acquiesce

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acquiesce [ac·qui·esce / akwēˈes] noun: when you just ain’t got it in you and you wanna be a quitter and set fire to the flame like Adele but you’re a bougie black girl who knows Jesse Williams is EVERYTHING so you have to use words he might tweet to make your soul feel better than it does…and we’re sorta in a drought anyway so playing with fire is frowned upon. #nobodyisfooled #yougotretweetedtho

T

hen you remember, again, that time you should have called in sick. But didn’t. Dummy

It wasn’t that bad you’re sick and you feel like your life is over. It actually didn’t sting that much. You kinda knew it, so when you had it confirmed, you were like, well…you do be prophesize’n stuff you know. #TheEye *shrug*

I just didn’t want to. Why? What was the purpose of going out in the world that day? Why can’t you stay in bed and just let life happen for a little while? So I did…and didn’t. I had no desire to put on all that armor so I could navigate my mildly microaggressed life in ways that left me just barely able enough to mend my emotional mess. The armor is far too heavy Lord, and I got like hella sick time, so…*cough*cough* my dude *cough*cough*. Swerve on that work day, sick hours. Swerve on’em.

Remember Morris Chestnut from The Brothers? I get it now. You think you’re doing exactly what you should be doing to get the life you want to have, only to find out doing exactly what you should isn’t what you should be doing at all. Did I confuse you? I know, I told you, it’s crazy up in my axons and dendrites. But remember him? He got to a point where he just decided not. It’s too hard. Too challenging. Like, I’m really bad at this. I must have this sick relationship with failure, because I keep coming back for more. Why would any rational human being, with a superbowl winning streak like the Buffalo Bills in the 90s even think it possible?

Well, I am no rational human being. And I believe in the worst (read: hopelessly hopeful) parts of me that I am going to have this love I’ve fantasized about…or something better than it. This it is not like any of its predecessors.

But if I have learned anything, I know with great certainty, knowledge, and scientific experimentation that a man has to want that it in his own way. Not exactly how you want it, but want in a way that has you chatting often, hugging often, laughing together, wondering about the other, knowing the answers to unasked questions, being able to anticipate next words, and loving that there is someone that knows things about you that you have not gotten the chance to share.

In a moment of carelessness on gchat, we…well, chatted. I figured I was going to be late for work, might as well make it interesting, right? Everything is still so unclear. There is so much I don’t know. I mean, I know the bottom line. But I don’t know the why. Why me? What was it about me to even get to this point?

I think about our conversations, how I feel when I’m around you. The goofiness, the hugs, the chill time, the adventures, the randomness, the running, the weirdness…there is a lot…including me driving everywhere, and you not knowing anything about cars.

I was supposed to tell him what I think about. How I feel…*sigh* nah, I won’t. I acquiesce. That would be too much to do. Just ask another question. You’re on a roll.

Calm and chaotic at the same time. It’s not a bad feeling. You are random but soothing.

Not everyone gets that I exist in these extremes – these opposites. That for every thing I’ve ever felt, I have felt equally its converse with the same intensity and passion. For those who do get it, on their own or with my assistance, they always feel some kind of way about it. And it’s usually a type of way they never say they wish would change – but probably prayed a few times that it would. Unlike him, they might have described it as a bad feeling. Like, not-good-ish feeling. Soothing tho? Soothing? That’s the word you choose?

I do. Yes, those are the words I choose (yooouuuuu baby!!). I acquiesced though. So I can’t. He didn’t ask a question anyway. You did.

…and you also have more sick time.

Swerve on the rest of my work week, sick hours.

Swerve on'em.

This is the end-ish.

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eventually

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eventually [e·ven·tu·al·ly / əˈven(t)SH(əw)əlē] adverb: bruh, my dude, anything that feels that good has got to happen again…now when it happens, i’on’even know, but it’s gonna happen…trust and believe that…we’re going to do that again…but...

I

 didn’t realize I was waiting. How crazy is that? To be actively not waiting, but deep down on the inside feeling like you’re stuck on repeat, Christmas morning. That moment when you wake up, sit in front of the Christmas tree, figuring out where all your presents are, being careful not to touch any of them, because even though Daddie & Mommie didn’t put them there, Santa told them how he placed them, so they’ll know – and if you touch one, you’re gonna get it. Then you hear from depths of the hallway, your parents approaching, looking back, but body facing forward, just waiting to catch their eyes – to get that look, so Christmas can be begin. As soon as you look up to see them, you wake up in your bunk bed to start all over. The repeated loop of a time that hasn’t happened yet.

But you’re sitting there. Marveling at the multi-colored lights waiting.

What is it about getting older and getting some of the things you want, but needed someone else’s cooperation (read: flight confirmation) to have the rest of that crap you’re hopelessly after?

