Quotes of Late

Jillien: Bae, how do you feel about going to the store to pick up eggs and bacon for  breakfast?
Lee: I don't feel good about it.
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Jillien: Ugh, my friend posted the nastiest shit i've ever seen in my life on Facebook today.
Lee: I hate when t hey do that
Jillien: i can't seem to get it out of my mind. I keep thinking about it and It literally makes me gag... What should I do?
Lee: Don't tell me about it...
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[The sounds of Lee playing Fifa in the background....Cheers from the tv]
Lee:....Fucker.

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Maggie: knock knock
Lia and I: Who's there?
Maggie: Orange
L&J: Orange Who?
Maggie: Orange you gunna eat?

---------------------------------------
Maggie: knock knock
Lia and I: Who's there?
Maggie: Grape
L&J: Grape Who?
Maggie: Orange you gunna eat?

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Maggie: knock knock
Lia and I: Who's there?
Maggie: Bee blop doobie da da blah
L&J: Bee blop doobie da da blah Who?
Maggie: Orange you gunna eat?

A Reader: 1968

You never got past page 115. I know because you never got around to lifting the dog-eared page you used to keep your place. Now 46 years later, the page is so precisely creased that I'm certain attempting to straighten it will only result in its tearing completely off.  You wrote a small prose In the back that I'm certain was Salinger induced, inspired, and impersonated. Although, I must admit that your small anecdote scribbled in the back empty pages of a long-forgotten, never read volume has been more successfully delivered than any such writing i've composed.

Douglas, May 1968. I also don't think I've ever seen a book so old yet so perfectly preserved – almost as if it's owner never fully opened any of the pages but gingerly manipulated open the book only as far as needed to uncomfortably read all the words.

One thing I know is that this book cost $.75 in 1968. I bought it for $.50 in 2014.  I probably would've paid $.75.

It's that good.

My Yellow Wallpaper is a 47" Smart TV

Slowly consuming all of my attention
And my sanity.
The images that peer through its screen
Entrap me.
I had my reservations
My protests
My vehement opposition
But I resigned
And now it's got hold of me.

glances

Long yet subtle--
Your glances show
A passion underneath,
Which no one knows.

Just a little bit

I've heard thousands sermons over the course of my life. Each one life-giving and spiritually fulfilling, but every now and again, a sermon will change my life--or at least my perspective on life, a behavior, or a mindset.  But in this particular instance, it took years for the message to fully saturate and for me to understand how truly wise it was.

Several years ago, probably over 5 years, I attended a sermon preached by Mike Haman of Healing Place Church in Baton Rouge. 

He was talking of his pre-teen daughter wanting to go to the movies with her girlfriends. The issue was not that she wanted to go to the movies but about the particular movie she wanted to see. When her father objected that the movie had foul language, violence, and racy material, her defense was that there was "only a little bit." There were only a few bad words, and a little bit of violence, and only a few racy scenes. Nothing to flip out about.

That's when Mike painted this picture:

Imagine I'm baking you cookies to enjoy when you get back from the movies. I spend a lot of time gathering the best ingredients: Ghiradelli milk chocolate chips, brown sugar, butter, flour, etc.. I'm stirring up my batter, but before I finish, I go to the backyard, scoop up a little bit of one our dog's turds, come back in, and mix it into the batter with the rest of the ingredients.

Now you and your girlfriends come back from the movies, and you smell the delicious, freshly baked cookies. Y'all are ready to eat, but before you dig in, I let you know all the care and delicious ingredients that went into making these cookies. I mention the chocolate chips, the sugar, and butter, and oh yea, a little bit of dog poo. 

You're disgusted. You refuse to eat these cookies. Even though they are made with choice ingredients, the dog poo has contaminated and ruined something that could have been so good. No matter how much I reassure you that I only put  A LITTLE TINY BIT of poo in them, you still refuse...

You see, this is how sin corrupts.  It only takes a little bit to contaminate the whole--in your marriage with lust or temptation, in your workspace with regard to ethics or honor, at your church with dissension and slander... Just a little bit, can ruin the whole.

