People my people!
I have moved allllllll of my work to another address simply out of the need to shorten this one thus being able to keep it stuck in your head.
Please come to www.getoutthebox.ca where I am continuing to do what has you coming back here in the first place.
See you there!
Peace.
PS: Boodram if you’re just getting this info now I’ve explained it in a post over there, plus we still have to have sushi and talk about why we’re the shit lol…no really.
When he stopped me to politely ask me if he could ask me a question I immediately assumed he wanted directions. I guess it was because I was lost heading east on King St about two hours prior. But when he began to explain that he needed $7 to get into a hostel for the night I thought about you. I don’t usually spare change for people on the street but something in his voice struck a nerve. His demeanour wasn’t aggressive or pitiful. He looked like his pride had been shot down so many times, but the necessity to live another day far outweighed another moment of rejection. I told him I only had $2, which I gave to him, mostly because I felt like there was a chance he’d be injecting himself with a dirty needle and I didn’t want to be a big help to that likelihood, and partly because I believed he was telling me the truth.
I dropped the toonie in his hand and he said thank you. I told him to have a nice day.
That man could have been you and right now I wonder so much if it is.
Thank you for making the short trip from my FB note, to here. You have no idea how much it took for me to even make this part of me known to you. The feeling is indescribable and something I greatly appreciate. For those of you who didn’t come from my FB note I’ll fill you in on what’s going on. I’ve decided to let loose on my thoughts more than I have before by making this post more personal. I posted a short story in my facebook notes as an intro to this post. I know once you look at it all it seems backwards and maybe a tad extra, but I’m doing it the way that is most comfortable so I encourage you to pull up a chair.
I actually wrote about this person years ago, but I finally decided to post what I wrote only a few weeks ago. I realize that I’m self-censored. Sometimes the things that go on in my head remain there for a while before I even fathom writing it out. When I actually do put it on paper I may still keep it hidden amongst all my other writing because I’m too afraid to let those thoughts become public domain. In keeping with my dream to [get] Out the Box I decided to take fear and run with it, not against it.
So please go to my entry titled “Never Danced with my Father” and you’ll see that he is the “you” I was talking about in my note. It’s a true poem and it has everything to do with my life. Nothing made up. Everything for real. I’ll post the short story (The man in the trench-coat) right now for everyone who came here first.
Take care and enjoy.
Peace.
And tears fall like rain water.
And smiles spread like butter.
And heartache pains like a killer.
Ignorance breeds neglect.
Love discourages greed.
And time flies like shit hitting a fan.
And the dust settles in my stomach.
And life contemplates death.
Integrity is mine.
Peace swims in the deepest oceans.
And roads break apart.
And hate subsides.
And light opens my eyes.
Fear denigrates progress.
Rejection motivates doubt.
And I am alive.
And you are alive.
And patience is alive.
This is my thesis statement.
Peace.
It’s as if the closet is looking back at me laughing, pointing, calling me a coward. Pressure swelling at the hinges dying to break loose and flood my reality with its truths. Everything has been piled in an unorganized fashion into a closet. Not a vault. Vaults require security codes that can make the step between thinking about opening it and actually turning the combo as long a pause as possible. Doors to closets are opened much easier. Probably to the hoarder’s intent. There’s not much holding a closet closed, just a half turn of the knob and all that was kept hidden comes toppling out in one big rush as if the secrets needed oxygen, the air in there being too sparse.
Does that mean the secrets will be more vengeful when allowed out? Will they exaggerate their presence as retaliation for being held back for so long?
All at once what’s concealed settles.
A slight tap from inside breaks the silence. For a moment I am fooled into believing that I can ease the door and permit the years to seep out slowly. For a moment I am tricked into believing that the sweet tapping will smell like molasses thus being gentle with its exit.
I pause.
The tapping gets deeper, and impatient. Resentful and full of spite. The closet starts laughing again. Calling me names that I’ve never owned. The hinges are whistling again. The door knob rattling and the frame buckling under the pressure. The tapping has been replaced by an incessant boom that reverberates my chest.