I need it yo. *looks left/right for ‘lost in time’ fix* *neck scratch*

When you asked Mom "when" she was taking you to Disneyland.

It’s the perfect place for him. He gets to figure it out in his own time. And he’s got plenty of that because eventually is the deadline for eventually. Like legit, when it happens, he won’t be late getting to it at all.

It’s the perfect predicament for me. Life is happening all around me. It’s interesting, it’s entertaining, it’s funny, and it’s probably as random as you could not think it would be. All these moments happening, and I want to save some for him. But you can’t save for eventually. You can’t hold on to the awesomely awful thing that happened on the train because eventually something else will happen while you’re waiting on eventually to get here. And you’ll want to tell him about that thing.

Told you. Loop. Repeat.

But there is an upside. You learn to live. Not in the way he taught you in that first lesson. But in a way that builds upon those foundational pieces. When you sit there (figuratively) waiting and watch that awesome thing pass because you refused to moved, you get sad.

Okay, first you get mad – because you didn’t think it was time yet, but you were waiting just in case. Because you remember all those times you were waiting for the bus/train and you left right before it arrived, and it ended up taking you longer because you weren’t being patient enough…so you wait dammit. But, this time you weren’t supposed to wait. You were supposed to leave.

Then you realize, much like insurance, you are going to pay a lot more into it than you get out of it, right? There will be sooooo many more sunny days than rain clouds. And you would have wasted that beautiful sunshine underneath an umbrella looking down the tracks to see if the train was ton the way #HeIsntComingToday. You could have been looking up into the glory of God’s creation. And smiling about that.

Eventually he will get here. And you’ll have the time of your life. You’ll be able to add a few more chapters to all this. Define some new ish.

…like that baby you both spoke of.

 Or, eventually you’ll realize that all that waiting was in vain. And you’ll be able to define some other ish. And perhaps you will learn the real lesson he was (not even) trying to teach you.

Eventually will eventually get here – whether you wait on it or not. Crazy how the universe works out that way, right? Conspiring against your non-sensically-thinking self.

The real conundrum though: will you eventually forgive yourself for all the waiting you’ve done and have yet to do? Or will you eventually get on with it? 

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(new)normal

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(new)normal [(new)nor·mal / (no͞o)nôrməl] noun: a clumsy haphazard (re)stabilization of your life after the post-traumatic experience of engaging fully, life first into it and being completely logical through something that was never meant for much logic and since you knew that, you did it anyway because you don’t decide stuff too good, so now you have to get your life…again.

I

 make bad decisions bro. Really bad decisions. Well, that’s not completely true. How can any of this be bad? It felt wonderful. It feels wonderful to be reminded of it. The fleeting thoughts of it leave me in the most rapturing wonder. Everything about this was what it was supposed to be. That should be enough. When all about you, things have fallen apart, this one thing didn’t break. No cracks. Not even a scratch or a smudge. Sure, it doesn’t look the way you wanted, but c’mon bruh! He’s smiling in the selfie WITH you for the love of Jessica Simpson heels!!!
 

How could you want anything more?

Bless God for that, right? No? Maybe?!?! See!!! If it has to be temporary, or fleeting, or sporadic, can it just be good (to me)? It is well. Well, until it’s not well – I be oscillating between my feelings.
 

I’m okay though. Besides, too much other wonderful is happening. Seeing old friends via conference travels to awesome places. Networking with colleagues (read: hoping I bump into that cute guy again – not like i’ll know what to say, but…bump, because, well…awkward). Jesus! I’m so awkward! How is that even possible?!
 

Music is all about me (for always). Live shows at SF Jazz have been giving me every inch of my righteous (and ratchet) life. I mean, each and every inch.
 

I even managed a few #MedalMondays. And a half marathon PR! #MyGodIsShowingOut
 

Perhaps it’s not just this. It may all be me. See, I thought I burned that wedding dress. You know, the one I never decided on, wore, and danced in. Those pictures were hella never cute, because I didn’t take any. I was convinced I let go of all I was supposed to have because – right? No? Maybe?!?! See!!!
 

Like, even though I made some poor choices, I got the ones that really counted right? #SisterOfTheProdigalDaughterTypeThinking… I did the really important ones just as I was supposed to – perfect scores. I seriously believed that. Not in my complete perfection, but, partial perfection? Yup. Nailed it. It was supposed to happen already. It is supposed to be happening to me right now. I am supposed to be happy – exactly as I envisioned it!

Okay, perhaps I got carried away. #PutsFireDown

 

*le sigh* It never happens as it should.

I’m sure I burned that dress. I was so sure I did. Like positive. I hella love fire #ItsAlwaysLeoSeason. I think I just forgot to sweep up the ashes and dust. I was too busy trying to get some other life lost in the matrix, I never minded to clean up my own life in the real world. So this perpetual allergy-feelings-attack keeps coming back.

