Revival

Revival

So after giving myself a day to completely wallow in my own self pity about nothing that happened to me recently — just the residuals off of watching SFU on Sunday then getting absolutely NO sleep that night and being zombified all of yesterday (hence the lack of a post)… I came to a few realizations:

1) I’m deathly afraid of being alone. My worst fear is that I’ll outlive everyone. And have to manage on my own. Monetarily, physically etc… NOT a problem. But spiritually… emotionally — to have no one that I love and trust around me sounds to be about the personification of my own hell. I looked into my baby’s face the other day and listened to the sound of his voice, and feared for the day that I’d struggle to remember what he sounds like. Just like I struggle to remember my Grandmother’s voice now.

2) I always seem to mourn people before they are gone (as a defense mechanism). I’ve been doing this since I was at least in college. I feel like if I brace and begin the ensuing pain, it’ll be easier for me when the shit hits the fan. I remember worrying about my mother passing away while I was at the dormitory and not being able to be by her side, yadda yadda. But here she is — 10 years later. Still holding on. How much happier memories I could be making of her / with her if I could just celebrate her life.

That it what it all boils down to. And truly… all enshrouded in fear. And I can’t live my life like that. So I must live today. Who knows about tomorrow. I can’t wait around for it. But I’ll do it in bite sized pieces. I have all of these goals and I want to walk out of my house and achieve them all in one day and come home. But that’s impossible. So… I’ll do a goal a week.

The Goal for this week: CLEAN MY ROOM.
So that I have a haven / sanctuary to return to every day. Not somewhere that I cringe going to because it’s so disheveled and unlike me.

The Goal for next week: CALL AT LEAST 3 DOCTORS

The Goal for the week after: GET MY 5 HOUR CLASS DONE
(it’s a shame… I know how to drive… but have no license. That has to stop)

I think putting 3 out there with the running Goal of : PLAN MY WEDDING… should be enough to start us off. Makes no sense for me to sit here and ask why we do all this stuff if it’s ultimately for nothing. It is for something. It gives me meaning now.

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Still Up

Still Up

The world has gone to sleep and left me here sitting at this computer. I’m painfully lonely tonight (sur-fucking-prise) but I’m just working through it. Literally, all the work I’d do at my desk tomorrow, I’m sitting up and doing now. Just trying to stop thinking, really. Because all my questions don’t have answers. At least, not text book ones. And I’m afraid textbook is the only thing that’ll get me to go to sleep right now. Something concrete, backed with facts where it’s unquestionnable to me in my limited frame of reference. Like: “We are here because…” or “The meaning of life is…” Because right now feels like running in a circle. All this stuff. Getting all worked up … for what?

Right. No answer to that either.

I sat and talked with a friend tonight who was in awe of his own growing love of his son. And I remember once feeling genuinely excited at the prospect of my own and that heightened my enthusiasm for my friends as they would discover the world through their kids eyes. I feel like I’m attempting to empathize that joy through wet, heated saran wrap nowadays. I know there is a feeling there; I just can’t get too close to it, because who knows what mental hurt I’m setting myself up for. And every step I try to take to get closer to it, the more I restrict myself. Listening to a Lauryn Hill song the other day made my separation from that world more apparant. “I’ve never been in love like this before…” she sang to her son Zion. And all I could think is… I’ve had “love” make me feel like I was soaring through the clouds with sheer ecstacy. And that same love make me want to take my own life from unbridaled pain it inflicted. I don’t know if I’d be ready to manage anything stronger than that — I’m barely surviving with this version.

I do feel it full on when I dream of her though. Because for days after, I’m not the same. Maybe I’m just torturing myself.

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No One Stays

No One Stays

I just finished watching the finale of SFU and wow. The whole episode was a standard episode, but the last 5 minutes. Good Lord. I cried so hard I have a headache. I realize that everyone has to go. This world is transient. And everything in it. But the worst parts of leaving are 1) the unpredictability of it and 2) the inability to reach beyond it. So far, most of the deaths in my life have been pretty predictable. They were old. They were sick. It was almost expected. Makes me think of that poem “Old Men” by Ogden Nash:

People expect old men to die,
They do not really mourn old men.
Old men are different. People look
At them with eyes that wonder when…
People watch with unshocked eyes;
But the old men know when an old man dies.

But what of the young deaths I’ve experienced? Bomani. Mishia. Deborah. People whose names I’ve had to delete from my address book because they’re gone now and left no forwarding information. I hate to dwell in “what ifs” or “should’ves” and “could’ves” and death makes me do that most. “I should’ve talked with her more” “I wish I would have spent more time with them” “I should’ve told him how I felt about him.” I wonder if their deaths have made me any more proactive with the people in my life now. I try to tell people that I love that I do. And a lot of times… I get a cock eyed look. It’s not a word we’re supposed to throw around. But when we don’t… we feel bad if we couldn’t while we could. So… I deal with the pregnant silences on the other end of the phone line and the, “Um.. uh… okay Vic… that’s nice…” But… at least they know how I feel.

I might have needed a good cry. Thought I had one this year already *wink*.

I guess I’ll go get focused on the hamster wheel that occupies us till we can’t run anymore.

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Recap

Recap:

Here goes my recap of the weekend, since I didn’t stop and blog along the way like I thought I’d have the chance to / should have.

