Muse

Alone in my head in the summer of 95,
I purchased a box to play the sounds of escape
in the rhythm of lyrics and passion.

Leaning on the moulding of my bedroom door,
gazing toward the bed of piled
unfolded laundry, screaming for more.

Sipping a newfound latte,
with Madonna in the tape deck,
as she had been for 12 damn years;
stories of longing landed.
---
I only mention this now,
as I realize this was the beginning of a me
beyond the bad that had swallowed the key.

Funny how we wallow in a song
we perceive as a wrong
done, rather than a life to come
in a wakening sun.

Until Recently

I live in North Carolina; and therefore, I am living under the new HB2 legislation (a.k.a. bathroom bill).

Over the last 7 or 8 months, since the popularity of Trump style bullying has gripped certain pockets of America, and this recent fear based legislation (I won't call it hate based, as I think this type of discrimination is based more on fear and ignorance than hate), the quality of my life has changed.

I love Sheetz. (Does everyone know what a Sheetz is? It's a gas station/convenience store/deli, super charged). I couldn't tell you why I love Sheetz, other than the fact that there are a lot of them around here, and so it's convenient -- hence the description, convenience store. Plus, I can have all of the free ice I want for my ice water addiction, all fountain drinks, no matter if I'm a little thirsty or a glutton, are 99¢, and I do like a hot dog now and then.  Most other people that are crowding the Sheetz are there for much of the same reasons, I suspect.  

Lately, I have had some experiences with some guys who look like they might be construction workers, or some sort of outside road crew workers. These particular guys I have had interactions with are, what I'd call, your white, young, lower middle class guys. My experience with these guys is that their values are, typically, conservative, but they are generally always polite, southern gentlemen, until recently.

Let me tell you a bit about me before I continue.  I am a middle aged female who is a bit on the heavy side. Okay. I’m heavy. Whatever! I haven't had a guy hit on me since my early thirties. For the record, I happen to be a lesbian --on the "butch" side-- so the "treat" of a guy's attention hasn't been missed.

I’ve only recently, in the last 15 years or so, become more comfortable in my skin, and am living a truer existence… in other words, I’m not as feminine as I used to be. At first glance, people mistake me for a sir, often, and I have sometimes gotten a second look by women going into the restroom, I guess because, if I'm only given a quick glance, I could be mistaken for a dude.  However, I have never been harassed, or treated with disrespect, until recently.

Within the last few months at Sheetz, one guy literally knocked into me, and whispered, "dyke" under his breath at me. Another time, I was holding the door for a guy, and he refused it. He walked right by me and said, "Nope," and opened the other door himself. A few weeks ago, a guy who is on the feminine side, went into the Sheetz, and was grabbing a cup to get a Slurpee (or the Sheetz equivalent), and was told by one of these guys, that "[he] needed to prance on out of there."

I don't blame Sheetz for this shift, but believe me when I say, there has been a shift, and this animosity is coming from people who are visibly fearful, and they feel they are warranted and clearly, in the right. Why? Because of laws like HB2, and leaders who "model" behaviors. These laws, and someone like Trump, instill fear, superiority, and aggressiveness in people. Each and every time it has happened to me or I've witnessed it, I feel shocked and surprised that this is happening.  

I knew this type of behavior existed.  I remember the treatment that my adopted mama, who happens to be black, received in public when we were out together. I remember the direction given to me by my white supervisors of a department store, to follow any black or brown person who entered the store.  I heartedly believe it was because of the laws that were on the books, and from the behavior of our leaders. It's disheartening.

My experience with this shift is not limited to the Sheetz with sweaty, dirty, white guys buying hot dogs and soda pop.