The closet it there. Waiting. Threatening me. Mocking me. Daring me to come closer. Pulsating inconsistently. Knowing it can be stronger than I am. Knowing the power it holds and the consequences that will result from being set free. It’s toying with me. Whimpering at times to disguise itself as apologetic and non-threatening. Luring me into believing I can have control of its soul if I just open the door and let some light in. Allow new air to circulate and old air to escape.
The closet. It wears a mask of shame and regret.
The closet. It wears a mask of pity and embarrassment, never pride. One of fear and abandonment.
The door knob rattles. Softly this time. The raging battle has been put to rest, my stance unwavering. For now I am the victor. For now.
I asked him why he loves me and he responded without a second thought, “I just do.” At the time his answer was too simple and it didn’t seem like enough for me.
In search of a more meaningful answer I replied, “ok, but why?” So to make me happy I suppose, he listed a couple of things that were enough to end the conversation. It’s not like I didn’t believe he did and needed him to justify his feelings, but his first response felt too easy. I mean we’re always being told that love is complicated and full of many layers right? So to say you just do is kind of an insult to the feeling right? It can’t be THAT easy. It’s LOVE we’re talking about! At the time I wanted specific reasons and examples. I wanted to know why I was the last person he wanted to be with till the day he dies. A flip chart complete with diagrams and maps would have sufficed. Besides, I never asked him that before so when it came to my mind I felt the need to. Although it’s kind of funny to me now because I don’t remember any of the things he listed. I’ve been trying really hard for the last two minutes, but I can’t think of one thing. All I can remember is “I just do.”
I wonder why I REALLY asked that. Maybe I felt like the longer the list was the more he loved me. Or perhaps the more unique his answer the deeper his love for me ran. None of those feelings occured afterward mind you. I made the mistake of measuring the length of the sentence rather than understanding the depth of its meaning. NOW I think that his first response is the best one ever and I really can’t ask for more.
“I just do”. For me it means that he doesn’t think twice about it. It means that the feeling is unconditional and there isn’t a list of criteria that he checks weekly to see if I’ve met it. It’s not something he has to tell himself to do, he just does it. At first I wanted more out of his answer but after thinking about it I realize that his answer already means so much more. He loved me from the first moment he saw me and never stopped ever since.
Think about it. When you’re at the alter and the priest asks you if “u do” you just say “I do”, you don’t proceed to explain why. At that moment “I do” is all you want and need to hear because the rest will follow.
So now, I’m truly happy with the “I just do” I received that day because his love IS just that simple and I…just do too.
Peace.
Take this for instance for instance, there’s this girl (LET’S CALL HER “A”) and there’s this guy (LET’S CALL HIM “B”), and then there’s this other guy (LET’S CALL HIM “C”). Make sure you get the assigned letters down as you may become confused shortly.
Now in the beginning B likes A. They’ve known each other for a little bit, but nothing ever happened…not even close. But after some time B began to like A as a potential datee (yes 2 e’s). B had many chances to advance with A but never took any of them despite the fact that he was beginning to like her. A never made any indications that she did though, however she didn’t make any blatant moves that said she didn’t either. Now C comes along purely on a friendly tip, but after a little time a slight bit of chemistry builds…nothing too spectacular but the lighter fluid has been filled. Eventually manhood and curiousity gets the best of C and he drops little hints that he’s down for whatever, while in the presence of B and (un)naturally B gets uncomfortable with C’s attempts (oops I forgot to say B and C are somewhat friends, not ride or die but respectful enough). Later down the road B says he’s no longer interested in A (even though she still hasn’t made her position known) so I suppose C thinks he’s in the clear to a certain degree. Later A and B go out on a friendly tip and B explains that he was uncomfortable with C’s implications. He figured I might as well be truthful so she doesn’t get the wrong message. At this point everything is still cool. No harm done.
