after much contemplation, i’ve realized:

i’m everything i could ever want in a mate. & i’m not mad at that. not one bit.

i’ll be marrying myselves sometime between my 30th birthday & the day i die. invitations pending, i suppose.

full moon gratitude.

free concert tickets
mediterranean food
cuties who give great hugs
quality couch time w/ good friends
yuengling lager
old friends
new friends
the healing properties of tears
revolutionary love
free laundry
purple nail polish
gold nail polish
sugar scrub
anti-histamines
& the music of fertile ground.

dulled my senses & blurried my sight.

& i used to love HIM . . . meaning god. as a man. because i was raised christian, and therefore any idea of a woman in the bible (from what i was taught in 2 years of christian day school) was never really positive. the first woman mentioned in the bible is eve. and eve instituted the downfall of mankind by eating the apple, etc. i was never taught, in my schooling (or my home discussions, or in church) about positive women in the bible, aside from the virgin mary — who was really just a vehicle for the christ. she was insignificant. she did not matter. and, it was implicit that she did not matter. i’m sure that in some situations, it was plainly stated that since she didn’t ’save anyone’ that she wasn’t of any import. and mary magdalene was a whore — she couldn’t have possibly been an actual apostle or jesus’ wife. and so on, and so on.

so, being the me i was at 14-18, i had to think twice about all of that. every time i went to church and was told that i should feel the presence of god the father, i would feel numb. i would feel like i wasn’t getting everything i should have from that spirit. if it makes any sense at all to anyone besides me: i felt like i was getting an abridged version of god. like there was more to the whole experience, something people weren’t talking about or even thinking of in their own ruminations on the creator.

so, i strayed from that path i’d been told to follow. i went to a quaker school, participated in a guided meditation group (complete w/ chakra cleansing!) led by a former nun who worked as a teacher at my school, and read about religions that were not anything like christianity. i wasn’t particularly moved, but definitely intrigued. and i noted that i only felt connected to any higher power when singing or surrounded by music — secular or religious. i was concerned. because of the teachings i’d had as a little kid, i thought something was wrong with me. that something was broken. that god could not reach me because i was not right or pure.

per anyone i’d ask, or any research i’d done (by reviewing sermons) the alternative to feeling the way i did was throwing myself fully into a faith practice that never felt 100% right. that didn’t make sense to me, either. so, i drifted.

and then i read it: i found god in myself/ & i loved her/ i loved her fiercely

it meant everything all of a sudden. it meant freedom. it meant i needed to learn about oshun, i needed to research ishtar, and that maybe lilith wasn’t just the name of some music fair.

& then i learned that god isn’t male or female, necessarily. something a christian minister once told me was that the god of your own understanding is the god you serve. purely. truthfully. honestly.

& through orisha worship, through ancestor reverence, through living my life in a way that makes me feel full and right?

i saw the divine. she, the divine feminine. he, the father. the holy spirit. i touched it. it filled me up. i saw the balance, i saw both sides.

(this is likely going to be fleshed out later, to tie back into the title. but gimme some time, my laptop ain’t shit and i’m moving!)

full moon gratitude.

new beginnings
silence
willful isolation
sundresses
florida water
abundant change
random phonecalls
cumin
onion powder
babies
chosen family
pink dresses
libraries
vinegar
bloggity goodness
raspberry sorbet
cheap wine
pink eye shadow

continually, i sit at the seat of bliss.

self love. self preservation.

there is no way on earth i’ll ever go back to letting someone else tell me how to love myself.

