Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (a.k.a. the shit that comes out of my mouth):
Lyn: Well, I already knew you’re beautiful inside and out, but this makes you positively angelic. Now stop sticking out your tongue and continue to straighten out your halo.
Me: Straighten out my halo? Are you kidding? That thing needs a forge, an anvil and one hell of a beat down to get in any kind of usable shape.
Yesterday morning was one of those “I just can’t get my act together” morns. I was just arriving to the train station I should have been at some thirty minutes ago. That kind of morning.
At the foot of the escalator to the train station, I notice a fellow commuter put something in the hand of a young man standing there. He is asking for money for breakfast. Emphasizing that it really was for food, he was hungry.
By the time I reach him three others with their heads averted have blown past him in the typical New Yorker “invisible beggars are invisible” fashion. Normally, I would be among them, but something about the kid, he could not have been more than thirteen, reaches out to me. Before he starts asking, I have stepped to he side, reaching for my wallet. As I dig in my bag a woman just shy of flies between us, ducking away as though the boy had leprosy. It was beyond rude how she did it. His hurt expression said it all. He clearly didn’t want to be there and she must have been the last straw for him. Head down he started to turn to walk away.
I don’t know what came over me.
“He is still a human being you know!” I yelled up the woman, “May you continue to be blessed in your life so you may never learn what it must take to do this.” The boy and the woman both stopped and looked at me. She was on the escalator, but her expression was murderous as it lifted her away.
“Thank you, miss.” he said, still hurt, accepting the bill I held out without looking at it.
“Enjoy your breakfast honey. You’ll be alright.” I stepped onto the escalator and waited for it…
“THANK YOU MISS! Now I don’t have to share half a McDonald’s with my little sister. I can get cereal and milk and she can have her own. Thank yoooooooou!” I hear him yell, the gratitude in his voice totally free of the hurt.
I look out of the windows as the escalator rose and sure enough he ran across the street to the grocery store. I was already late for work, but once I reach the top, I wait at the side windows. A few minutes later he came out carrying grocery bags with a gallon of milk and what looked like two boxes of cereal, half running up the block. I smile.
“How much did you give him?!” I hear a voice right behind me. I turn and it is the woman I yelled at minutes before.
“Just $5, not enough for all of that. He must have been there for a few minutes asking. You couldn’t even be so bothered as to even look at the child. Did you even realize that was a child? What do you care?” I ask annoyed.
“You reminded me, that I haven’t always been this ‘blessed’. I was coming back to see if he was still here to give him some money.” She takes three dollars out of her purse and hands it to me. “Split what you gave him?”
“Keep it. You’re getting on the subway, there will be other someones who needs it. Give it to them.” I say walking away, but then I stop. “Just do yourself a favor and look the person begging. You may still choose to dismiss 99% of them – just as I know I will, but at least look at them for a moment so you don’t miss the chance of the 1% who will be truly be grateful for it. And you feeling grateful for having to chance to do it.”
As I say the word grateful, I realize I am just as grateful that I took a chance with him. I think about the boy -and the little sister I didn’t know existed until he mentioned her- about to sit down and have some cereal. I don’t know their story, I just know that instead of one split meal, at least for the next couple of days they have breakfast. I am grateful for my small part in that.
I just have one question now: Who the hell is this nice person I am turning into? Ugh!
Got on the train in the midst of a married couple having a major lovers’ spat on the subway. Nasty hygiene, who slept with whom, the whole laundry basket. Everyone around them were interested in their books/tablets/music etc. The desperate were highly engrossed in the subway advertisements farthest down the car.
I could hear them through my ear buds. And yes the iPod was up as loud as I dared after the crap I overheard the other day (my Facebook friends know about it, I’ll spare the rest of you). Still, after a solid 1/2 hour I could not take it any more and screamed at them. “For Christ’s sake, if you can’t get along together at home, stay the hell apart when you’re away from it! You are our *elders*! The ones who are supposed to be our examples of love in longevity and longevity in love. You wonder why we young ones don’t know how to be together? Who the hell are we to learn from when you behave like this?! “
Now mind you, who is a couple of weeks shy being 50? This gal. We young ones? HAH! Boy, was I on mini rant.
