Friday, January 27, 2012

When it hits you in the face...

Out of sight, out of mind, only seems to work with things not directly linked with your heart.  Have you ever noticed that?  Reality checks on the other hand, out of sight, out of mind, easily attained.  The mind, it is a powerful thing...quickly forgeting the fire inside us to make a change.  You amnesia live the abilities in you to make a difference, look at your strengths dead in the eye, then reside in synchrony with the possibility that everything might have fallen into place if you had just made the effort.  Why do we continue to allow that monotonous debate in our mind to monarch real estate?  Maybe if we hadn't been so preoccupied, superimposing ourself at the finish line with a smile on our face would be attainable and a direct remnant of the decision to follow through on our capabilities.

Lori and I had lunch the other day, and the opportunity to live out my purpose was born.  For a brief moment, for that entire lunch date, my heart had wrapped my mind into the idea that I was capable of making an actual difference.  It is very beautiful you know, when you surrender your mind to your heart.  That moment when you decide that the happy medium you were taught to live under disappears, because you allow the spirit inside you to take over.  I have freed myself from the out of sight and out of mind truth that in reality has been lying to me my entire life.  Turns out your mind isn't such a terrible thing to waste, just depends on who you give it to, or in my case, what. 

Saturday, January 7, 2012

out of force or sheer enjoyment...

I was at our kitchen table last night, Marcus had the cutting board out, Stella Artois on the counter, a knife in his hand, veggies on the verge of slaughter, and although the stove was near steam, it was my heart that was warming up.  I am pretty bummed that my phone is letting me down, the mouse on it comes in and out, and it just plain sucks.  It got me once again thinking about our trip to Chicago, and how damn witty I can be.  Is it bad to type out that I might be just a bit in love with myself?  Look, I have never been slender, as a matter of fact, I've always been over weight, even at my smallest, by BMI standards, I have always been obese.  Yea, I said it, OBESE.  But, never have I felt gross, sure I felt overweight, and wished that I could strut around without a sarong on the beach, but I always thought I was FINE.  I look in the mirror and "damn" myself often.  As a matter of fact, when I was getting in the shower the other day just before work, naked, I was staring at the mirror and posing, as if Hef himself was my outdated fixtures and I was a current model to be reckoned with.  What is wrong with me?  Or the ladder, what is right?  When I was single and I would go out, I always knew that I would get attention, I always felt amazing.  Any man that I have ever "wanted", I got.  Listen to me.  Sad?  Or good?  Sometimes I feel that the over indulgent love that I have for myself is my hearts overworked endogenous way of fulfilling something in me that I don't really get exogenously. 

You all know Marcus, and how much I love him, how I feel that I am the luckiest girl in the world, but one thing my sweet man is not the best at, is giving me love the way I know to receive it best.  Marcus is always there for me, if I ask him for ANYTHING, done...if I need him to "fix it", done...if I need him to satisfy me in the bedroom, done...on that note, have you ever had an orgasm so good it could have the potential to hurt, it's that intense?  I have, and have them often, it's that done...however, the everyday "touch" acknowledgements I need, not so done.  A very long time ago, my mom gave me a book called, "the five love languages", and back then I put major stock in that book, it rang true, resonated as relationship gospel, and you know if something is in pure parallel with what you already believe, then bam, it's over.  The book emphasizes the differences people have in the way that they feel most loved.  How when you love someone, and you give love, you are demonstrating it in the way you would like it given to you.  I'm a big "touch" person, it means so much to get it, and feel most loved when I do.  Touching me means much more than if you swept the floor, or cooked me dinner.  And this book describes all the different ways, how you fall into 1 of 5 or a combo of the 5 ways, how crucial it is for your partner to learn the way you receive love, and how true success comes only after the both of you deliver it to one another in "their" way.  That way of thinking has consumed me my entire "old enough to think on my own" life.  Caused many a fight between us two, and the texture of the request isn't the same when repeated often.  Oh marriage, compromise, just doesn't have the same meaning unless you are married.  Here is the truth people, as a parent, compromise officially takes a new form, and the butter that spreads easier is learning to slice the bread with a different knife.  Your kid has no way to know that you love it when you're touched, or that possibly crawling past you to get a toy while intentionally swiping by your leg is what will brighten your day.  They just know how to exist.  It is up to us to see in them the love that he/she has the capability to give.  You have to learn their gestures, adopt their method, and soak in it.  Why can't I apply that to my partner in life?  Will my relationship with my child be doomed, because he doesn't love me the way I am comfortable with?  Absolutely not.  Shame on me for putting that level of importance on having my love tank suffer because my selfish way of thinking pressures my husband to relearn a method that is so uncomfortable for him.  He loves the shit out of me, daily, and it has taken me becoming a parent to see that. Screw me for not learning to receive love in the many forms it exists.  Love isn't a one dimensional self inflicted handicap, it's a transforming, many level, tons of flavor dish, and thanks to Adan my heart steams at the sight of many things.  Below is my heart brewing with warmth over my eyes ability to transform simple images into touchable forces for my soul.
Aunt Sylvia soaking up a little love for herself
Halo's for both of these boys
If a picture could talk...luckily for you, I do, and all I'm saying is...LOVE LOVE LOVE
He'll take your money, but not before he steals your heart
Easy on the eyes, effortless in my soul
Cowtown fun
As my days fill with time, and my heart fills with you
How can I fight this feeling of truth.
Not seeing the love that you had just for me,
Blinded by selfish injustice that seethes.
It's obvious to some, but not to the ones
that surrender only their mind to their love.
For it's with your heart that my soul belongs
abundantly living, emotionally strong.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