Why did it take me so long to understand this message, I've no idea.

when I'm down

My biggest dream was to build you up
To be a pillar
To be a start
To something huge
And to be a guide
With all the wisdom
we gained through our lives.
That we could help you
And stand beside,
But through it all
We were wholly denied
Not a word was heeded
Not a request was granted
But instead the complete opposite happened.
We were pushed aside and overlooked
We were kept away while you chose a new look.
We were used for your service and taken for granted
And with each passing day of being unwanted
We saw more and more who you had become
And learned that we were no longer one
But divided and torn and fading and waning
And now you're history and our future is waiting

Yesterday

Looking back
And I like what I see.
A time of perfect anger and animosity
A time of perfect passion and never ending love
A time of perfect wondering and perfect giving-up.

Looking back
And I like what I see
Two people going somewhere together
But walking on different streets.

Looking back
And I like what I see
A young woman trying to find herself
With a cigarette, a beer, and short cut-off jeans.

Looking back
And I like what I see...

All Over

It's the gentle way you move your hands

The roughness of your beard

The strength in your back and arms

That keep my eyes glued here.

It's the smirk and straight white teeth

It's the dark, full head of  wavy hair

It's the way you think and speak 

That's got me going nowhere.

I let it wash all over me

I let it flow inside

I listen it to it when it speaks

And let it blow my mind.

My late night wandering

My heavy lids and frowning brow--

I'm still awake but don't know how,

Or better yet I don't know why.

Just a few more words and then I'll lie.

Jill Sweetie

You called me "Jill Sweetie"
Probably one of the only people in the world
Who has ever called me Jill.
It never sounded right when anyone said it.
But from you, it's pretty perfect.
Jill Sweetie...
After I said good bye
Because I knew you were drunk
And I couldn't take another minute of your rambling
I couldn't stand another second of thinking about
How stagnant you are.
It hurts me.
It pisses me off.
Remember when we were young?
Playing Marvel vs Capcom
Eating Mexican food
Skateboarding
Driving around in that old beat up car of yours.
That was before your DUI's
Before your drug addictions
Before your suspended license
Before your suspended life
Jill Sweetie...
It made me smile
It really did
Reminded me of how important we were to each other
Once.
It made me wonder if I were still that important to you
Now.

where are all the words?

On continuing the theme of thanksgiving

To my fellow story church'ers:

I stumbled this Sunday, but you held me aloft and prevented my fall.

Thank you.

Thank you Mr. Driver....

You waited for me to run across the intersection, before finally turning the corner behind me and driving off.

What you didn't know about the female runner pushing the jogging stroller with a sleeping 2 year old on this overcast morning was that I'm a quitter. Or I was gunna be a quitter. I had been planning on giving up once I reached that intersection and just turning back and going home. I had been thinking about quitting even before I started my run. I kept wondering how far I would go before I gave up.

See my intention when I set out today was to run all the way to Target. I needed to buy a helmet for my daughter, and since I don't have a car, I'm walking/running everywhere I go. But Target is about 2.5 miles away from home, and I knew once I ran all the way to Target, I'd eventually have to run all the way back home. It was too much for me to think about, and when my mind did settle on that daunting task it would imagine my inevitable failure.

I had run about a mile and half by the time I reached that intersection-- by the time you sat patiently waiting for me to cross, not knowing the battle within my mind. That small, simple, patient act inspired me to keep on running, which I did. I ran the 2.5 miles to Target. I bought the helmet, and then made the painful trek back home. Granted, the run back was like taking a ride on the pain train, and I again entertained thoughts of quitting and walking back  (which if you look at my pace, I'm sure you would think I had walked!) But I didn't. I kept my legs moving. I kept on pushing. I made it home and wrote this thank you note to you.

FWF--1682

My FWF prompt:

You find yourself in the lower level of an old ship. A calendar on the wall says  1682. There is a small window, and the view is nothing but open sea and a setting sun. There is a staircase and you can see daylight at the top…

Why am I so damn uncomfortable?

She thought as she woke from a fretful sleep--

As if she were being tossed side to side and back and forth while she dreamt.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the unusual darkness in her room.

This isn't my room!! Where the hell am I???!

The smell of salt water and wet wood overwhelmed her.

She heard the loud creaking sound of boards under extreme pressure.

The sloshing of water against a large blunt object.

The shouts of men above her--

Orders, she didn't understand.

And suddenly the distinct shuffling of rats scurrying below her feet.

Panicked she flung herself around the room,

Flinging and breaking small bottles off a small table near her bed.

She stretched high enough to glimpse outside the small round window.

Nothing but water and bright sunlight.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't think straight.

And suddenly words started coursing through her mind.

A mantra. Almost a prayer. Like she'd done it a million times:

My name is Annie Hidalgo. I'm from Harvey, Louisiana. I was born on February 4th, 1985.