I am starting Law School in the fall, and as such, I need some professional attire. I have almost no money, so shopping is a bit stressful, as I try on a lot of things, and buy very little.  As I said, I am a bit of a butch. If I had my dithers, I wouldn't wear clothing specific for men or women, but that option doesn't exist, at least not within my budget.  My tastes in clothing are along the lines of Ellen DeGeneres, and of Glenn Close in the television series, Damages.  In order to get that look, I have to shop for some of my items in the men’s department. This is something I have done for the last 15 years or so, as I have gotten more comfortable in my own skin.  I have never, not once, had a problem, until recently.

One sales associate, an older African American woman, chased me across the store chanting, "Sir!" in a frantic, panicked voice.  I paid her no mind, as I didn't think she was "siring" me.  But after I got into the dressing room, and hung my items on the hook, there was a knock on the door. "Sir?"  I replied, "May I help you?" in my non sir voice, of course.  She recoiled, stating, "Oh ---- I just wanted to make sure you were in the correct dressing room. I hear that it appears you are."

In another store, a white, 30 something, female customer froze when I walked into the dressing room, obviously disturbed.  Within minutes, someone was knocking on the door asking, "I just wanted to check to see if someone is in here."  I answered, in my non sir voice again, and she walked away feeling assured that she was protecting people's rights, and that all of the social norms are going as they should.

Now, I know I'm not the only gender, non-confirming person who has been subject to this shift, because I see others going through it too. And I know that men that are not masculine enough have faced ridicule for a very long time.  And, I'm well aware that of all the marginalized folks, I am one of the last ones to become a part of this wave of ignorance that is sweeping America. People, all the way back to the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, have suffered great harm due to laws, ignorance, and leaders who guided the collective thought. Those who came to America who were not white, straight, and protestant, have suffered, tragically. And the slaves, OH MY GOD, the slaves...

I am merely another addition to the long list of folks "to be afraid of," and in turn, I am afraid.

With the rise in popularity of bills such as HB2, and the rise of the orange, scary, bully, Donald Trump, I am fearful of what is to become of the Country I love, which has overcome and grown so much over the last hundred years or so, albeit, slowly. Over the next 5 months, or longer if, God forbid, Trump wins -- it will all be for nothing. This growing animosity towards anyone who is not white, and a cis-male, will bring us back to a mentality of the early twentieth century—only worse—because we know better now, or should.

I hear people saying, "trust in the American people, and know Trump will not win." Trust in the American people? If only. I thought I could, until recently.

-->

Altar-ation

A dimly lit lamp
in the corner solely
lighting a book of poetry
stained with tears, still damp

inside: pouring rain--
outside the window,
the wind blows
rattling the pane

in a procession--
as a roaring crowd,
beckoning loud-ly
the call of participation.

My Soul's Instinct

Every breath my lungs fight to take betrays my soul's instinct to find a way out; whether it be with alcohol, some varying form of dissociation, or a hard collision with a tree by the side of the road is of little importance, thankfully.  I've fought these demons before -- but I thought the birth of my son 17 years ago had saved me from ever having to fight them again. I was wrong.

It began six weeks ago or so when one sunny afternoon as I sat at my desk working on whatever project was at hand, I caught an ever brief glimpse at the horizon's slow descend into darkness.  It didn't really register within me at the time what was coming because that horizon hadn't come into view in so long. Looking back now, I should have stopped everything and walked away to take a break.  I've been saying for months that I needed to take a vacation from life and check into a hotel room for a few days and just write.  Since there aren't any hotels that allow guest to stay with only a payment of a thank you and a smile -- I was unable to take that break I instinctively knew I needed. Instead, I busied myself with more and more projects; working toward my goal of saving the world -- forgetting myself.

Within the last four weeks I have googled, "how to commit suicide and make it look like an accident" twice.  As I said earlier, luckily my soul's instinct to escape doesn't seem to matter how it escapes, so long as it escapes.  So, I make a drink involving bourbon in some fashion and put my headphones on blasting Nirvana, or Ozzy, or Seether, or anything loud and hard -- escaping, if only for a moment or two.  Sadly, with drama lurking in every corner -- the reprieve is short lived and not nearly cathartic enough. Defining the drama is unnecessary for this current piece -- drama is drama no matter what shape or form it takes that we can all identify with. When the horizon has darkened, being blindsided by an insensitive bastard's discarded gum on the sidewalk -- now on my shoe -- can feel like the end of the world. That, and I had to put my dog to sleep last week. Drama. Is. Drama. Is. Drama.

