Tag Archives: life

At Last

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It was a fantastic spring day,sunny with the occasional perfect whit cotton candy cloud the break the perfect blue sky. My sister and I had spent an afternoon of strolling around downtown and not quite window shopping as we caught up on news and gossip that somehow missed our various communications.  We had just taken outside seat a café when we saw him, coming out of a side door of the same cafe.

Yes, that him.

He was donning sunglasses as he came out, Looking as haughty as ever. Looking as good as ever.

My heart dropped a beat. Several beats in fact. My sister saw my face, turned  to look and let out a curse. Yeah, it was like that. We had a thing once.  No, that’s not correct. I had a thing. No, that’s not correct either.

We were both going for our doctorate and wound up in a lot of the same circles together with mutual friends until we became friends ourselves.  Good friends. And then I made the cardinal sin. I fell for him. And it was bad. Really bad. And he knew it. I never said a thing to him, but I know he knew.  He never said a thing to me but I knew long before I fell that I would never be someone he would love like that, yet deep inside I had hoped. Still, because I am a glutton for Punishment 101, I lied and said we’re just friends we continued to hang out. We hung out so much at one point some people thought we were a couple.  He was always gentle, but damn quick to say we were just friends.

Naturally it had to blow up and blow up it did. The argument was ugly and my heart was torn asunder like nothing I had ever imagined could hurt so bad. My only solace was that the semester was over and I didn’t have to see him for the summer.  Then fall arrived and fate cruel continued placing us in the same circles. It was agony. I gave up all social contact with everyone then and poured it all into my school work, finishing my studies, my thesis everything.

That was over a year ago. That was over a year ago and this doctor eventually healed herself. Enough to not want to cry at the thought of his name.  Enough to be able to talk about him with my sister and even laugh. With he and I no longer  travelling so many of the same circles any more, I even healed enough to be able to idly chat with him on the occasions our paths do crossed.

A woman came out behind him donning her own sunglasses. I recognized his fiancé immediately as we had at an even a month or so agao. He turned, saw me smiled and waved. And I’ll be damned if a shaft of sunlight didn’t find him at that instant, with a soft breeze blowing through his hair. And for a moment I was back in time, back to when things were good, when he and I were together, but not.  It felt so good for a moment and then reality rushed back into place. My heart broke again for the briefest moment. It was the oddest bittersweet feeling, like feeling homesick for a place that doesn’t exist.  And much to my sister’s surprise I laughed as I waved back actually happy for him.

I really was in a good spot at last.

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My hand at trying Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday. The prompt was based on an image, but the quote that came with the image struck me more and I went with that.

#FWF – Free Write Friday – Image Prompt

Over

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So readily you sway to my sweet wile
And though we warn believe not all you see
I gaze at you enchanted by your smile

We tell each other truths to some degree
Yet in those truths we bury many lies
The veil well-worn over hypocrisy

Secure in all the ways that we devise
To keep our sadness hidden it is true
We smile and laugh, knowing it for disguise

But yet the truth does find ways to seep through
When the façade finally starts to fall
We’ll pay the piper with the penance due

The cold and bitter truth has come to call
That this marriage is over after all

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Trying my hand at a Terza Rima Sonnet for dVerse

dVerse Poets Pub | Form for All : Terza Rima and Terza Rima Sonnet

In The Spirit

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The passionate call of the joined heart beat
Felt long past when the heart was nubile
The feeling of spring’s first blooms so sweet
The old memory that still makes me smile
It’s the urge at a concert to just weep
The comfort at night when I fall asleep

The piece that’s with me wherever I roam
In the spirit of land, of heart, of home

The knowing when it’s my time to let go
After countless days and nights on this earth
A song on the end of the world I know
That began playing since the day of my birth
As my Deity holds my life in sway
I am drenched peace, as though it’s my last day

For I know I’ve lived the best way I can
In the spirit of love to fellow man

The not so free will that brings me to here
Those voices of guidance to go or to wait
Gifts of inner light to make the dark clear
Past lessons that leads me to paths straight
The persons I feel when no one is there
When needed their presence snakes through the air

Their hands go right through me like ghosts and walls
In the spirit of the ancestral call

A coat of many colors dark and fair
Sometimes it is sparse, sometimes it flows free
Those are my scarves and my rings that I wear
The glow of words that accessorize me
The trifle of rhyme that falls just right
The feeling that haunts “post this tonight”

Paint, pencils, pens and pixels I use
In the spirit of the magic I call Muse

The delightful joy I can’t put into words
The raw anger growing above the din
The most quiet of calm I’ve ever heard
The connection of love with my close kin
The slow chill of knowing hell’s on its way
The warm glow of just being, that needs no say

And it’s to my core when I feel it
In the spirit of living in the spirit
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar: Your Voice–Let’s Hear It!

The Weighing In Of Opera

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Buzzfeed.com had an interesting post on “What Happened To Opera”.  True to Buzzfeed’s style the article, while somewhat tongue-in-cheek, makes a damn good point  and gets extra kudos for the Bugs Bunny reference.