They, and several commuters; turned to me stunned. I actually, I was pretty surprised at myself. I sat there fully prepared to be cussed out and put in my place for getting in grown folks business. Because yes, Ma Pot and Pa Kettle Black were well into their 70s.
Surprisingly, after apologizing to everyone within earshot, they did not say another word for about 15 minutes until they disembarked. Then they were all ‘Honey’, ‘Sweetness’, lovey-freaking-dovey. The crazy part is it was clearly as genuine as the arguing earlier.
No matter the age, it’s a thin line indeed…
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These things and more I’m powerless to stop,
Thoughts of you coming unbidden and unblocked,
Enchanting and bewitching, you have captured my soul,
Lost and helpless, my body aches anon with your toll.
Lucius Kane / Unbidden Thoughts
Time’s jests had fooled us all to think of spring
Oh but winter but still had some fight within
Exposed by the elements did bring
Torn umbrellas now tossed into trash bins
The sudden storm made mockery of the thing
Just walking in the rain, garments given to sop
It takes away all pretense of privacy
Our peaked bodies’ crow with immodesty
It is sooner to control the next dew to drop
These things and more I’m powerless to stop
Oh send in the clowns for surely it’s some joke
How thoughts of that day even now make me swoon
And the fire within the memory doth stoke
It moves in from the dark side of the moon
And decorum evaporates like smoke
I watch my resiliency become something to mock
Trapped within my own dreams hot finish
With relief I succumb to my soul’s wish
I suppose by now I should not be shocked
Thoughts of you coming unbidden and unblocked
We’ve known each other since youth, shoes unlaced
And long ago packed away the trappings of such
Do I mistake that your feelings are of even pace?
Or do I project on you that which I do want so much?
For you to yearn for my touch upon more than your face
And there’s naught but one way for this ache to console
For without you I find I can’t breathe none the less
When with you I find I’m completely breathless
When the seeds of patience blossom into reality whole
Enchanting and bewitching, you have captured my soul
I dared not imagine it could ever be like this
That this joy wholly felt I’d even be worthy of
The elation of knowing your sweetest of kiss
Or the love that came from up above
Now just footsteps away from consuming bliss
Your crooked finger beckons in sweet cajole
And I decide there are few sweeter sounds in life
Than heard quote the words that made you my wife
No cost so high of favors – this heart can deny dole
Lost and helpless, my body aches anon with your toll.
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Don’t think about all the things you fear, just be glad to be here
Eyes meet across a noisy, crowed room
Think long, think wrong it’s just for show.
Fire weds desire, emotions in bloom
Don’t over think the moment just go with the flow.
Whose to say that this mutual attraction,
Is just momentary thrill?
Is this another chance you let go in your lifetime?
Or do you do what you will?
Don’t think about all the things you fear, just be glad to be here
Do you want the comfort of a perfect stranger?
Do you feel you’ve known each other all along?
Do you want safety? Do you want danger?
There is no right or wrong.
‘Cause in the morning you may not care.
‘Cause in the morning you may want it all.
It may not go any further from there.
But if you’re to rise, you’ve first got to fall.
Don’t think about all the things you fear, just be glad to be here
Tomorrow may be joy, the day after sorrow,
Don’t fret about what the Fates will allow.
You’ve only got right now.
Only now.
Don’t think about all the things you fear, just be glad to be here
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 109
With a slight nod to FC Kahuna’s “Hayling“.
Let me begin with, I honestly am happy for Kate and William. I am glad the newest prince is healthy. I truly am as happy as I would be for any woman successfully bringing life into this world. However, that is where my empathy/sympathy begins and ends.
I hold my hand up and totally acknowledge my desire to be the total bitch here. You’ve been warned…
So, Catherine (Kate) Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge, had a baby…
Yay, we’re celebrating the business of royal marital arrangements a.k.a. your womb is mine a.k.a. what’s love got to do with it?
Yeah, I said it.