Monday, August 11, 2014 at 7:08 pm I read my first post about Robin Williams.  Within 10 minutes I somehow knew his death was not an accident.  I knew it.  I knew it with every fiber of my being because I saw me in his story.  I saw the masks he wore, though very different than my own.  My very first thought when I came to the realization of what had happened was, "how can I be expected to fight this battle when the genius Robin Williams couldn't fight it?" Selfish? Yes.  But it's what I thought -- it's where I am in my life.

This week has been difficult.  The people of the world lost in conflict and hate and chaos -- digging a hole the size of itself. There I am, standing on the side of the ever growing hole, ready to leap, but I don't. I -- in my weakened, fragile, heavy state find myself reaching into the hole to pull others out.  This is both my blessing and my curse. On a very instinctual level, I know it's something I have to do; and yet, the weight of it all is suffocating me.  Robin Williams leapt into the hole.  Will his leap pull some others out?  Will it cause others to leap with him?  Will it cause me to leap with him?

The conversation has been started, but it will fade away like everything else that is hard -- and nothing will have been resolved. How do we begin shrinking the hole, thereby reducing the amount of souls it sucks in? Why is it that I have reached the bottom of this piece without once using the words suicide or mental illness? Both words have impacted my life -- so many lives for way too long and yet, stigma is still attached to them making it laborious to even softly utter them. The Band-aid was an ingenious invention -- but we, as a whole have got to stop slapping them on a broken society and look for ways to mend and heal what is killing us... what is killing me.   My soul's instinct is to build a bridge of unity for the world -- and yet, here I am falling apart.  Ironic.  Yes. In order to help others I have to help myself, I know this... and yet... I feel lost.

Life and Stuff

Last night in a fit of tears and rage
calling out --
"If you are on my side, NOW is the time to show it."

Ready to drive
with a bottle of bourbon in one hand
the gear shift in the other.

Fast and Furious
real life drama
with a fiery crash ending, relieved.

You answered me without words;
but with something more--
falling asleep in a blanket of peace

Waking up with the taste
of You on my breath--
God is love.

#spirituality #dreams #God #suicidal

Thank You, Ma Maya

Disguising the tears,
the rain proclaimed
it was an awesome day
to die. The sun
swept the tears, subtly
slinging rainbows
between the clouds.

#MayaAngelou

Ding Dong

.................


-


-




the doorbell rang.
oddly enough--
no one was there.

-



-


.......................!!!!

Skating Through the Holy Roller Rink

the pipe organ pulses
through the pews
on a rainy sunday,
hands raised in praise--

the preacher preaches
in his slicked back hair
sure as the devil
he's got somethin' special--

baptized as a baptist
dunking sins away
just like a slam dunk win
at the end--

no oscar for this actress
portraying not adam nor eve
somethin' kinda in between
at the ripe old age of nineteen--

she knew not a single thing
except to live in sin
in a closet full of clothes
waiting to transpose--

the white double doors
outside the wood framed church
with stained glass windows
forever in the shadows

of a new dream
for a new world
where the girl living in transition
finally, embraces religion

Three Strikes

the glass fills higher
while the bottle empties.
she becomes a liar--

the temps fall to the twenties.
my clock ticks louder;
the snores come sooner.

I've never been a doubter
but today, is so much closer
to the day after tomorrow.

What is Integrity?

For my PPS scholars class, I am being asked to write a script for a podcast defining integrity. Does this work?

