Keys Revisited Revisited:

All this time I was searching (and then not searching) for my keys, I only just recently realized that I was someone else's set.


There's someone out there that, when he writes for me (hell, when he talks to, texts, Tweets, or sends me smoke signals), it melts my heart, and softens it in ways  and in places I didn't know it was calloused and hard. When I'm having a tough go at it, he is that thing that reminds me that it won't always be so tough or so hard. In short, I've found my keys, the thing, the person, that motivates and moves me along on this journey, the person helping me to unlock all these doors that have been standing in my way.


The thing is, once you've found your keys, and you start noticing how doors seem to open easier, that you're able to start your mode of transport and go, you don't want to lose them. And that is a sentiment that Tarzan seems to struggle with. 


I wish I had new words to tell him how "there" I am with him. With anything new, there's fears of the unknown of it, the things you can't predict or plan for. Like, love. I for one wasn't looking to fall in love, at least not anymore. I was content learning and leaning on myself, finding out the things that make me who I am, and how to incorporate that into all aspects of my life. And then here he goes, like that part of a dream you're holding onto in that place between awake and asleep, that thing that makes the whole day glow and feel brighter and better than any other day. 


Yes, I'm in love, and I paint the world in pastel shades as of late, but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't have my fears of love. Such horrible things have been said and done to and by me in the name of "love" or things that masquerade as love. I've seen love turn into discontent and lose it's luster. I've seen people lose all God-given sense and their will to move forward due to love, but those aren't the things I fear.


I fear I won't be enough. I fear I'll be too much. I fear he won't like how I look, or will shut himself off once we start really learning each other. What I do not fear, though, is losing him. I don't fear that so much as I know it's always a possibility; rather I use it to my advantage to remind me to be the best chick I can be for him. I'm of the belief though, that when a heart is given to you and you treat it well, you never lose it. Can things change? Can feelings shift? Yes, but once a person has your heart, they'll always have a piece of it; even if we don't work out (which I sincerely hope we take this as far as we possibly can) I already know he's got a large piece of me.


You can't unlock a person like me, a person with trust issues and insecurities that seem to be taller than she is, and not know how amazing that is. But it seems that he doesn't realize the talent he has in that area. When things are bothering me, he's become the person I think of telling first - not so he can coddle or encourage me, but so that I can genuinely get his input and feel that calm and clarity that his voice and presence brings me.  And for that reason, among many others, is the reason he can't lose me. 


He's got me. There's no two ways about it that, as long as he wants me, I'll be there.  When I read and hear how I've already had a bit of an influence on him, that he uses my slang, or how he feels about me... There's nothing in the world quite like that. And for that very unique reason, he'll never lose this pair...this set rather, of really flattered, humbled and happy keys. 

What Am I Waiting On...

I was perusing Youtube last night and came across this sensual, smooth and sexy video from Marlon Palmer and a very gorgeous Amber Rose looking woman. It got me to wondering, what it was I am really waiting on with this whole sex thing?

I'm a virgin. I'm not sure if you've picked up on that or not, but yep. I think the misconception about me is that I either represent all virgins (not the case) or I fall into the stereotype of the "virgin friend" (certainly not the case). I find myself the recipient of a lot of late night calls from friends asking for advice on love, life, and yep, sex. I know a lot. I haven't done anything, but I tend to know little things that make the big moment a great experience for others. Small things like candle light (some girls are too self-conscious for full light but love the thrill of being seen), a playlist of long jazz tracks (so not only are there no lyrics to get tangled up in, the risk of "Can't Nobody Love You Like Jesus" popping up is very slim), or even simple things like massages with warm oil (Sweet almond <3) are suggestions I've made to my girls (and yes, even my boys).

One of the boys broached the subject of the type of lover I go for as he's never heard me make mention of my own sex life. I had to break it to him gently that A) I don't have a sex life and B) I hadn't really given much thought to it as I'm waiting on a certain someone or something.

But that video up there? It sums up everything I'm waiting on. There's a slow sensuality to it. A playful seriousness. A little spice/excitement/voyeurism with the camera. There's respect (he's not rushing it), and there's equal admiration as both of them just take their time to enjoy each other. Not to say it doesn't get hot, but whereas I feel most people think a bomb is what needs to go down, I think a smoldering fire is the way to get things done. Plus that song? Geez... it's perfect. It has a classic R&B/Soul feel, it's not overly sexual a la "You Remind Me Of My Jeep" (nor as crass and unintentionally hilarious). It kind of promotes the same smoldering sexy that I go for.