They had a year and a half of time to themselves as man and wife. Most of it spent introducing the new bride to the rest of the free world. Well, as much time as a young couple can have when heirs to the monarchy of one of the most prosperous of the first-world nations that is, but eventually the honey moon period is over. Duties await and what is a new royal wife’s first royal duty? – why to be an heir making apparatus of course. Don’t kid yourself, Kate performed her royal duty to the Crown and popped out an heir as fast as not-so-little Willie could pump one in her. I’m giving them three years max before Royal Tot #2 is out. After all, there must be a royal back-up baby in case, well, you know…. Royal Tot #2 can ask good ol’ Uncle Harry about how always being 2nd best feels, once he or she gets here.
So, Princess Catherine had a baby…
So did blank.blank million other women yesterday. Are we globally Facebooking and Tweeting about all of them? I didn’t think so. I wonder how many of the imminent-to-be mothers were thinking ‘Ooh my baby is born on the same day!”? Oh come on, you know some of the ones in British territories did, or they will once they learn of the coincidence. I’m guessing the rest of the women in the world, whose contracting wombs, widening canals, separating hips and ripping perineum were likely too preoccupied. I could be wrong.
So, Kate Middleton had a baby…
Mind you, I fully comprehend the British interest in such; after all she is their princess. I’ll even branch it out to Europe in general as they are all nearby neighbors of the monarchy such as it is, so love thy neighbor and such. What I don’t get is the American fascination with such so that nearly every other status post in Facebook and Twitter tweets are still yapping on about the royal birth. Hmm, I wonder what Kate would about all those who are playing the baby’s birth date or weight/length and other such factoids at the numbers/lotto/horse race?
I feel as though I am the only hard-nose, heartless wretch not wearing the “Awww the prince and princess had a baby!” rose-colored glasses in this.
So Kate had a baby…
She’s fine? Yes. The baby’s fine? Yes. Okay then. What’s for lunch…?
You WERE warned…
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I’m feeling good…
Good like the cool rain taking the heat out of a sultry day
Like the breeze causing my skirt to gently sway
In that zany, loopy fun kind of cray
Good like finding a long-lost favored ring
A walk in the park the first days of spring
On a hot day, a sip of some cool fruity thing
Good like cutting with the Little Joker in Spades
Knowing I still have the big one to be played
Hiding the gleam in my eyes behind some shades
Oh, I’m feeling good.
For I’ve spent way too many days with my smile lying
Fake laughing to cover how my heart was crying
In a world not even close to caring how my soul was dying
And too long I let others tell me how I should be
But never was it ever what I knew I could be
So now I only work on what is it good to me
Now that’s not saying I’m not feeling for my brothers set adrift
Or lost my empathy for my sisters getting the short shrift
Or that I don’t care about our socio and economic rift
Because sometimes the world makes me wanna holla from that stress
And like Marvin I want to know what’s going on with this mess and…
Excuse me, I digress…
Where was I?
Yeah, but right now? I’m feeling good!
Good like looking the mirror and loving the sight
Whether in silks by day or leathers by night
When I know I’ve got it all together so tight
Good enough to wear a mini in a skinny crowd
Not hide my beauty in some mumu or shroud
Head high, gut forward, loud and proud
And yes, sometimes it comes to pass
That there are those who chose to lambast
For they have a problem with my fat ass
But I’m not the one that’s going to obsess
And with each bite of food reassess and…
Oh excuse me again, I digress…
I am feeling good!
Good like having a day that started with doubt
But then proving I do know what I’m about
And later catching someone fine checking me out
That kind of good that can only come from within
That sneaky good I feel when I’m about to sin
With the one that gives me more than just a grin
The good of being in the zone
When my voice takes on that tone
Like the sound of a pleasured moan
Good like when I get that feeling of that special caress
From the hand slipping slowly under my dress and…
Damn, did it again, huh? My bad… Excuse me… I digress…
But no, y’all just don’t understand! I’m feeling good!
The giddy with friends that’s fondly tolerated
The kind of good that’s always celebrated
Where those near can’t help be feel elevated!
Feeling like Joy has answered my speed dial!
Good like not a thing on this earth can cramp my style
Good like the strength of my strut, the gleam of my smile
Good for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m able
To handle the crap still left on my mental table
Feeling a good, that’s so good, that I a poet can’t even label!
Umph – that kind of good!