Integrity in the Face of a Storm

Here in the Triad of North Carolina, our strongest storms blow in from the northwest. Strong cool winds shove the sticky hot air to the coast in a violent fury. The integrity of most structures stay intact, storm after storm, year after year. What makes some structures stand strong while others cave under the pressure? Having integrity means standing strong, even in the face of a storm aiming to corrupt everything in its path.

There is a quote that says everything I believe about integrity. It says, “Live in such a way that if anyone ever spoke badly about you, no one would believe it.” I have modeled my life after this quote. A few years ago I met a group of people that I thought shared a similar belief system as I do—but I quickly realized I was naïve and that this group of people quickly went into jealousy and gossip. When others tried to lure me into the gossip fury, spreading lies about others, I stood strong in the storm—my integrity stayed intact. Some followed my example and stopped gossiping, while others succumbed to the storm and their integrity faltered. To live with integrity means not buckling under the pressure of even a violent haboob. Sometimes to keep our integrity intact, we need to be flexible like a tall, strong tree in the midst of a storm. Trees bend and move with the storm, not against it—giving it resiliency against the storm.

Keeping our integrity is not always easy. The temptation to be dishonest or to take advantage of a person or a situation can be strong, especially when we are hurting or not getting our needs met. It is in this moment that we must stand strong in our convictions and with our feet firmly rooted—eventually, the storm will calm and we will be even stronger to weather the next storm, year after year!

Before Supper

The afternoon sun is creeping through
the bedroom. I like this room this time
of day; alone with no one to care--

for or about; I chuckle.
The darkness lies across my shoulders,
while I swirl my bourbon on the rocks;

gearing up for the sun to set; the time
when I have to smile and tuck
the darkness beneath the bed.

No Need For A Title: Just a thought...

People often say strange things,
like, "I rather enjoy the pleasure of my own company."

Many versions of ourselves gathered around
a living room fire, swirling
our gin and tonic's like a Rockefeller
discussing this and that
as if it actually mattered.

Perhaps this is why I am
always drunk?

Learning...

We are learning in my creative writing class how to write imagery that the reader can taste, feel, hear, smell and almost touch. This is my short piece I presented for my creative writing class today.




The Brown Pontiac




I am in the brown Pontiac sitting at the airport watching planes land. I am in the backseat, alone, but being alone has never bothered me. This Pontiac only has two doors, but they are really long ones that extend almost to the back seat. The windows are rolled down and my head is wedged between the front seat head rest and the window frame, with my eyes wide, and fixed straight toward the skies. I am waiting for the next airplane to take me away. The incoming planes are so low, I could reach up and stroke its belly, but the thrill of the vibrations is enough to sustain me. I am six years old, and I am free as a bird!




It is night time, the air is August thick and is mysterious with the orange glow from the runway lights. My mom and dad are in the front seat, smoking Pall Mall reds. The car is smokey and the air is filled with the scent of jet fuel pressing against every sense I have; I cough without noticing. My parents are happy, they're laughing and flirting and saying things they think my young ears don't understand. It was before they declared war on each other; and it was before I declared war on myself. This night is better than chocolate milk and doughnuts, and I never want to leave.

Where I write

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Life and stuff; it goes on

"The transition" has occurred.  Now, time for the settling....  Change is strange, oddly enough.  I am way beyond tired.

On a good note--My creative writing class starts today.  I'm hoping I get to write some great stuff --stay tuned!!!

-------------------If I can just get through my MATH (bleh!) exam this week....  Wish me luck y'all.........

Reflection

I wanted to share this on my blog.  I wrote this for my conflict resolution class.  It is a reflection on my conflict style. It is the first "creative" piece I've been allowed to write in college so far.  I really had fun with it!  By the way... I received a 96!  :)

At Conflict With Conflict

Conflict is an issue that I have felt passionate about for a very long time.  Until I started my studies in peace and conflict at Guilford College, I thought that if I could just teach people how to respect and value one another, that I could eradicate conflict all together.  Boy was I wrong!!!  I suppose that was just wishful thinking, as I AM NOT a fan of conflict.  In my mind, I have always thought that the way to resolve differing issues (not conflict, which used to be a dirty word) was to be a soft negotiator. “Instead of seeing the other as adversaries, [I] prefer to see them as friends.  Rather than emphasizing a goal of victory, [I] emphasize the necessity of reaching agreement.” (Getting To Yes, Pages 8–9)  To me, the people who ranted and presented general chaos coming at an issue with bullhorns were just assholes, not interested in resolution at all.  That may be true to some extent, but not always, as I have learned.