let me just mention...

It's not how you were raised that makes you who you are.  It is how you cope with situations in your life growing up that mold you.  I don't even believe that the way you cope is something that can be learned.  I truly believe that it is innate in us, that you either instinctively and depending on your efficacy of reflex, fists up or hovering under, are your two choices.  Am I naive enough to think there are only two types of people in this world?  No.  Those two choices, buffered by high school, polished by relationships, sanded down by college, etc...evolve into modified versions, resulting in by products of it's origin.  It is modifications and tweeks within those two that make up our circle of comfort.

I have two sisters, we grew up with the same two parents, same household, same life normal/typical child rearing ways. And we are so extremely different, the statement, "it's not even funny" does not even slightly do it justice.  It's pretty obvious who I am, because you can see me right away, transparency is my middle name and the lack of filter is my first.  The common denominator in most of the conflicts I find in my life is me.  However, is it because I pick and choose my battles poorly, or is it because my fists are always up?  If I hovered, by default the conflict would always belong to you. reflection only gives you the ability to have a platinum memory, and I'm looking to maintain my bronze memory, that way I can frequently forget the people who hate me.

Remember my fancy desire to have a memorable New Years?  Something real pearl clinching worthy?  Well, I got the comfort of my own home.  We, as in Marcus, had it all planned out.  Sir Richard, remember him?  He came into town, again, and the itinerary was in full force.  Fancy dinner, because that's what we do...Fancy party, with a Fancy dress...Fancy dancing and Fancy cocktails...all for the bargain price of a Fancy Benjamin.  It never lego'd together just right, sure the blocks were starting to stack, and the tower was mighty high, but the click wasn't audible, and we reserved a table for "whoever wanted to show up" at our house.  Last minute, Ese'me Street catered a party and it was fun.  The kind of fun you remember.  The kind of fun that moves me to alliteration.  My the form of memorable and impressive indentions deriving palpability (my word), accessible in these exclusive 4x6 "time stoppers".
Who is this Pinterest, and why are they at my party's?
A few of our VIPs
Remember undershooting,'s overshooting for ya?
Ludacris showing up, incarnated in Jennifer Lewis form, then finding out you are "sorta" related to your unit pharmacist...big plus
It was the best of times, with the best of unexpected surprise was reason enough to keep Adan around
And yes, this completely solidifies the horrendous person that is our neighbor.  Remember her?  The one that pushes me to the brink of human bowling her children.
Did not want it any other way...about the biggest adult slumber party I've ever seen...and hosted

My husband and I were on our back patio/porch just winding the night down between us, and talking about our blessed 2011, and how we must remain faithful in 2012, no matter what trials we happen to be up against.  We have to stay true and faithful.  We have been blessed beyond belief this last year, and sometimes when it's that good, the human in us/me, doubts my future in anticipation of "something bad must happen next".  Do I honor that to be a truth, in my soul, I DO NOT.  But I would be lying if it didn't swim around and cause a mental hurricane from time to time.  Not 30 mins later, while planning out a photography class with my friend Ceci, and not boring you with all the details of what was the "wreck", we had our home shattered.  Luckily for us, Marcus and I did not go down the victim path, or let this incident end our night, much less start our new year with anything other than happiness.  We believe that through our trials, we are drawn very close to our Lord, and it is in clearing the rubbage that we allow him to truly be our Saviour.