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Alone in a Crowd...

I’m in the Lou. St Louis that is for my sorority’s national convention. So far this trip hasn’t been the best one and I’ve found myself questionning why I broke my neck to be at THIS one. Of course by the time I complete the question in my mind, I remember the reasons I told myself about being at this convention and I suppose it makes sense that I thought those things when I booked my flight. Getting here was the absolute worst. The hubby and I got a little cocky about how much time it would take to get to the airport. So we woke up, worked out, finished...
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Holding My Breath...

It’s a habit of mine that I don’t know where I picked it up… nor do I know when I’ll ever be able to truly get it under control. I dare say that it’s a result of me regularly feeling that I’m anticipating something big. But I know that it’s not just that. I just hold my breath during random times in a day. And once my body and I have realized that I can no longer do that… I let out a huge sigh that sounds indicative of frustration or malaise… but it really isn’t either. I’m just… gasping for air. ...
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Nightmares, much?...

Horrid…. terrible imagery last night. As I slept, I dreamt about an island in the night. A small island, covered in palm and plants and the camera of my mind circled over the island. There was activity in the center the land… firelight… drums… an ancestral ritual and dance. Getting in closer, we find those natives dancing about the fire in ceremonial dress chanting and pounding the earth with their feet causing a unified noise through out the island. And the closer I got the more intense it became until one of the natives let out a blood curdling...
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Anomaly...

The train was a relief getting on this morning from the sweltering humidity out side that threatened to douse us with rains anew. We got on to a moderately populated, cooled non-wreaking of homelessness or wreckless abandon car with like minded working class all enjoying the final dregs of their morning quiet before stepping into a venti New York noisemaker, non-fat. The ride home – surprisingly similar thus far. AC in the car works – not to freeze me, but to soothe me down from the heat of elevated voices all day. Not crowded – if u stand, it’s by...
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A Mother’s Reminder…...

My mom had this poem hung outside the entrance to the bathroom…. I guess she figured that’s where the most active, attentive foot traffic is. I’m glad I found it… because I need to remember it: Look, I’m not your friend. I’m your Mother. I am the only Mother you will ever have. My job is very different from, and way beyond, the job of being your friend. Also, this is not a democracy. I didn’t campaign for you to elect me. You certainly didn’t vote for me. But, God did choose me for this job. If you could realize how much I love...
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The Goingzons...

So… The coveted update blog, because I’ve been negligent to blog when there is a computer around and the excuse that I’m away from one is all too convenient to make. Hence me downloading the WP app for BBerry that is directly connected to MY blog. So I can do this from anywhere. Therefore I’m on my train ride home getting a few keystrokes in while I can. (Never mind that it distracts me from the fact that NY subways are the nexus of grime and horribleness in this my ever growing OCD world.) Baby Making Seems to be the first thing folks ask me about...
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WordPress for Blackberry!...

So I dreamt it then found it… And now I’m testing it out… I hope this means that I’ll blog more since a million and one things are happening at once now… I need to document… It has my categories in there…. This is feeling like a WIN *
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On the Culture of Taking a Life...

I’ve been preoccupied with this story…. http://www.nj.com/hudson/index.ssf/2010/04/3_charged_in_murder_of_jersey.html At the time that I’m posting this… it’s the most recent and updated story about the killings and the captures. My heart breaks every time I think about Michael and Nia. Even though I did not know them personally… I know people who knew them. I know people who were at the engagement party the night that they were murdered. I feel their pain. And I feel the NATURAL HUMAN EMPATHY. How can you think of the story and not???...
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What’s Real...

What is real? Realness? Reality? Real Talk? Really Real? I’m for Real? Real Love? Reality Shows? How do you know that what you’ve experienced is real? Versus another dream in your head that is so… “real”istic? I read past memories through this blog and some of the actual memories feel like a distant dream. What makes those real? How do I know for certain I went through them? Unless I have someone who can verify… and then… could it be the stuff of mass delusion? Occasionally I struggle… with this question. I suppose...
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The Box...

I got another lesson in things not always being what they seem yesterday. Truth be told, yesterday was one of those days where I think it might have been altogether better to just stay in bed and opt out. But my sense of obligation propelled me forward. Despite be feeling physically horrid, my mind was racing because hi, have you met me? It’s what MY mind does. I valiantly make it in to work and am in the throes of being productive when I get a phone call from the company mail room informing me that I have a “box”. Oh okay… OHHH… It’s...

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