there are examples that we give one another. how to love strong. how to love from within first, so that the outside parts match the inside. so that i may tell new people in my life precisely how i receive and give love. it’s important. it’s valuable. it’s not a trifle. i think that it’s apparent to most of us, what happens when we aren’t protecting/ preserving/ healing/ caring for ourselves. it’s ridiculous to me, at this point in my life, to act like i don’t. when i neglect myself, i become reckless. that is not healthy. recklessness can mean anything for anyone, but i presume it’s usually characterized by destructive behaviors & an unwillingness to slow the fuck down. but i can only speculate on what it’s like for anyone but myself.
but like i said, other folks can’t tell me how.
cuz this is my shit.
& in that space of loving oneself, there is that awakening of the fiercest instinct to protect oneself. to be honest with yourself because there’s no space or time for lies & bullshit, no willingness to allow farces to be the order of the day. we remove the mask. we, little by little, get back to our inner children & allow them to kind of run the show. not the inner child who couldn’t drive or cook a meal. but the inner child who used to snap out if mommy passed us to the wrong person. that person is the one who, through lots of anti self-love programming (that’s what i call it), learned to hide. polite & respectful are not the same. politeness smacks of fakeness. respectfulness implies an allegiance to one’s whole & full self. (for example: no apologies. respectfully disagreeing & agreeing to do so without name calling, taunting, or other shenanigans.)
preserving your core. looking out for your star motherfucking player, like katt williams said. making sure you have yourself to get around with, like the lady in green. acts of self love are likely to keep you from needing to be rescued.
it’s a thought. you don’t have to believe it yourself. but i know i do. nothing feels quite like me, to me.

before you go getting all tight . . .

know this:

my home internet service has been canceled due to lack of funds.

my laptop is sometimey. you remember having that ol janky wall-unit phone in your house (mine was in the kitchen) that would shut off if you moved too far in any direction? well, that’s what goes on with my laptop. the cord just isn’t stable. so, combine my need for internet with my laptop’s apparent jankiness and you have a bit of a mess. oh, well.

i’m not really in a writing mood. i’m in a doing mood. so i’ve been doing stuff. i will update this blog in a real way sooner or later.

in the meantime, i’m workin on some special projects and will be back from my summer blog vacation soon.

full moon gratitude.

generous friends
breathtaking sunsets
fresh brewed iced tea
amazing pancakes
pennsylvania farm country
the right shade of pink nail polish
right-on-timeness
tricks of the trade
outlet stores
my own craftiness
my boundaries
remembering my own magic

dear potential future boocakes:

listen. i . . . i know i probably talk too fucking much. and i know that you might think i’m weird.  but i know you like me. because i just happen to know these things. so, if you wanna bake me cookies that’s fine. we have to work on some sort of dairy, egg, and soy-free kind (because that’s really the cookie i need in my life) and if you dare make me oatmeal cookies they’d ought to have craisins in them cuz raisins are just wrong. um. yeah. and i’ll make you iced tea, ginger limeade, and whatever else you want (within reason).  because i’m a doting kinda gal. i always felt like the gold star sticker was more important than getting the 100 on the spelling test, ya know?  let me be the good marshmallow in your hot chocolate; the garnish.  i’m that flourish in your signature that makes it slightly illegible but mostly fabulous. 

& also, potential future boocakes, you should really know that i’m not a huge fan of traditionally represented concept of  monogamy right  now. it feels confining, it feels like a social construct more than it does anything natural to me as a human being. i don’t much like the idea of being bound to one person indefinitely (or quote-unquote forever, the way that the marrieds tend to be).  so, if we start kicking it, understand that it’s not about any sort of loose-in-the-booty-ness on my part.  & i’m not out here doing any ho shit, either. i simply desire to deal with folk who understand where i am in this whole growing up thing. i feel very strongly that my consideration of polyamory is both a great thing for me and a potentially disastrous for you and any other potential future boocakes, depending on the kind of relationship you wish to have with me. we’ll take it one day at a time, though.  we’ll figure it out.

potential future boocakes, i know you are capable of being a great lover (or activity partner or cuddlejawn or whatever we make out of this thang).  i’d very much like the chance to explore that with you.  so, please remember that i am open. it would honor me so much for you to remain open, as well, to what’s out there.