My name is Annie Hidalgo. I'm from Harvey, Louisiana. I was born on February 4th, 1985.

My name is Annie Hidalgo. I'm from Harvey, Louisiana. I was born on February 4th, 1985.

I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy.

She saw a staircase on the far end of the room.

She slowly made her way up and peaked ever so carefully at the scene before her.

Men pulling at ropes on sails, mopping the deck, keeping watch high on the ship's masts.

They noticed her at once-- even though her large, frightened eyes were level with the deck.

She overheard a man whispering. 

Der she be. Wee lass touched in the head, she is.

Affecting an air of confidence, she popped her head and shoulders out quickly.

Trying to control her breathing and straightening her shoulders, 

She called out to the man nearest her.

"Hey you! Is this real?"

He paused before answering with a simple "Aye."

"What day is it?"

"...not this again. It is the 21st of March."

"And the year?"

"1682."

Just then a young handsome man came over to her.

"Ah Lady Elaine, you've awaken."

Lady Elaine? Does he think I'm Lady Elaine?

She responded quickly, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her terror,

"I think you must be mistaken, whoever you are. My name is Annie Hidal..."

"Yes, Yes of course you are." the man interrupted. 

"Have you had your syrups yet, m'lady?

You'll feel much better once you've taken your syrups."

Poor Financial Decision

We bought a tv. 47" tv. with money that I'd saved up. We paid cash. No debt. No hassle. No wondering how I'm gunna pay it off.... so why do i feel like throwing up?

Is it because I was proud of our little 25" tv? "we're not TV people I would say."

Six Hundred Dollars. gone.

Money I could have used to open an IRA for myself.

Or for 5 months membership at the YMCA

Or to pay for Lia to take piano lessons.

Or to buy sports equipment

Or....

Toward a new car.

Firestone called me today after checking on a "rubbing sound" Lee was concerned about.

$2000 to repair.

Two Thousand Dollars to repair a 2002 Nissan Altima.

A 2002 Nissan Altima that I spent $1200 in car maintenance last year.

Actually I've spent over $500 in repairs on that car every year that I've had it, if you can imagine that.


The catalytic converter. Alternator. Spark plugs. Breaks. Calipers. Tie Rods. Computer chips. yadda yadda yadda

We decided not to do the repairs.

We will be  a 1 car family.

A one car family with a 47" tv.

Stuck by the Woods on a Snowy Afternoon

The woods are but a narrow shield.

Concrete and metal and mess concealed

I look about me through the snow

Because I have been forced to yield

There's chaos on the streets today
The snow and ice kept most at bay
But we, on the road, thought better
And now we've learned there's no clear way

Cars and snow are all around.

But despite the crowd, I hear no sounds.

I stare out my car windows and see

Lone trees stoically standing ground

I sit and stare upon the wood
Still and Peaceful it all stood
Against the noise and fervent crowds
It bore the storm as only a tree could

The Walk

By that ancient river
Side by side
Me hiding and you pining
While the water flowed by.

Cannolis by the dozen
I was so hot that they felt frozen
I ate them just for you
And you bought them without knowin'.

I'm not one for sweets.
And being that close made me freak
I was sweatin' up a storm
And you were as cool as could be.

Remember the walk by the river?
Years ago and yet never clearer
Ages and lives have come and gone
And yet that memory still lives on.

Google is trying to take over my life

It's like I'm trapped in Orwell's 1984 and Google is big brother!

Everything I search

Everything I write

Is funneled through the all seeing eye that is google.

So when I started this blog a gazillion and a half years ago it was blogger. Just blogger. Then it was google's blogger. Then they forced me to join google+ through my gmail account. It got to the point where I couldn't opt out anymore. Then they linked my blogger to my google+ profile. Then they changed the commenting system so that people had to use their google+ profiles in order to comment. And that's all well and good, but I started noticing less people commenting and more people clicking the little check boxes by the comment section. So I just figured out how to turn off the google+ commenting, but then it freaking deleted all the comments that were posted through that system.

It's like the most frustrating thing in the universe. aaaAAAAARrRRRggggGGhhhHHh!

Here's the thing:

I'm a writer. 

I'm not famous.

No one knows me

Most people are accidentally reading this. 

For years #1 reason people were directed to this blog was because they googled "Is Ina Garten a Bitch?"

I just wanna share my writing.