…weeks go by…
A is still coming around (she’s madd cool) and B has found someone else (WE CAN CALL HER AA I GUESS) and C is still down for whatever but had left the situation alone. However with the season back in season the tides begin to change and A and C are feeling each other a little bit. During regular conversation A mentions to C that B had many opportunities to make a pass but never did, so that was his loss. In other words, he never even tried anything, but he should have. However, on the same note A admits that nothing would have happened anyway even if B did try.
So this is my question to all the XX’s and XY’s out there. Why do we want someone to try and get at us when we know in our minds they have no chance?
I’m guessing it has to do with the fact that the XY’s may be so used to the XX’s turning down numerous XY’s that B didn’t think there was any point in trying anything with her. Maybe the dude was tired of hearing “I have a boyfriend”, or “Sorry not interested” that he felt it was in his best interest to keep his hands to himself. I mean, ladies…yes YOU…why do you want a guy to ball out when you know you’re going to shut him down? Is it the fact that he’s even trying that you crave? I have my own answers so I can’t be the voice for all the XX’s.
So let me know what’s up.
Oct. 18th 2008 will mark the day that my post-secondary studies have come to an end and I am ELATED. When I receive the piece of paper that says I made it (regardless of what I learned and threw up or learn and swallowed whole) I will cry….hard. I can feel it already. I’ve been on this journey for 6 YEARS…SIX! My first post-secondary attempt was done only because my four year attempt (in high school) didn’t end with the right bang…I was “playin de ass” as my mom would say. This second journey only (can I really say only? hmm…fuck yea) took 5 YEARS. The last 2 were hard faught. There were moments when I truly thought I wasn’t going to make it. Everyday I went to school I hoped the bomb threats people made to get out of exams would be real and the school would be a blaze on my arrival. I hated my major with a passion and every prof that spoke through their mic becasue the lecture halls were ridiculoulsy huge gave me the right incentive to turn on my ipod, put away my notes and start writing from my heart. I used that time unwisely (not completely). I doodled, I wrote short poems, I wrote incoherent sentences across my page. Anything that jumped into my mind went down on paper, even if the prof was talking about how important his next point was to our ability to pass the final. Silently I said fuck you.
There were classes I took more than once. In the last 2 years I barely passed the rest. Family life was spiraling out of control, my relationship status wasn’t at it’s strongest and the things I thought I loved turned out to not love me back. With distaste in my mouth I pushed on. To settle my brain and keep my medulla from popping I gravitated towards the electives that always stimulated my mind: Humanities, Sociology, Women’s Studies, Social Science and Anthropology. Things that I had long debates about after class. Lectures that I was more than happy to attend. Tutorials that I raised my hand in any chance I got because I couldn’t wait to be heard. I yearned to know why the male or female across from me was thinking something I wasn’t. I engaged in coversations like that’s all I had. In THOSE classes I mattered, people could see me, and right or wrong my opinion could be heard. And I truly loved it. On the days I had those classes I walked to the bus stop, or my car afterwards (depends on how much doe I had to spend and if the gas station or the bus station was gunna get it) and a million thoughts raced through my head. I should have had my blog then. I wrote as I walked, and sometimes as I drove, and in those moments the earth really stood still. Those classes are the only ones that kept me sane. I relished in those moments and I honestly feel this is where I truly learned…about myself and the world outside of me.
So when I walk across that stage at 3PM on Oct. 18th 2008 (prolly more like 3:30 though because university ish is never on time) every step I take is for the good and bad times. For the rough and gleeful moments. On that day I’m not just PICKING UP MY DiPLOMA, I’m taking my sanity back, I’m taking my love back. I gave and gave for 5 YEARS in that institution and I must say I figured out a lot of things that I am 100% thankful for. But that chapter is going to close with watery eyes and a full smile. I will have made it.
Stay tuned for the after math of that day. Thanx to those who helped me hold my head: DQ, JW, SP…I love all yall like a fat kid loves cake.