While the opera productions have become bigger, grander, the singers themselves have not, at least not size wise.   Here in America, as well as in other Western social minds,  the fat body is considered unhealthy, abnormal, something to be ashamed of, not the socially accepted form of what is sexy.

Many opera companies, especially the smaller ones, struggle economically. And apparently think the solution is to behave like popular music labels and play up the sexuality of their leading stars.  Singer Deborah Voigt, a leading dramatic soprano, was famously fired years ago for being too fat to portray a role as the stage director at that time had envisioned it.  Voigt was eventually reinstated after she lost the weight through gastric band surgery. Yes, she states it was for her own health reasons, but no one can be blamed for the unspoken wink, wink, nudge, nudge  that goes with it.  Erstwhile mega operatic superstars such as Norman and Sills and Pavarotti would likely be hard pressed to keep their standing in this new aesthetic. This goes beyond mere fat-phobia into an analysis of appearance in music and theater that is depressing.

If the saying “It ain’t over ’till the fat lady sings” were to held to its truth, it would likely mean the death knell for opera.  As with everything else there are exceptions to the rule, those whose amazing voices transcend the benchmark.  Still,  even those exceptions are growing smaller and smaller and not just in size.

It’s sad, but unfortunately true. Opera used to be solely about the singing.  Now not only must the singers have the most amazing voices for the parts, they now must have the looks to go with them and therein lies the rub. There was ad campaign which queried  “What is sexy”.   And let’s face it, in this climate, the de rigueur definition of  sexy = skinny.

The beloved image fat, horned-helmet Valkyrie, belting out Wagner, pretty much synonymous with opera, will eventually be as obsolete as the Beta-max.  There are such amazing singers out there whose voices  may never be heard because of this downsizing and we will never know our loss.

Contented

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Sun
Dappled
Shimmering
Full of promise
With daylight dawning

Tears
Are done
I know this
Down to my core
As I stretch yawning

So
I rise
Contented
Feel my soul smile
In this new morning

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Welcome to the Arun.

A nonce poem created by friend and fellow blogger, GirlGriot. An Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements.  Though all of hers, so far, were left aligned and not rhymed, I took a little poetic license here.

dVerse  Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 113

Happy Birthday Willie Shakes

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Just this morning I quoted “all the world’s a stage” to a friend. A discussion ensued which wound up with us using Google to prove I was right in that the line was from “As You Like It” and not from “Love’s Labour Lost”. That in turn became a discussion of just how Shakespeare’s words have infiltrated our lives.

Few of us get through the education system without gleaning some basic knowledge of the man, well at least a couple of his works. Even if one cannot quote any other line from say, Hamlet; even if one does not know the name of the tragedy itself, one is still familiar with “…to be or not to be…”  I still remember the magical moment in fourth grade upon realizing wherefore actually meant why and how that one little thing completely changed the context of “…wherefore art thou Romeo?”. It taught me to always look deeper than the words on the page, because as Led Zeppelin perfectly states ’cause you know sometimes words have two meanings. Still, thanks to my southern upbringing, I knew what being “a sorry sight” meant long before I ever heard the name William Shakespeare and was destined to enjoy more of his magical verbiage.

Think about it. Most of his words which we quote without thought, were written for plays – for mere entertainment. Think about how so much of it has transcended from Elizabethan times to now, without one iota of loss in their overall meanings. Talk about staying power! Many of us remember little of what we’re taught regarding the actual history of those times. Well, little of history in general, to be honest. Yet all of us quote him more than we can ever imagine, even if we do not realize the words are his.

I’ll quote someone else for a moment and paraphrase Edward Bulwer-Lytton: the might of the pen, indeed!

In the midst of the above mentioned Google search I also discovered today, April 23rd, is William Shakespeare’s birthday.

Willie Shakes, as I quite tongue-in-cheekily like to refer to the Bard, would be 449 years old. In honor of the man who likely has had the biggest influence on many of the colloquialisms that continue to spice our language I post the following:

Shakespeare Words

* click to see full size *

Happy 449th Birthday William Shakespeare!!

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old”
— Shakespeare Sonnet 104
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Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 23, 2013

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hey Mami

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Verbal Diarrhea Diaries

(aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).

On being addressed as a female progenitor by people, other than the two I actually gave birth to, one time too many:

Him: Hey Mami

Me (annoyed): I am not your mother!

Him (surprised): But it’s just a term of endearment.

Me (eyes rolling): You just laid eyes on me for the first time in your life. I have yet to become an endearment for you to have a term to. It’s rude and an insult to all the women who are mothers, who have put in the work and earned the title.

Him (fishing): Maybe it just means on first sight I think you’ve got what it takes to love and take care of me.

Me (incredulously): Really?

Him (thinking he gained a point): Yeah.

Me (evil smile): So on first sight you think I’ve got what it takes…?