When I was 19 this blog was like a journal chronicling every immature and retarded thing I wanted to do or say. Now at 28, it's the same thing, except that I've learned some self control and have become more guarded. I realize now more than ever that people can use my blog against me, professionally and personally. It makes me nervous and self-conscious.  So when I do post something, I don't want to feel like its a formal process. And I don't want my readers to have to jump through hoops to communicate with me. I also don't want them to feel like they need to register with Big Brother in order to do so.

I envy wordpressers. 

FWF

It pours on me
sometimes.
The skies open...
on purpose, I'm convinced.
And I'm gasping for a single breath
without choking on it all.
And the drops pelt every inch of me.
Until I can not bear another sensation
On my skin.
I feel like clawing at my body with the very
maddening nature of it all.
Then with an almost audible snap,
it shuts.
I dry slowly with time,
Then just to be cruel--
am not given a single drop more--
till my dryness is slightly uncomfortable.
Then nearly unbearable.
Where all my skin feels chapped.
And I imagine that all of it will chip away.
And I'm completely stagnant
Not wanting to move for fear of drying out further.
It's then that I think of you.

First published 11/20/2010

The Feeling

The later in the day
The stronger the feeling gets.
And my thoughts are filled with dancing girls
With sexy silhouettes.

And all at once I'm in the scene,
No longer in year two thousand fourteen,
But transported to a time long unseen
In New Orleans the summer I turned nineteen.

I see the bar through the haze of smoke
A group of friends laughing at some joke
And there I am so young and free--
'Smart and pretty,' like my momma taught me.

The night is hot, and the air hardly moves,
But we dance anyway in the crowded room.
We hug and we kiss and we drink and we play--
Confident that it would always be this way.

We were young, and we were dumb.
We played hard; we had fun.
We loved deeply and gave freely.
We slept long and studied measly.

I see all the faces when I close my eyes
And hearing them all singing makes me wanna cry
Just remembering and feeling it all over again
Me not knowing so not caring that this was the end

Early Christianity--Letters of Paul; Done

So for the last month I have been consumed with the letters of Paul. I signed up for Early Christinity course through HarvardX for free! It was definitely a unique learning experience for me, as I was taught by watching videos and annotating texts on rap genius.com and participating in discussions as part of my assignments.  I learned so much about Paul and of the time in which he was writing, but the most unexpected part of this class was how many ancient/ historical and contemporary texts outside of the NT writings we had to read. It was incredible! (I even shared some excerpts of those texts here and here). It enabled me to gain an understanding of the new testament that I probably would not have gained on my own study.

I mean I read 1 Corinthians at least 5 times in a 10 day span. Talk about delving deep. I read it searching for meaning for freedom and slavery. I reread it searching for the role of women. I read it yet again to gain an understanding of the value for wisdom in the 1st and 2nd century. I read its prescript. I read to evaluate Paul's use of rhetoric. I'm telling ya, I have read it in NIV, NABRV, NAB, and NRSV translations.

I would devote 6-8 hours of reading for a single class. Knowing that in 2 days, another 8 hours of reading would be assigned to me. I read from the deuterocanon. I read from disputed texts. I read from heretical texts. I read from Jewish histories. I read from Aristotle, Polybius, MLK Jr., and Josephus. I read and read and read.

And what did I gain from all this endless reading?

A deeper understanding of life in the 1st and 2nd centuries CE.
A respect for Paul and at the same time a disillusionment, in his teachings and in his message.

But most of all, I developed a yearning for the Word.

I'm telling ya, when the course started, I was overwhelmed with reading of all these letters. I was pushing through them-- carelessly annotating them with generalities and obvious observations from the texts. But as the weeks went on, I became used to the reading of these difficult ancient and biblical texts. Then toward the end, I couldn't wait for my next assignment. It was as if I were left empty until the next wave of readings were announced.

Now that the class is done, I'm searching my shelves for what to read next, but nothing jumps out at me. I know I want to read something spiritual, but I miss the community, and the discussions, and the forums, and the debates. I miss gaining knowledge not just from the professor but from the teaching fellows, from my peers, and from the research i did outside the class.

I want more.

Real Strong Women

Real strong women,

Independent

Liberated

Smart

Bold

Empowered

and

Enlightened,

Value Life. 

Polybius Histories--Insight to the darkness within

Spendius and his men then led out from the camp Gesco and the other prisoners, in all about seven hundred. Taking them a short distance away, they first of all cut off their hands, 12 beginning with Gesco, that very Gesco whom a short time previously they had selected from all the Carthaginians, proclaiming him their benefactor and referring the points in dispute to him. 13 After cutting off the hands they cut off the wretched men's other extremities too, and after thus mutilating them and breaking their legs, threw them still alive into a trench.