So to answer the question, what I'm waiting on is someone who understands the nuances of my sensuality. Someone who'll appreciate my slowness and not mistake it for stalling but understand it as a fascination or admiration of their form. Someone patient and knowledgeable, one who doesn't mind teaching and being taught. I'm waiting on a kind heart, someone who doesn't rush and wants to get to know me as a person first. Someone smart enough to know the traditional game of seduction, but still throw in new age game in there. I'm waiting for a counterpart, someone worth my effort who'll put in equal work. Someone serious, but not enough to not have some fun with.

I'm waiting on me, too. Waiting to become comfortable enough with my scars, physical and otherwise, to truly let someone in enough to trust them with my body. I have kind of a teenage boy's fear of getting naked and someone either pointing and laughing or becoming completely disgusted. I know the likelihood of that happening is slim, but because I'm not yet fully comfortable I can't really rule that out. I'm waiting on a relationship with someone, not just a casual "nice shoes...wanna have sex?" sort of fling; I'm waiting on hand holding, cuddling, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I'm waiting on a person willing to know me, not just know my body.

In short, I'm waiting on the right person and the right time. At 21 apparently that's refreshing. Not sure if it'll be the same if I reach 45 this way, but... Whereas before I didn't think there was hope for me, in that way, I'm not convinced that I'm up to the challenge. It's just about finding that guy who's right up to it with me and willing to put in the work.

The Plight of the Superwoman

Everyone has that friend. The one who's doing it all with very little sweat, tears or fanfare. The one with all their stuff together, ducks in a row, and they just make it all look so easy you wonder why you couldn't do it. We all know that superwoman, and some of us are that superwoman.


I've been the "superwoman" friend as long as I could remember having friends. I was the one with the assignment done the week it was assigned (or pulled an A from thin air an hour before class). I was the one with all the relationship answers, despite lacking my own relationship to test it out in. I was the one with the quiet, modest plan in life to be a super glamorous, highly respected high school English teacher, simply because, of all the things I could do, molding young people's minds was the one that stuck out the most.


I am a superwoman. Not by choice, rather by circumstance so I am often tired and under-appreciated, or rather feel that way because I don't take time to rest and appreciate myself. The plight of the superwoman is in her quiet nature; because she is so sure and steady, people take her minute motions and gestures for granted, and as such, she starts to take herself for granted. 


I am a superwoman. When everyone leans on me I am a rock, I never falter. If they ask me the same question a thousand times my answer never changes. On my own, in the quiet between the dark and the dawn I have to still my own waters, be my own rock not because there's no one who will listen, but often those people who listen will somehow always turn the conversations back on themselves, or spout cliche'd -isms they've read on plaques and bumper stickers that never fully fit me. I have to find my own mold, in the quiet when I should be sleeping, I often find myself sorting through feelings, thinking or daydreaming of a day when I'll no longer be tired, when life will fall into place.


 I'm a superwoman, but I'm still a woman. I find I crave the things that used to scare me so. I don't know how to get out there to go get those things I really want, but have recognized my issues and am taking very small and short steps before making a running leap into the unknown. I'm insecure about my body and sometimes wonder if I'm unattractive to men my age as so few of them approach me. Wonder if now, like in middle and high school, my wit and advanced state of mind has me in the minority yet again. 


I'm a woman. I think a lot before I do anything. I work really hard and sleep a lot less. I'm always writing and creating things in my mind. I still like to color with Crayons and listen to offensive rap music in the same hour I'll listen to jazz and alternative. I cook barefoot while listening to soul music. I cry, sometimes for no reason but often compose myself in a few minutes. I sing love songs when I'm sad, and rock out when I clean. I'm complex and quiet, a tough combination, but my heart is full of love and care, just waiting for someone who'll care to listen to it's soft beating.


I'm a woman. I happen to do super things. And so, I'm a superwoman. I'm proud. I'm exhausted, but I'm so proud of me it rings vibrantly with energy enough to keep me going. That's more than a lot of women, super or otherwise, can say. And for now, it's more than enough.  