And yeah I know I can’t sing it as Nina would, but
Birds flying high, you know how I feel
Sun up in the sky, you know how I feel
Leaves drifting on by, you know how I feel
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me and…
I’m feeling GOOD!
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Feeling good about dVerse ~ Poets Pub’s | OpenLinkNight : Week 104
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Not sure when it happened, horrifies me that it happened without my noticing, but suddenly I am terrified of reaching – truly reaching and risking – for the things I want.
A friend recently posted the above as her Facebook status. The below is my response…
Breathe. You slipped into a moment of complacency. It happens to all of us. Perhaps you needed the break for a moment, but it’s lasted too long and now you’re aware. Rest is over hon, time to get your life in gear again.
Breathe. It is a little more terrifying than the first you put your faith in His hands, while taking your guts in yours and leaped, because then you didn’t think anything could slow your forward motion. Now you know things can if you’re not paying attention and be vigilant, so it does not go too far again. Moreover, you know you had the faith/guts to start this path before, you will and find it again.
Breathe. Stop worrying about the endgame for a moment. What is the very first step you need to accomplish to set you on your path again? Focus on that, complete it, reassess, and focus on that next.
Breathe. How can you ever fail as long you’re ever trying to move forward and so many of us have your back? I’ll let you guess what final word of my heartvice to you will be. You can begin with that…
For an admitted Snark Queen, every now and then, even I surprise myself…
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Another Wave Waltz.
It was my third week back at work after my husband’s passing. Still early in my path of grieving, the okay days were the ones spent staying one step ahead of the tears in want of falling at any given moment. The better days were the ones I got through simply by rote. This particular day was a cross between the two and only I knew why. Thus, it was something of a surprise when early in the afternoon a flower delivery guy stops at my desk. My mind was understandably elsewhere and it took a moment for it even register that the flowers were for me.
I remember being perturbed as I signed for them. I was thinking who in their right mind would send me condolence flowers, at work, a solid month after the fact. I mean what else could they be? And why today of all days? I open the box to reveal two dozen red roses in a silver vase. They were lovely and smelled heavenly. After getting fresh water and arranging them, I finally read the card that came with it.
Because you thought I never would –Posslq
I loved my husband dearly, but it was a running point of contention/running joke between us on how he was not a flowers giving kind of guy. The compromise being that I received flowers on Mother’s Day and Valentine’s Day; that was it. And that was the way it remained. Still, in our nearly twenty years together, never had he sent flowers to work for any reason, until that day.
The signature “Posslq” -pronounced “poss-el-que”- stood for People of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters. It was something we got from the late Andy Rooney of “60 Minutes” fame, where in his not quite jokingly curmudgeon way stated the IRS should add POSSLQ to the Married/Single/Head of Household options on the annual tax forms, to reflect couples who live together, but are not married. We had turned it into a silly term of endearment for each other, which we had stopped using, quite correctly, once we married. It is the only reason I knew they were from him, as no one else would have known we called each other that. I then knew why they arrived on that specific day – it was our wedding anniversary.
I learned later on in the day, after a few phone calls, that he made the arrangements for the flowers the Friday before he died. The guy at the florist shop remembered him and how he was making jokes about messing with his wife (me), on a random whim. None of which was surprising at all to those who have had the pleasure/torture of knowing my late-husband. But at that moment the incredulous reality of it set in and I burst into laughter.
I had not laughed that hard, that sincerely, since before my husband passed. One of my co-workers popped his head over the low barrier of out joined cubicles. He was smiling, happy to see me laughing and wanted to know what was so funny, so I told him. “My dead husband just sent me flowers for our anniversary.” Suffice it to say, that wiped the smile from his face, which made me laugh even more. I explained it to him and then he understood. Granted it took some convincing before he would believe that I really was all right; that my laughter was not from hysteria and I was not about to lose all it in the middle of the office floor.
My husband was the reason I lost my laughter. It made perfect sense to me he was the reason I got it back. Surprisingly, and yet not, I really was okay with it. Now, seven years after his passing, there’s always a twinge of the bittersweet in my smile when I use that vase.
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Daily Post: Bittersweet Memories
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Raivenne-lations 