Peace.
When the world pushes you into a corner, you don’t wonder about how bad it will hurt, you push back. I’ve been learning that. Through every failed test, and ball dropped. Through every dumbass comment someone has made towards me. I’m learning. Sometimes surrendering feels like the easiest way out, but as reality would prove giving in is a great way to short change yourself. I’ve had the great pleasure of meeting and keeping in touch with a couple of people who have motivated my strength to flourish. One in particular, who I will continue to leave unnamed and only sprinkle into my writing every now and then. There are others, whom I won’t name for now mainly because this is not the point. But what I’m trying to say it I’ve been afraid to fail for a long time and most times I just fantasized rather than trying. Now I’m feeling like the worst thing that can happen is that nothing happens at all.
Bottom line: I have to follow my fear to see how far I can go.
Some people bungee jump, others rock climb. I choose to write. To me that’s scary and dangerous enough. Physical challenges aren’t as daunting to me as emotional ones.
This piece I wrote years ago and never dared to show even my best friend what I wrote. Things change, and I’m happy about that.
When Pop dies I will cry
because I knew him that well
Wish he didn’t slip and fall
right into that crack hell
Promised to stay strong and keep us on the path
But he’s weak now
Couldn’t handle the pressure
I hate having to look back
Makes me sad to see what he once was
My father, my dad
I loved him just because
He made it fun, we had our laughs
Those times I’ll never forget
The many times I begged my mom, “please don’t pick us up just yet”
He wasn’t always the greatest
but for the most part, he had my back
To see what happened when he fell apart
tore my heart in two
I wished he said no, held his head
and not let the streets run through
My brother got the worst of it
baseball was their life
Now the bases are empty, he just got his last strike
And I’m left in the stands wondering where the hell he went
Fuck. He’s trapped in a pipe
Will he get out of it?
I cry as I write because it just wasn’t fair
You smoked that shit, got hooked and didn’t care
What did you think bringing them hoes into our place?!
It wasn’t cool, but you’re lifted now
I can see it in your face.
I’ve seen you out there in the street
Maybe a time or two
Would you even recognize me if I walked right up to you?
But I kept on going
Turned my had in fear
You don’t even know how close you were to seeing my tears
Now I block it out and let it sit in a place I rarely go
But just for tonight I eased the door to let my mind flow
Will I ever forgive you?
That, I don’t know
I’m still hurt by how easily you could say goodbye to our home.
Peace.
Someone must have told you that it would be that easy
Hollering out some obscenities
something that would cheese me
I don’t know who told you that all women are objects
and this ain’t about the hood, the ghetto or projects
I’ve seen white collared men do the same thing
Even in a suit jacket, button down and blinged out wedding ring
Well let me tell you something…
Today wasn’t the first time I’ve been assaulted in a parking lot
Some young dudes tried to holler, “ayo shorty come here, I wanna see what you got!”
Oh really that’s it?
Crystal that’s not so bad
Don’t fucking patronize me
‘Cause when your daughter comes home
swings the door open and yells, “DAD!”
maybe then you should tell her
Hunny, it will get a lot worse
guys might try to grab you
twist your arms till it hurts
let her know too that she got off easy
’cause next time it might be her boyfriend
raising his hand yelling, “BITCH be easy!”
If she doesn’t get it then
let her know at least it wasn’t dark
what can’t be seen in the night time
can be taken advantage of near the park
have her bent up in a garbage can
with the rest of yesterday’s trash
remember it wasn’t that serious
You can’t be serious mannn
When’s the last time someone walked up to you like they already owned you
Fuck it, ’cause I refuse to know my place
Ladies you can get out of the zone too
So don’t call out some name that never belonged to me
Your smile is still lame
I can tell you are a phony
I’m putting this on front street
and you should be embarrassed
Karma is the realest shit
one day you may have a daughter you cherish.
That’s my word.
Peace.