Him (cocky): Yeah.  To cook, clean and  all that good stuff, like a mother would.

Me (trying not to be mean, but failing):  And occasionally whip your ass?

Him (back peddling): No, that’s not what I meant, I…

Me (totally nonplussed at his ignorance by now): And is there’s some Oedipal history I should be aware of?

Him (clueless): What kind of history…?

Me (in full on evil mode): newsflash boy, because most men know better, when it comes to the majority of females you meet on the street addressing us by the title of the first woman whose vagina you came sliding out of, is not considered a compliment to the woman whose vagina you’re trying to slide into. Good-bye.

Want to guess what term of endearment was heard as I walked away? Hint: It rhymes with mucking witch.

Me (not even bothering to turn around): Thank you!
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Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 16, 2013

Being Human

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A chance design, or all His will?
I wonder still.
Holy? Profane? Scared? Obscene?
What does it mean?
Living each day the best we can,
Being human,
From birth to death each single span.
Combination of what we feel,
And all the ways in which we deal?
I wonder still, what does it mean, being human?

A new Oviellejo to ponder as you wander…

I sat here this morning bemoaning my current bout of insomnia and how it is taking finally its toll on me today. Cranky from lack of rest. Jittery from the excessive amounts of caffeine I’ve already consumed to get me through this day. A day that still has several more long hours in it before I can lay my head to rest and hope I can get some decent sleep tonight.

And then a friend posted a link: 40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

To directly quote from the article “A moving collection of iconic photographs from the last 100 years that demonstrate the heartbreak of loss, the tremendous power of loyalty, and the triumph of the human spirit. Warning: Some of these will make you weep.”

I first saw this article when it came out last year. Some of the photographs will at least give you pause, it got to me then. As I went through these photographs again today, I realize nothing has changed. I felt that same sense of kin. For people from my own country and abroad. I find myself not just sympathetic, but empathetic to so many of them. People I never have and/or never will meet. Their raw moments of joys, pains, fears, courage.

I am reminded once more of the beautiful fragility that is the human element.

And oddly enough, I am suddenly wide awake and no longer cranky. Perspective is everything.

Here’s passing on a little of that perspective for your day:

Seriously, before clicking the link down below, if you’re consuming any food or beverage, put it down. In addition you may want to have a napkin/tissue at the ready for any cryi– I mean for any grit that may get stuck under your eyelid.

40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

Updated to add: I suspect a certain photo of a man in a cowboy during the aftermath of the bombings at the Boston Marathon will be added to this list soon.

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Open Link Night — week 92

Unpacking

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“I need to stop looking away and unpack my own reaction.”

My fellow blogger and friend, GirlGriot used that gem to describe her gut reaction to something. You can read all about it here.

I was telling a few friends a story of a crazy event that occurred over a year ago. I’ve told this story to several different friends over time, in the same way so I was not thinking about it as i told this group. At least I wasn’t thinking about it until a friend called me out on a racist comment that flew out of my mouth. I took a mental step back for a moment, but she was right. What I had said, even jokingly, was racist. I know it was a not-so-charming stereotype learned from my mother, among other places where such stereotypes are fostered, while I growing up. Still, I had not realized how deep that nasty little bug had dug in it came flying out.

As I said, I’ve told this story before to others in the same manner. I can’t decide if no one else ever noticed it before, or if they had, chose not to say anything. Neither option sits well with me, but the latter especially galls me. Once called on it, I owned up to it, because it was what it was. I know my friends know me better than that. What scares me is that it has been there all this time and I even I had not noticed to check myself.

I’m left wondering what other nasty little deep-rooted gems are waiting to come out and bite me. I’m praying that if it’s something I don’t notice, that it does not take over a year before I’m called out on it.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Traction

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I tend to be very flippant verbally. I know, go figure!  Still, every now and then, something flies out of my mouth where even I have to stop and admire the genius/stupidity/brazenness of the moment. I already share these on Facebook under the heading of Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).  I’ve decided I’ll also post some of them here to share the spontaneous insanity that is my mind with you.

So, I have a running joketationship with the cutie that works behind the counter at one of my favorite coffee shops by my job. Last week he made the mistake of saying that no one makes him blush as I do. I took that as a challenge.

Me (upon seeing him at the register): Hi Z!
Him: Hi Raivenne!
Me: Hello my love, my dove, mon Cherie amour, my little cheese danish…

The two ladies who also work with him, and are quite used to my silliness, start laughing as he grins, knowing it’s only going to get worse while he takes my order.

Him (preparing to pass my purchase to me): Is there anything else you’d like ?
Me (salaciously): You – à la Mode?
Him (laughing and shakes his head): I don’t know about the ice cream, I’m kind of a hairy guy…
Me (not missing a beat): Ooh, traction!
Him (mouth momentarily agape, full on red face, before laughing and raising his hand in high-five to me): Wow, you win.
Me (matter of fact): Of course I do.

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Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

Slice of Life Weekly Challenge (Two Writing Teachers)