Saturday Morning:
I woke up after having a strange dream. The climate of the dream was much like the day we had to hurry Grandma off to the hospital. That same kind of overly quiet crisp night. But this time, something was wrong with mom. She was in a terrible amount of pain and just inconsolable. So Domi and I called 911 and they dispatched EMT to our house really (unusually) quickly. Then they didn’t take her to Elmhurst or St. John’s (the standards). They took her to some hospital in the city. After working on her for a little while, they realized the problem was that she was preganant and was in labor. She gave birth to a baby girl (NOT unlike the baby girl that I constantly dream of that will be my daughter one day). And when she came home from the hospital, this transformation started happening with my mom. She was younger, more vibrant, she started getting thinner and before I knew it in the dream, I was hugging my 30 year old mom in all her glory. Slender build, petite and BEAUTIFUL. I was so overwhelmed by the idea that I was meeting her, one day I just jumped up and hugged her. She shimmied her way out of my grasp announcing “Stop! I’m fixing my hair!” Her hair which was the only part of her that wasn’t her. It was shoulder length THICK black hair. My mom’s hair is and has always been baby fine and VERY long. Once she pushed past me in the dream because “the baby is crying,” I woke up. I laid there for a few minutes, missing her very much and wishing that my mom in this reality could find a fountain of youth. I walked into her bedroom where she sat there watching the prayer channel and told her the dream, and she laughed. Glad that the dream was worth some reaction at all.

Saturday afternoon / Evening:

I spent the day with my brother, whisking him off here and there getting ready for this wedding I was attending. Jean’s wedding. Was I freaked out about it? Not in the normal sense. I went to tell someone I was going to my “ex’s” wedding. But it sounded all wrong. He wasn’t my ex anymore for all intents and purposes. He was now someone else’s intended and my FRIEND. Just like he was before we got together. Funny too… after the wedding, my baby was trying to describe Jean to someone and normally he would have said, “You know, Vicky’s Jean.” But he hesitated and decided to describe him rather as “Jean from Stonybrook” (where he pledged). Cause it was understood now that he was Cher’s Jean. Anyway, I went looking for a black dress (they requested that all guests wear black with a splash of red). I finally found one. (in a size 14… WOO Mutha effin HOO!! because I was wearing a 20 for a minute there). It was simple and understated, but there was no reason (or way, when I think about it) for me to outshine or out do the bride. So I wasn’t going to try. After the dress shopping we went to get shoes, and then went to get my mani pedi. Then, back home to get ready. I jumped into the shower and did my thing and came out looking pretty stunning. When my baby saw me, he said “Wow! You look beautiful!” And I LOVED that it was unsolicited.

The Wedding
We got there a half hour late, but nothing had started yet. One of Jean’s groomsmen told me we were “just in time”. I got a chance to sit next to and catch up with Korny which was GREAT because I missed her and hadn’t had a chance to really hang out with her since the liquidation. The wedding itself was very informal, non structured. But in the place of said “structure” there was a feeling of jovial laissez faire. They were in love… so it didn’t really matter how this day came off… they were getting married and that was the bottom line. Jean was dapper in his white tux with red rose and Ms Cherelle came out in a GORGEOUS gown with raised skirt up front and long beaded train, beautiful hair style and veil and barefoot. His groomsmen were dressed in grey and pink and the bridesmaids in pink corsets, form fitting black skirts, black fishnets and black heels with black mesh hats. The theme overal was festive. More of a party than a ceremony and from what I could tell, they all had fun — mostly Jean and Cher. We had our fill of partying wished them the best and left for the night.

I spent the night with my baby and we stayed in late this morning and spent a very leisurely, quiet sunday together. He just left for a chapter committee meeting and I’m here staring at my to do list thinking… I better get it together!

So I will… before the finale of SFU comes on tonight… bbl

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Helplessness.

Helplessness

Today on the train in, I was armed to shut out the world. I had my Shuffle in hand (yes, it’s a regular appendage now), my phone was on text message so I never had to lose touch with my peoples and I donned my shroud of general apathy till I get to my destination. It was working famously till we reached 42nd St. Grand Central Station. A woman walked on to the train. She looked normal enough. Through my periphery, I could see she sat down, very slowly… and was looking in my general direction. I glanced up and locked eyes with her for moment. Latina. Very dark hair. Shoulder length. About 5’4″, 250 lbs. Mid to upper 30s. Tight white crew neck top on, but pulled down so far that you could see the top rim of lace on her bra. Black capris. Sandals. Large black bag in her hand. And she was staring at me. So I did my regular defense: Look away quickly and never make eye contact again. Unless the person is crazy (which sometimes they are) they look away and that’s that. I could feel her gaze was on me for while longer, but it wasn’t a gaze of recognition or resentment… she just so happened to be fixed on me in her thoughts at that moment. When I got uncomfortable enough, I stood up and went over to one of the doors. From my aerial, I got a better understand of what was happening. After I got up, she was still staring in my seated direction. But I wasn’t sitting there anymore. And she was slowly leaning forward. She almost fell, but didn’t. Right before she would have tumbled out of the seat, she “regained consciousness” and straightened her self up. I kept watching. I needed to confirm what I was seeing. She smiled at the couple sitting next to her and mouthed something to them, which they nodded and smiled back at her and then looked at each other with a “that was weird” look on their faces. She looked like she started to go through her bag for something… and in mid rummaging, her movements slowed… she started to lean to her right very very slowly until she was almost laying across the train seats. But before she could go all the way down, she straightened up and started doing what looked like examining her purse strap. Oh god, I thought to myself, that was a true to life nod. I hadn’t seen one in YEARS. And I didn’t know if anyone else knew what it was. My eyes darted around the train car and about 6 or 7 other pairs of fixated eyes were watching her stupor. They knew. Our eyes met around the car and our general sensation was, “We know what it is… what can we do?” But there were only 2 more stops. And life would whisk us off to our predetermined destinations. There wasn’t time to do anything. But we all watched carefully to make sure she didn’t fall.

I walked out of the train at Times Square thinking… if I felt helpless like that in the few moments that I saw her, I can only imagine what her family is going through. I prayed for them and her today. I hope they see light soon.

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