81 1 The Carthaginians, when news came of this unhappy event, could take no action, but their indignation was extreme, and in the heat of it they sent messengers to Hamilcar and their other general Hanno imploring them to come and avenge the unfortunate victims. 2 To the assassins they sent heralds begging that the bodies might be given up to them. 3 Not only was this request refused but the messengers were told to send neither herald nor envoy again, as any who came would meet with the same punishment that had just befallen Gesco. 4 With regard to treatment of prisoners in the future, the mutineers passed a resolution and engaged each other to torture and kill every Carthaginian and send back to the capital with his hands cut off every ally of Carthage, and this practice they continued to observe carefully. 5 No one looking at this would have any hesitation in saying that not only do men's bodies and certain of the ulcers and tumours afflicting them become so to speak savage and brutalized and quite incurable, but that this is true in a much higher degree of their souls. 6 In the case of ulcers, if we treat them, they are sometimes inflamed by the treatment itself and spread more rapidly, while again if we neglect them they continue, in virtue of their own nature, to eat into the flesh and never rest until they have utterly destroyed the tissues beneath. 7 Similarly such malignant lividities and putrid ulcers often grow in the human soul, that no beast becomes at the end more wicked or cruel than man. 8 In the case of men in such a state, if we treat the disease by pardon and kindness, they think we are scheming to betray them or deceive them, and become more mistrustful and hostile to their would‑be benefactors, 9 but if, on the contrary, we attempt to cure the evil by retaliation they work up their passions to outrival ours, until there is nothing so abominable or so atrocious that they will not consent to do it, imagining all the while that they are displaying a fine courage.10 Thus at the end they are utterly brutalized and no longer can be called human beings. Of such a condition the origin and most potent cause lies in bad manners and customs and wrong training from childhood, but there are several contributory ones, the chief of which is habitual violence and unscrupulousness on the part of those in authority over them. 11 All these conditions were present in this mercenary force as a whole and especially in their chiefs.

Eucharist-- at the very heart of the Catholic Faith

"Many ecclesiastics want to make me known through sophisticated arguments and complex reasonings,  forgetting the Eucharist, which is my very substance, and the sublime simplicity of the Gospels, which I proclaim. This is like throwing mud at simple people." (Cf. Message to Julia Kim, September 22, 1995)

"My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest."

I've been reading the Martin Luther King's letter from Birmingham jail for the course on Early Christianity.

The exercise was to compare Paul's letters from the 1st century with that of MLK in the 20th.

But so many profound statements were made during MLK's letter that I found myself crying many times before I finished my reading, which took me two days to complete.

I have been feeling in my heart that God has more in store for me--that he made me capable of more than what I've done thus far. I have been so unsettled recently with just the need to make something happen.

So coming across this quote of an older black women during a very dark period of civil unrest in the south, "My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest." I was instantly inspired. 

My God!  I want to feel that. I want my soul to be at rest with the peace of knowing that I worked tirelessly for the Lord.

Get Motivated! 

St. Catherine of Sienna said, "We we become who were are called to be, we will set the world ABLAZE!"

I've written it before, but I write it again!

Be Motivated!

where am i

I've a few friends who have posted what they read in 2013.But for the life of me I can't figure out which books I read last year or didn't read last year. It's like every book I've read is so fresh in my mind it feels like just yesterday that I last laid it down. 

Anyway I feel inclined to at least mention what I'm doing now and why I'm doing it. 

I'm currently reading: 

David Copperfield 

Stiff--the curious life of human cadavers

The Peacemaker--a biblical guide to resolving personal conflict

I'm reading david Copperfield because it's a classic and every so often I like to sharpen my classic reading skills. It's slower and sadder than books today , and I love it for that. 

Stiff, because it's interesting and morbid. I find it irresistible. 

The peacemaker, I'm reading because I have to figure out what I want more--respect or peace. 

I'm also taking a course online. It's called Early Christianity: letters of Paul. I'm doing this because I want to get my master's degree or a graduate certificate and I feel like I need to start getting used to academia. This is a certificate course not one for credit, but it's only to get me going. 

I can't just keep reading for no reason and storing knowledge with no outlet and no respect. Who cares if you're smart? It's all about what your stupid linked in profile says you are.