(and by that, i mean willing to have rather serious makeout sessions and play scrabble with me while drinking lindeman’s lambic framboise, peche, kriek, cassis, or pomme)

full moon gratitude.

family
sunshine
hoodies
limeade
pink nail polish
herstories
old laughs
new jokes
rose soap
good stockings
friends
cat naps
foremothers
cheap buys
babies

indulgence.

lately, i feel like giving into my inner child as much as possible.  she wants to dress up, she wants to play with new kids, she wants to dance and sing and eat whatever she wants to. she wants cake at 3 in the morning. she wants fun, and music, and a trail of butterflies to follow her everywhere she goes.

and dammit, i am determined to make it happen for her. she deserves it. i owe it to her.  she deserves to live without fear, she deserves to live without being bullied, without feeling like she isn’t free to be herself.  

i don’t think anybody ever told me that it’s okay to acknowledge my inner child.  i don’t think anyone ever said to me, “sparkle, the inner child is the purest version of you,” so that i’d embrace her. my inner little girl is attention-starved, a bit expression-deprived, and still trying to make sense of the chaos that one day swallowed her up.  i suppose that reaching that far into my personal herstory is the one thing missing from my process. i know what damaged me three years ago, six months ago, two days ago. but the first break is foreign to me.  

the little girl wants to delve. she wants to hold this grown woman’s hand and take that walk down that slope, through that valley, around that bend and follow that creek to the source. the pool of water where i swam before entering this realm will hold everything. the reflections, the things i cast off in an attempt to forget me.

i must indulge her, i must indulge me. for the sake of my own journey.

fronting: an undoing.

peeling off, peeling out, laying the dumb shit to the side.
seeing myself, wholly, in bright light
not allowing myself to be lost in the crevices between what he says, what she says
slipping through cracks that seem more like caverns
i am no longer willing to be held hostage by image or ego, whether mine or someone else’s
coming undone has never been so dope, and i love how it feels
i have started to embrace la loba within.
and for the first time, in a long time, i don’t feel the overwhelming urge to tattoo or pierce, to cut my hair or get my eyebrows waxed.
i’m fine how i am, where i am
because i’m meant to just do what i do
there’s nothing to stop me
no one to slow me down

the only one in the way of this is me. and i’ve decided to move on over.

knowledge of self: a stream of consciousness.

understand me when i say i’ve had a breakthrough. about who i am, about where i am, about where i’m headed, and who i’m stepping into being.  i don’t worry so much anymore, because i’ve never been this certain. i’ve never been this self-possessed.  i’ve never, in my life, been more aware of one simple fact: i’m the truth. i am the best thing that ever happened to me.  i have figured it all out: i am equipped with every tool i need to get to the next place, to do the next thing, to take the best care of myself and all of my needs.  when i really listen to myself and trust my own intuition, i am unstoppable.

i am bigger, better, stronger, and flyer than anyone’s imagination — my own included.  i will not be stopped by anyone else’s fear or jealousy of me.

i am a walking miracle. my very existence on this earth is the product of praying grandmothers & my own resilience.  i will not lose. ever.

i am the first born daughter.

the mark i make on this earth will be indelible.

moving forward with thanks.

i know that i am in a position of privilege. i have a job that i can choose to quit in order to pursue my dreams; i have the time to dedicate my energy to those dreams & map out a way to make them happen. i am privileged, even by comparison to my mother and many of my peers. even when i’m so flat broke that all i can do is pray that i can stay afloat until payday, i am still privileged & living a blessed life. because people sacrificed, people died, people worked so that i wouldn’t have to put myself through more shit to earn less.

i am thankful. i can’t articulate it all. i don’t even have full knowledge of all of the things that add up to my being here, afloat, & capable. there are ancestors, there are strangers, there are secret acts of support by people who know me . . . in short, my life is a blessing. i’m grateful. i know for a fact that i could be a lot worse off (that’s all relative to my own life experiences), but i’m not! i’m here. i’m blessed.

