thoughtful #afterthoughts

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……afterthoughts

Other things my fear kept from you (read: me):

thoughtful [thought·ful / THôtfəl] adjective: absorbed in our involving thought; or…showing consideration for the needs of other people; or…showing careful consideration or attention; but really …painting chess pieces, sending time capsule’d care packages across time zones, peanut butter cookies with fork prints, scrapbooks, and ‘what not to wear’ inspired wardrobe make overs.

…him… …him…once told me what he wanted for Christmas. My somebody to love. We hadn’t yet spoken those words to each other, but we were in that space and time and doing the lovely things to one another that meant that word. What he wanted was above and beyond what he could do for himself at the time. But he wanted it anyway. I have to admit, that was a lovely thing about …him… To be in that hopeful expectant place, and be inspired. The intonations in his voice. How he spoke to assuredly. Like he could see into the future. I suppose he has a prophesize’n way about him.  

For months, on purpose, with fine attention to detail, and sales, I granted that Christmas wish. Not for ego, or vanity, or some type of reward, or even because we had lovely ways about each other. I did it because I knew that it might make him happier that he had been that entire year. Sure there were awesome things that happened to him. But I knew him well enough, in what little loveliness we had, to know that if he counted is good times, and bad times, he’d be lucky if he had more of the former that year. 

 I was absolutely right. Completely correct. I shall never forget a single minute of that fleeting moment. Every now and again, when I get lost in my after-it-all thoughts, I end up there. Full of a feeling I haven’t known in years. That memory is almost a decade old. And so is that energy. That enthusiasm. That engagement in a task. Not even sure I could muster up the eagerness to do such a thing ever again.

Promises. I actually promised myself I would never do that specific a thing again. Make something happen for someone I thought lovely things about, like the way I did…him…

Problem being, most people won’t be committed enough to you to carefully construct something that will mean the world to you. Sooner than you think, lovely will end.

 And all the moments you captured for memories won’t feel the same.

…a man… much later in my life after lovely went away #HesGoneToo, once told me that I was thoughtful. Because I remember things. I was so intrigued by that remark, you know. Don’t we all remember? Well, me? Not really. I actually forget more things than I remember – at least I think I do. I’m so good at forgetting, I can tell my staff team what things they need to remind me of, and what things they don’t, because I know, consciously what ish I’ll forget just as soon as they tell me.

At least I thought I was good at forgetting stuff (not on purpose, my job is stressful sometimes, yo). That man didn’t feel the same way about it. About my remembrance. It, my ability to remember him, was confounding. Because…a man…didn’t remember people they way that I did.

Before the discussing ended …a man… asked me about all of this. In a space and time where I had nothing to lose. I could have worked through some of my emotional mess. But my thoughts were so full of fear. What would I allow myself to say? And what would those words mean? How could I have manufactured a way unwittingly to this particular moment in life #musiq ? What was I not over-nonsensically thinking?

My thoughts filled that train ride home. #LocalTrainToSJ #MakesAllStops

If

 I had that moment again, I might have told …a man… that perhaps somewhere on the inside, I decided to love other people in ways I’m probably never going to be loved. I mean, I hope and pray to the Lord that I am loved in these ways one day – but it doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen…at least not in the ways I hoped it would…or using the timeline I *so humbly* suggested. #GuessIHaventSweptThatDressAllTheWayUp #AshesLeftOver

And, because…well, I am afraid someone (else) will tell me I’m not worth the thoughtfulness of remembering…because someone (else) already told me how they never felt about me and how that never changed (and never would change). Which I can’t seem, for the mental health of me, to unremember (made that word up too, because unremembering was probably the point of the telling).

How can anyone live life for any amount of time not worth the thought of being remembered? Or being remembered in a lovely way? Did you know that the act of remembrance is lifesaving? It’s an act of love.

And you cannot love what you cannot remember.

fear, like all addictions

never really goes away

try all you can

…and you’ll surely have another fearful day.

if i’ve not learned anything well at all

not living my life as fully as i could

i figured out that with

patience,

forgiveness,

courage,

and a (lot bit) of prayer

one can keep your fear at bay.

have faith,

you will be afraid my love,

…and have so many more brave days.

#DoingItAfraid #JustLikeTamesaSaid #SheSoSmartAndKindAndImportant 

#INeed2CatchUpWithHer #ItsBeenTooLong #ButClearlyIRememberHer #ThatsLove

This is the end.

Like For Real, For Real. #IsYouMadOrNah?

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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