Musing: Love Starts...

So I'm a Youtube junkie. When I'm tired of movies, tv, reality shows and the things people are supposed to do, written out and planned, I find Youtube. Literally, trillions of things you can find on there from ice melting, to conspiracy theories involving goats and our world leaders' fetishes for them.I wouldn't recommend the latter; sh*t's creepy.

In any case I happened upon this beautiful video while looking for some Alicia Keys tunes. And...I don't know if there are words for how it makes me feel. It's not going to stop me from trying though.

If I'd have watched that video a year ago, hell, even a week ago, I would've been just awash with envy and bitterness. I'd think 'What's she got that I don't got?' while silently picking apart all the things I feel are wrong with me in reference to her; my hair isn't curly like that, I'm not thin enough, my skin isn't clear enough, all the things that I feel are wrong with me, would've made me instantly dislike this person who I didn't even know. I'd roll my eyes and scoff while sinking deeper into this "woe is me" rut that would take a few days to get out of.

But now I just think that it's the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It makes me feel light inside, hopeful. It's not just the story of these two people who, given all the odds in the world, probably shouldn't have found each other, but did. It's not just the way she hugs him as if he's the dream she's never trying to wake from, or the gentle and tender way he pets her hair and rocks her. It's their faces. The joy. The happiness. The disbelief that this feeling washing over them is actual real, actually happening. The tears of relief. That moment is everything and confirmed to me that something in me had changed.

Dreamers like me are the ones who try to deny that tender spot in their heart; it's hard because that tender spot  makes up a majority of the whole muscle. We try to hide behind our cynicism, and in my case self-loathing, to put up the front that we don't get hurt by little slights and aren't taunted by little insecurities. We're the dreamers who deny their dreams when the realities of the world pound at our imagination's doors, letting us know that it's not real; that world of love and joy and infinite happiness isn't real.

And reality is right. Infinite happiness is a myth; nobody is happy all of the time. That couple there, Laith and Christina, can love each other entirely and still annoy the sh*t out of each other, and fight over petty things like an empty Lucky Charms box. I imagine they'd have to work at their relationship just like everyone else does. Everything you do that you find meaning in is worth working at, perfecting, even when other people say you've reached the mountaintop, it's you looking up and realizing there's further you can go; it's also realizing when to take a step back and admire how far you've come.

While watching this video, that's where I was - at that point looking at how far I've come. Bitterness to acceptance. Loathing to love. Look how far I've come from that girl so afraid to use her voice, so afraid to say the wrong thing, fearing being misunderstood. I've come to the point where I don't care about being understood necessarily, as I care more about being felt, heard, respected, and appreciated by others and by myself.

I'm feeling whimsical and disjointed so I'll try to wrap my mosaic thoughts into something intelligible. Once upon a time, I'd given up on dreams and faith and love. I thought that those things didn't exist in this hard, artificial world where everyone is made up and sucked in and cynical. And then I saw this video of these two people who fell in love and was struck with the feeling that I was wrong about it all. Because I disliked myself for so long I couldn't see the beauty and the love that was in me in order to see the beauty and the love that is pulsing from the world. Because I didn't truly love and accept myself I couldn't love and accept anything else. But now I do.


To Laith and Christina; whether you guys are still together or far apart, in the relationship sense not the distance sense, I want you to know that you've inspired me. Much love <3

A Moment of Inspiration

It's kind of funny the things that inspire you. Like this guy Brian Gaynor.

Brian Gaynor has not only a passion for dance, but scoliosis as well. I have scoliosis. Or I did, until around 2000 when I had double titanium rods implemented. To see what he's able to do, even with his limited range of motion inspires me in a way I haven't been in a long time.

Here I am, sulking about school and jobs and all these other things that are constantly bombarding me and trying to pull me down, and there's this dude here. This dude here doesn't let his bodily limitations stop him from doing what he loves; he dances because it's what he wants to do and what brings him joy. Regardless of if he's the best at it although dude is superb at that robot or if it makes him money, he does it and does it with abandon and acceptance.

What I feel when watching him dance is...everything. Everything. If he can do that, then I can do all these things in my life that seem impossible. All it takes is that leap of faith and determination.