i give thanks for so much, so often. anyone who reads this blog or talks to me with any regularity knows that giving thanks is just the norm for me. even in my blind rage or worry, i seem to find at least one thing (big or small) to be thankful for. so, every thanksgiving when people give their lists of what they are thankful for, i have to ask: what is it about all this food & family drama that pushes you to a point where you feel comfortable giving thanks? is there not something to be thankful for every day? or, are you so caught up in the day-to-day bullshit that is your life that a pause is necessary in order for you to examine gratitude?

whatever it is, i want folks to remember that each day we are here we can give thanks, and should give thanks. venerate your ancestors, if you’d like. hug your mom every chance you get. reminisce with siblings, cousins, aunts & uncles. call your best friend & say “you’re an asshole sometimes, but i’m SO glad you’re my friend.” do something. be thankful, don’t just say you are.

the celebration of thanksgiving is actually based on a celebration by early colonizers who celebrated the slaughter of pequot men, women & children in what’s now called new england. all this talk of popcorn and cranberries and fun and love is a crock of bullshit. that doesn’t mean that we can’t be thankful. that means that we need to share truth with one another and inform honestly what the roots of thanksgiving are. we need to move past the lies & bullshit, the misinformation & passing on of untruths. (i strongly recommend that, if you don’t already know, you click the links i just put up.) who wants to live a lie? haven’t you, if you had the santa thing, ever wished that your folks had just told the truth from the beginning? lying to kids because they’re kids isn’t any different than lying to adults. it’s still stupid and a waste of time. yes, it’s a good idea to find a way to express truth in ways that meet someone on their comprehension level. but, be for real: simplifying the truth and flat out lying with glittery distractions are not the same thing.

so, be thankful. say yes to gratitude. appreciate the beauty & purity of the good things bestowed upon you, the things you’ve drawn to yourself. growing toward all of that beauty & wonder does open you up to the polar opposite. no, baby, you cannot escape the potential of hurt, pain, anguish and ugliness. it’s the balance of the universe.

i choose it willingly, thankfully, becoming more grateful with each step.

the case for cuddlejawns.

(before we begin: a cuddlejawn is just what it sounds like. a jawn with whom you cuddle. i’m from philly. sue me.)

1) cuddling is good for the environment!
if you’re cuddling (fully clothed, nude, partially clothed, socks only) with another grown person, chances are that a considerable amount of body heat will be generated. you and your cuddlejawn will save money on energy bills! radiator on the fritz? call your cuddlejawn. afraid of your gas bill? holla at your girl/ boy. don’t feel like playing with that space heater? pick up the phone! get a blanket, and you just might set the night on fire! rawr.

2) cuddling is good for your self-esteem.
because, you see, that 10 lbs you’re still tryna shake won’t have to come off. that extra body on your body needs cushioning! knowing that you’re divine just the way you are will do wonders for you, dear heart. it gives your cuddlejawn an even stronger reason to keep coming back for more of your good old boolovin!

3) you get to show off your extensive knowledge of foods/ beverages.
everyone knows that there’s nothing better than a good plate of tasty morsels or a glass of something fly AND arms that warmly await you. and if the mutually agreed-upon cuddlejawn arrangement is going well i believe that food items will keep things going along swimmingly. besides, who the hell wants to be the trifling motherfucker who invites people over and never feeds or attempts to hydrate them? especially a cuddlejawn? show your gratitude by making sure there are yummy and new snacks.

4) this arrangement may be one of the healthiest relationships you ever have.
so many of us go into situations with others hoping against hope that s/he doesn’t turn out to be crazy/ clingy/ unreasonable/ looking for a husband/ looking for a wife/ looking for a parental figure . . . without making sure that everyone’s pretty much on the same page from the onset. so, with your cuddle jawn arrangement being essentially about cuddling and not sexual intercourse (not at first. where it goes next is your business.), i daresay it’s impossible to get caught up in a snare of emotional bullshit. sex might complicate things for some of us, while for others it brings clarity. your job as a cuddlejawn is to be precisely what your cuddlejawn needs. that means everyone gets their needs met within the parameters of the arrangement. no hurt feelings. who doesn’t want to be held without the pressure of a bunch of shit that has little to nothing to do with them? think on it.