 

Pass me the Swiffer and Clorox wipes…and a few of those tissues. Let me get this done before the next show starts. I don’t want to miss my train. #ExpresToSF

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circumstantial

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circumstantial [cir·cum·stan·tial / sərkəmˈstan(t)SH(ə)l] adjective: it feels like that thing you’ve been longing for, but you know for certain that it’s not; he makes you feel the way you always wanted to feel, but you can’t be flying here and there every weekend, cause bills homey; you get that gigglie feeling on the inside, and it bugs the hell out of that logical knowing on the inside, right next to it.

M

iles give you time to think. And we all know how I fair with that thinking stuff #MeNoThinkieTooGood. I thought about all the times we’ve spent together. We had so many lovely moments. From red dresses to blue crusty foam blocks…and all of the car rides in between. Conversations about the most important things in our worlds, and shoe sales. Cause the mall is right there and I really wanna go, but we are in traffic, so he’s not so excited about another shoe store…cause looking at my feet in all the shoes and carrying all the boxes is apparently only fun for one of us. Who knew? *shrugs*

So, how do these look on me? They look fine. You said that about the other pair? Do you like these better? *done with me* Let’s face it. You’re going to get them all. Why must we do this? *in my ‘you don’t know me, you don’t know my life’ voice* No I’m not. I’m really trying to decide! I don’t want to have to buy them all. Help me out. Okay, yes, I like those better.

*****at the cash register*****

Next Shoe Lover?! So, I want these. And these…and what do you think? These too, or nah? Yeah, right? I told you. Ugh. Fine. Whatever. *store clerk to me* He’s just accepted the fact that you love shoes. You got a good one. I suppose I do.

Wait. What did you just say? You got a good what? A good sale? Oh…you said one, right? As in, reference to a person. Oh, okay. How about you suppose yourself right back to reality. In this place you have a good part-time lova’ *in my carrie bradshaw voice* #OleSexlessInThisSunnyCitySelf. On weekends, months and months apart. Ain’t no benefits being paid out for this. He doesn’t work enough hours for that. I mean, he wouldn’t be upset if the position came with benefits, but um, that work schedule would have to stay the same. So, there is that.

And you don’t work enough hours either. Not the hours you spend thinking about this – hunnie, you’d be salaried. Your actual hours are part time too. You work an occasional weekend. A conversation here and there. You sometimes think it might be some type of wonderful to have some additional hours, dental, and vision for the occasional old-age issue, but that ain’t happening. You have no responsibilities that extend beyond anything serious. Yall play house. It’s damn convincing though. The clerk had no idea that was fake.

You ever thinking about acting?

Here’s your motivation: try acting like this whole thing isn’t a big deal, okay?

Okay!

Action

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inextricable

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inextricable [in·ex·tri·ca·ble / ĭn-ĕk′strĭ-kə-bəl] adjective: what you call the silence in your mind because you just can’t seem to find your way any which way; the response you give people when they ask what’s wrong with you because the silence of your mind looks kind of terrible on you and you need a word that accurately describes that but distracts from your appearance. #LostInTheMatrix

I

 should have called in sick. Jesus. You know how heavy baggage like that can be?  #heavy #overweight #extrabaggagefees #youflyDelta… For the love of shoe sales, save me from this! They say that doing the same thing the same way and expecting a different outcome is insanity. But what if you did it different ways and got the same thing, what’s that called?

I mean, damn man. I took my weave (read: braids) out. Showed you what my naturally chemically processed and colored hair looks like. I went out into nature, terrified of crawly things and rain. I did something new. And I got this. The same damn thing.

An Easter weekend trip out of town. To see this unintelligible guy. And, get a medal because…ain’t no man keeping me from #14in2014, and actually, he kinda likes it too #aintputaringonittho #ormedal. You’re in this silent place in your heart where you know it isn’t any thing, but it feels really right. Really easy. How can someone, a man, feel so right for me, but not for me? At least not now. And why is jet fuel so expensive?

Now. Fix your face. Get your head out of wanderland. Find the baggage claim. You’re here.