HELLCAT

Ready for combat

Slingin’ your words

For me to swallow

Like slick pie.

Sorry, but

I ain’t your fall guy,

Don’t bring it to me

Cause you see

The point of a spat

Is not to skew

Me to you

But allow me to be

Despite the blat!

I wrote that poem about five years ago after an argument with a group of friends who I thought, viewed the world and all of the wonderful things and all of the bullshit that comes with inhabiting this beautiful planet the same way I do.  Growing up, I thought it was only my mother who did not always mean what she said; or always said what she meant! But the conflict that ensued within this group of friends taught me that most people suffer from this affliction, including myself.

According to the Style Matters Conflict Inventory I took online, as per the requirement for this paper, I learned that in a conflict when the emotional intensity has not risen, and things are still rather calm, my conflict style is “cooperating” with a score of an eleven.  Interesting though, there was a three way tie for second, with “harmonizing,” “avoiding,” and “compromising” with a score of 10.  The last on the list of what I am likely to use in the calm stage of a conflict is “directing,” with a score of a 5.  When things have risen in intensity, the changes were slight.  My number one method of dealing with conflict when tensions are high is “avoiding” with a score of 12.  There was a two way tie for second with “harmonizing,” and “compromising” with a score of 10.  Lastly, I scored a 9 in “cooperating” and again, a 5 in “directing.”  But really, the numbers between calm and storm are not all that distant. And, the numbers are so close together in both categories, I am likely to reach for any of the methods for resolving conflict except for “directing,” where I received a score of 5 on both the calm and the storm section.

So, this leads me to think about why I avoid conflict sometimes and why I become invested in cooperation and harmonizing at other times.  I tend to be attracted to passionate people.  There is nothing better than feeling the energy exuding from a person in the midst of passion.  But with passionate people, comes passionate dialog, passionate emotions, and passionate EVERYTHING!  I tend to be rather subdued and laid back.  An angry, passionate person behaves much differently than an angry, relaxed person, and often times… No!  --most of the time, these conflict styles DO NOT mesh!  So, what is a laid back, just chillin’ girl such as myself to do?  Funny you should ask!  It has been a long road to get to this realization, “being chill ALL OF THE TIME DOES NOT WORK!!!” 

 My favorite poet, Maya Angelou said it best.  She said, "I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back." Sometimes, you have to put your foot down, set boundaries, and speak up!  Otherwise, people will walk all over you.  I have been in this conflict resolution class for three weeks now, and I have already learned so much.  I am quite certain that my life will be greatly improved, as it has already improved a bit.

I really do want to harmonize with others, and foster it in others as well.  My first inclination is to try to enable others to cooperate and compromise with each other.  Like that old Coke commercial from the 1970s with the lyrics, “I’d like to teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony.”  Harmony is best, of course; but not always possible, unfortunately.   I tend to use the conflict style of avoiding at that precise moment when I “feel” that this is a conflict that is not going to get any resolution.  When I get the sense that I am just going to be someone’s punching bag (or I was the punching bag), or the person or people are not in a rational frame of mind, my inclination is to get the hell out!!!  --and I usually do.

