “Hello”or even a “Hey” is classic. Genuine. Sincere. Unrehearsed. Natural. No gimmicks or personas. Just real.

When did people stop being real? When did conversation become obsolete? Maybe in a world of 140 characters the idea of a simple greeting is antiquated, and those characters should be used to convey the most information while using the least amount of space (and correct spelling).

But maybe I am being Presumptuous.

A window to the sole?

There is nothing like a great shoe to inspire fits of the imagination…or maybe that’s just me. When I see a shoe that I love I image what clothes I have or need to have to show it off. I build around a great shoe, not the other way around. I think of all the places I can go in that perfect heel…how great my legs are going to look in that perfect heel. Maybe one could even say I build my social life around the perfect heel…Is that wrong?  We all need a little inspiration. Some people have poetry. Others have music. I have the image of me in a great shoe, listening to music and being inspired to write a sonnet. I guess that’s just how I process things.