You know what I have learned about myself? I’m a pretty decent temporary somebody #Love4Rent #LoveOnLoan. Oh yea. Three to four days, you will have the time of your life. We’ll laugh, we’ll lay around, we’ll love the most random moments, and then we’ll leave. You to your life, and me to longing. Longing for all of it again, but for longer the next time. Like a lifetime. #LetsBeButterflies #KissingSunflowers #ThatNextLifetimeTho

It wasn’t a perfect weekend, but it was really amazing. We danced. We ran. We praised. We ate. And we played. Just about every request was granted – just because. It is only now, what we are in the distant place, that I wonder why. Was it my smile? The inflections in my voice? The oddness of the request? My touch to his shoulder? The excitement in my eyes? I have no idea why he never said No to me. Perhaps it was because I wouldn’t be there forever. So, why not? *shrugs*

While we waited to TapN'Run, he bumped into friends and folks he knew. We would walk around casually, speaking about things that did not matter much, and someone would catch his eye. Everything caught my eye. I get lost in life watching. It’s not just the people, it is all the things all about them. Sale signs, awesome running costumes, shoes, drunk people, storefronts, street, cars…everything. I watch life so much, that I sometimes get lost. You know, lose the group I’m with to get lost in everything around me. I didn’t recognize this as a child, and often ended many family outings. It is only at this age that I am more thoughtful about my misdirection. Without thinking, I reached out for his arm, and wrapped my hand about the crease and elbow. Almost for the dragging, we continued on until the start of the race. He never asked me why. He never seemed perturbed by it, or annoyed by it. He just let it happen. Never spoke of it.

The night before leaving, we had a little fun. Not like the fun we’d been having, but some other kind of fun. You know, grown up, break a sweat, wear you out fun, right? Yup.

Indoor. Trampoline. Park.

I was in that joint like Miss Millie dropping off Miss Sophia off for Christmas. We can stay? Alllll Night?? Oh, just for the time printed on this wristband? Okay. Well at my age, that’s gonna feel like all night. So, let’s get this thing started!

Man, I was out there auditioning for the USA Gymnastics Team. And by auditioning for the team, I was bouncing around in a circle, probably no more than five to six inches high. Having the time of my life. Conversely, my companion was performing his Gold Medal winning routine in the last Olympic Games. Jerk. I mean, he was, it was, man, that dude has skills. And I admired them from afar. In my little corner, away from the kids, feeling awesome.

At the place where some of my dreams became actualized, there was a foam pit. Hanging from the ceiling a rope, swinging to and fro. I watched the brave little darlings (read: ah’neh’mind…I shouldn’t speak ill of children anyway, those adorable little tax deductions) get a running start, grab that rope – some of them with just one hand – and dive into the foam, sinking into the splendor of the soft cubes. I watched with so much eagerness. Then I thought to myself…yea, your health coverage doesn’t cover this. How’sa’bout a hard pass hunnie? You have a flight tomorrow afternoon.

He could see the want in my heart. As did the young man working the ball pit area. I gave them both all the rational excuses, because, well, old age is nothing to play with. I built my monument with my irrational fear of breaking my decades old bones on foam cubes, because that makes total sense. I don’t have a back problem and I’d like to keep it that way. My vertical can be measured by a ten calorie ginger ale can, and I think that you need more air than that to successfully facilitate such a swing. The young man working laughed it off. But him? He was not having any part of that.

Just do it. You know you want to. I don’t think I can. I might hurt myself. Are you being serious right now? You’ll be just fine. Um, okay. Wait no. I shouldn’t. But, maybe? Are you going to come get me when I hurt myself? *laughing a little* Yea, I’ll be right here.

He took a picture of me standing on the podium with the rope in my hand, happily awaiting my demise. I was so nervous. I wanted him there, but then, I thought, Um, maybe I should just not – do I really want him to see me like this? Welp, too late. Yo’scary arse done already told him that you want him here. Might as well show him what that six inch vertical do #notmuch.

I said a quick prayer, smiled for the camera, and took off. I could not have been in the air more than five seconds…because a six inch vertical and a running start that’s the equivalent of walking fast means…you didn’t get too high up. But you got high up enough to fall butt first into a pit of crusty foam cubes. And…you’re drowning. You can’t get out of this pit. Children shorter than you (which also isn’t by much) climbed out of here like there was a staircase, but you my friend, you are sinking deep in the pit. Close to the crusty floor. Barely deep, but sinking still, right down to the pit’s foam floor.

He encouraged me on the way out of the cube pool. Like a coach, he yelled out critiques of my movements and suggested plays. After a few setbacks, I eventually made it to the edge where he stood, extending his hand. The look on his face was easy. Not extremely emotional any particular way. It wasn’t about him knowing that I could do it, or proud that I did. He was just him being in the moment with me, being my witness, the holder of my special moment.

I felt like an exhale.

Then the morning came. He got dressed for work. I packed my bags. He left for work. I organized stuff and watched Oliver Queen. He came home. I prepared my belongings. He carried my bags to the car. I attempted to make my peace with what all this wasn’t. He drove me to the airport. I rode in silence – only speaking in response to inquiry. He parked curbside. I opened my own door. He stood my bags beside me. We kissed.

It stole all the air inside of me.

#fireworks #explosions #activations #sadnesses #allofthesads #kinda

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