Imagine a big room with chipped paint walls, and the smell of strong coffee bouncing all around in a haze of smoke with a big circle of chairs around one half of the room and a table with stale doughnuts and partially smoked cigarettes in the other half.  Each person rises, in turn to introduce themselves until it is my turn where I say, “Hi, my name is G **** and I am a…”  No, not an alcoholic; but “wuss when it comes to conflict.”  That is pretty much where I stand when it comes to my own personal conflict; often times feeling as if I am a victim of circumstance.  There should be a support group for that, right? But through the last three weeks of this class, I have already learned that I am not a victim in my own personal conflict. Through the Mindfulness Handout: Taking Hold of Your Mind we received in class, I learned that I need to use more of my rational mind and a little less of my emotional mind in a stressful, conflictual situation.  If I use the techniques presented in that handout, I can become less emotional in a conflict, allowing my wise mind to be my ally.  This will help me to not feed into the storm that is before me, or to allow it into my “personal space.”  This will allow me to free my thoughts so that I can gain access to the other four conflict styles other than avoiding; cooperating, harmonizing, compromising and directing, that could assist me in the conflict at hand.  If I trained myself to use ALL of the conflict styles rather than running away mentally and/or physically, I can “direct” the conflict a little more by stating my needs and reinforcing my boundaries so I do not end up feeling battered and abused (even if the feeling battered and abused is only in my own head and not a reality).  This in turn, will help me to stay present in the moment and to work toward some sort of resolution.

All of this certainly seems to point out, with the sharpness of a dunce cap that I have A LOT to learn about conflict resolution!  What I thought I knew to be true about conflict was not even remotely close to the truth; well, except for the fact that a lot of the conflict that ensues, not only in my own life but all conflict could be avoided if we all learned how to communicate with one another! By the word communicate, I largely mean we must learn to L-I-S-T-E-N to one another!  That is the large piece of communication that many of us are missing.  We are usually so busy trying to be heard, that we ourselves do not hear much of anything outside of our own thoughts.  When we have two people in a conflict doing this… there’s not a whole lot of communicating going on.

Conflict can be bad, but it can also be good when there is appropriate communication (say what you mean, mean what you say, and listen), mutual respect (by respect I do not mean you have to like each other or even agree with each other, but you do have to respect the other person’s opinion), and the desire to reach a resolution by all parties involved in the conflict. At the beginning of this paper I said that I thought if I could just teach people how to respect and value one another, that I could eradicate conflict all together.  That goal is not realistic; however, if I could teach people how to respect and value one another, I could eradicate dysfunctional conflict, perhaps.  The road to get there is long and winding indeed; but this class is an awesome first step in that journey; but, no pressure Daniel and Jeremy!   --Peace Out!

On Diverse Deviations

My life is about to become totally crazy for the next 12 daze as I gear up for the end of the semester, exams and papers and stress!!!  I gave myself permission to enjoy myself today.  The plan?  To lie out in the sun, YES! I said the sun.  It's the first day of December and it is beautiful here in the southeast!!!  So, as many others are hanging Christmas light and spending all of that dough they don't have to spend, I'm lying in the sun daydreaming that I'm on a tropical island with a tropical drink and a frilly straw...and... it felt GREAT! I had pen and paper in hand to write a poem for her like I said I would.... but the damn words just won't come!!!  Oh, I filled up a few pages of journal writing about things such as, there never being any soup in the house on the coldest of days, or, the light bulb always goes out when you least expect it and there's not enough time to change it...and the such; but alas... no damn poem.  :( 

I'm about to get 7 weeks off from school.  I'm hoping in that time I can find my own voice again.  I think my heart swallowed it, but... it is what it is, and well.... my will is good!

I'll leave you with a pic of me in the sun.... and a poem that I'm diggin' today.

Namaste!

 

They Went Home

by Maya Angelou

 

They went home and told their wives,

     that never once in all their lives,

 had they known a girl like me,

                                                    But... They went home.

 

They said my house was licking clean,

    no word I spoke was ever mean,

        I had an air of mystery,

                                                   But... They went home.

                                       

My praises were on all men's lips,

   they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,

    they'd spend one night, or two or three.

                                                   But...