5) boolovin might save us from ourselves.
you ever encounter a motherfucker who quite clearly needs a hug and/ or some kind words? don’t you ever think that they should get that hug? those kind words? something to help them feel less miserable and stabby? i bet if they had a cuddlejawn they’d be at least tolerable. yupper. watch, y’all, and see! the boolovin might make you think twice about slappin the fuck out of your coworker. it may make you more alert during the work day. i mean, there are studies done on infants who are touched lovingly/ receive infant massage that suggest that these kids grow up smarter than those who are touched only when it’s necessary (or whatever the control is). i say go for it. who doesn’t wanna be loved upon more often?

and, i’d also like to suggest that cuddling may lead to some very rewarding, fulfilling adult interactions. this is the foreplay of life.
go find you a cuddlejawn!

this post has been brought to you by buckwild apiaries, inc., purveyors of honey love and boolovin.

grow up pretty. get a good man.

do something about that skin
try to find a style that makes your hair grow long and pretty
don’t get seconds on that, you know you need to lose weight
sit with your legs closed, especially in skirts and dresses
learn how to walk in high heels
there are nice boys at church
if you never stop sucking your thumb how are you ever gonna smile pretty?
don’t be so aggressive
you talk too loud
why are you always talking?
don’t correct people, it makes them feel inferior
you should wear more dresses
you need a girdle
we aren’t the kind of family that advocates that; we’re christians
why didn’t you just finish college?
you’re too smart to be anywhere except school
okay, when are you gonna have babies?
why are you living there?
what’s that food you’re eating?
when are you going back to school?
you don’t live here, you can’t do that
you can’t afford that, can you?
why would you spend $12 on breakfast? you too good for the cart or mcdonald’s?
i didn’t know you spoke spanish, you just be spittin that shit like [unintelligible]
can you tell me where to find a poetry reading? why not?
why don’t you smile more?
girls don’t dance with girls around here, no matter what
no, i know what you’re trying to do
my mom said you’re not as cute as you think you are
do you sing? why don’t you sing something?
why do you always have to be right?
why don’t you fight back?
why don’t you have a man?
are you gay?
_____ is weird; you probably know him/ her.
turn the music down, nobody wants to hear that foreign shit.
who ever told you that you can have whatever you want just because you want it?
do you and your sisters really all have the same father?
why are you so preachy?
you can make money being a doula/ midwife/ crafter?
you’re high maintenance
you’re weird
you’re spoiled
you must come from money w/ an attitude like that, cuz if you don’t . . .
i don’t know where you get these airs from
why do you switch so hard when you walk?
you know you want this dick, girl
i’ma pray that god changes your mind about that
happy birthday (via text, when i call you all the time)
you sure you gonna wear that?
you always got some weird — no, i’m sorry, different — shit on
you talk in circles. all women do, actually
you use your feelings to navigate the world; that’s illogical
don’t do that, that’s not what nice girls do
what do you mean you don’t believe in jesus?
you gave up on moving to new york, didn’t you?
get outta here w/ that boho shit
you don’t know a good thing when you see it
what made you think you could fuck him too?
i mean, you could be my girl if you . . .
oh, no, we’re not exclusive . . . where’d you get that from?
you’re trippin, this could never happen
why aren’t you writing?
what are you writing about?
stop writing about me
you’re phony
you’ll never have a man
can’t you just be normal?
when can we expect payment?
you aren’t any different from anyone else, get that idea out of your head right now

this post is the result of attempting to empty my head of any and everything that’s ever stuck to me and made me feel like i’m not a divinely blessed being. may every last bit of it be removed from my mind and set free on the wind, never to return to me.