Thursday, July 16, 2009
Sometimes when I look at a blank piece of paper, I see nothing. Other times I see a whole new world waiting to be prodded.
Once I add a pen to the mix, doors open that once were closed. Locked even. No name characters beg to be applied to every day scenarios that intermingle with the psyche. That luscious and fluid grace that ink provides as it's being coaxed out of the tip with subtle movement from my hand screams creation in an otherwise gray world.
I can't wait to play with lucid words and parenthesise my thoughts all while deciding if I want to rhyme or sing the previous word. Symphonic phonics grabs at my tongue. I repeat the words that I scribed like Beethoven felt his notes; with passion, longing, heartache, smiles, desire, and an avidity for all things meaningful.
Sometimes I am called to write long, flowing prose styles and other times my soul grabs at all things lascivious. Either way, a blank piece of paper is so much more that white and blue.
Those thin blue lines dance under my lids and the pure, snow white of the paper invokes dozens of meanings to words I never knew existed prior till now. Happy endings and false pretenses have nothing on what sits enigmatically upon my banister of contemplations.
Playful bantering of synonyms that kiss, and sounds dance to the rhythm of a beat not quite known to them. Writing is such a rapture of mine I could never abandon it. I have to write to survive. I have to gather all the emotions and thoughts that I feel or I'll surely go mad. If they never see the light of a books binding, I'm fine with that. They live on blank pieces of paper that mean nothing to another, yet everything to someone else.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tonight I am without my son. He is sleeping out at his father's house. I don't normally allow my son to sleep out because my motherly instincts simply don't agree with it. Ever since finding out I was pregnant with my son almost three years ago, I have become insanely protective of him. I have this yearning desire to be with him as much as I can. Don't get me wrong, I do adore my "alone" time when I can catch it that is, but for all intensive purposes, I thoroughly enjoy not only being a mother in its entirety, but also simply being with my son. There really is no other male that I could even fathom spending as much time with.
I love the way, at almost three years old, that my child adores me. I love that mellifluous little voice that calls "mommy" when he needs something. I love his scent. I have it running through my veins. I could pick him out of a crowd of billions of little boys even if I was blindfolded. I love wiping the snots that drip down his cute little nose with my back of my index finger. And I even love the way he wipes his snots all over me, and even smiles when doing so.
So many motherly emotions have taken precedence over everything else in my life that it baffles me how I survived and actually lived prior to giving birth to him. That beautiful, sweet, and luscious smell of a newborn had me from the time I pushed him out. My arms became iron clad...nothing was going to harm my child. My entire being protects him like an invisible force field utterly impenetrable from the outside. A United States Marine couldn't pry my son from me if he tried. Motherly love, there's nothing like it in the world.
So for tonight, I will try and enjoy my own company for a change. While I do enjoy my solitude, I enjoy mothering my son so much more.
Please...share your insight with myself and my readers. We'd love to hear your thoughts and advice.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Like most of the world, I was floored when I heard the news of Michael Jackson's death. I remember exactly where I was and I'll never forget the immediate feeling of loss and shock that I felt.
I grew up on MJ's music. I envied the dancing ability he possessed. I watched him tip his hat and stand on his toes with the utmost loving affection. The few strands of hair that always fell into his face, the tight white t-shirt, and the crotch grabbing mesmerized me. I thought he was one of the sexiest men on the planet...in his own way.
I seriously can't believe we lost him. This was a death that shouldn't have surfaced for at least thirty to forty more years. Michael should still be here touring, raising his children, dancing, singing, and caring for others. The amount of compassion he had for others astounds me and leaves me literally breathless. I wish I could look at the world that way.
MJ gave his all to help countless children and causes around the world. But yet, the media chose to focus not on the good he did but on the weirdness they thought he was capable of. Al Sharpton said it best at Michael's memorial: "I want Michael's kids to know...ain't nothing strange about your daddy, what was strange is what he had to go through."
The media helped contribute to Michael's untimely death. The false molestation accusations that he had to endure took a toll on him, as they would with any one of us. Those accusations destroyed his spirit and you could see it in his face every time he walked into court. He was mentally, emotionally, and physically drained. And now that he's gone, I feel more horrible than ever. I can't even imagine what it's like to live in a world where all you want to do is be yourself, be "normal", perform for your fans, and help those less fortunate...and the media and haters keep picking at you. They pick until blood drips...until your spirit is broken...they pick at you until you are gutted.
What Michael Jackson wanted was simply to be himself, to be a good father to his children, and to love his fans. It's too bad that it took his death for most of the world to realize that.
Even though I've never met MJ and didn't know him personally, I feel with every fiber of my being that I lost a family member. I weeped during his memorial service. I went through almost an entire box of tissues. Part of me feels sad and empty at his loss while other parts of me smile because I'm hoping he is finally at peace.
Thank you MJ for the dance moves, the beautiful songs, your compassion for the human race, and for your unconditional love that you had for your children, your family, and your fans. Know that you are respected for your talents and that you will be SO missed.