Pages

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Beautiful Inside and Out

I wrote the following for a contest.  I thought the contest called for a 700 word essay.  Then I went to submit it and found I'd totally read the rules wrong and the limit was for 500 characters.  I wrongly interpreted this to mean 500 characters with spaces, but no.  Essentially I wrote an essay when they wanted a couple "tweets."  Well, whatever.  At least I got this nice essay out of it.  The subject is "A time when you felt beautiful inside and out."

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Stacks of Caps

I heard a deliciously lewd line once that went, "He's so hot, I'd wear him like a scrunchy."

I turned that line on its head in conversation with Hadj once while commenting on all the ladies strutting about sexy in the newly warm air.  I said, "She's so hot, I wanna wear her like a hat" in this fulsome, growly Southern woman accent into which I sometimes spontaneously seep.

All naughtiness aside... one of the things I have "a thing" about is hats.  Literally speaking, I look good in hats.  As you probably guessed I'm not speaking quite literally here.  All my life I've felt split in two.  There's the external me and the internal me.  I've come close, a time or two, to feeling the two were pretty well merged, but there was always the exception, the company face I'd put on at work everyday.  I'm prone, it seems, to taking on too much in my life in terms of personal expression.  Trying on too many hats in a given time period.  Honestly, I admire those who choose a good hat and stick with it until it has truly been worn out.  I saw a piece of artwork one time that had the line,
"I laughed when I realized how many years it took to discover who I am...by first zealously exploring...who I am not."  

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

See Ya in a Bit!

I just queued up posts at 1,001 Son-Days for the next six days.  There's a triple layer "Pink Lady" cake frosted and pretty in the frigidaire.  There is a set of home-made "fuzzy cupcakes" wrapped and adorned by the front door.  We are all ready in the house for Aunty Ana's visit from Chicago.  Ana is my sister from another mister and she gives the best hugs.  She's the one who taught me not to fear baking and to always respect Martha.

I'm not really going to say much more about that except, go on over to 1,001 Son-Days and see some slobber covered horns! A few days from now there'll be a small written piece on how the name Salamander came to be, and I don't think I've ever talked about that here.

Finally, what do you think about the fuzzy cupcakes idea? I would post a picture, but I forgot to take one before I wrapped them, so it'll have to wait.  They're for her review mirror, in the fuzzy dice sense of things.  She loves cupcakes and knitting, so I thought they'd be a whimsical fun thing for her.  I also thought they wouldn't take much time, but that was four months ago.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Vision Post

She is women laughing, spilling wine, chopping onions
licking licorice, looking backwards savoring salt, satisfied, she is
mother pulling patience from the air, bedraggled hair, she is
woman stacking shocks of corn, woman making love in dreadlocks
sweeping floors sweating summer heat
What does a goddess look like?
She looks like you, She looks like me
She looks like us in sacred conversation.
Yvonne Pearson



Excerpted from a poem called "What Does a Goddess Look Like?" which appears in the 2010-11 We'Moon date book.

This is a calling.  This is me, calling out.  I know my women, sisters, elders are out there; I'm asking.  Please, please find me.  Please, please lead me to you.  The laughing, wine spilling, onion chopping women help me stay sane in the world.  I have a good life, but you women, I don't yet know where you are, you will make it so much better.

Friday, May 6, 2011

You Can Get This Snippet

This week I realized that my need to be writing had finally overcome my laziness in the early morning hours.  I felt a familiar feeling, chagrin, when I thought about how typical it is of me to have finally committed to one child (writing) when I had just had another (you, Salamander).  I can be funny that way; putting too much on my plate just to prove I can do it.  And so, this tumble-log, will include writing at times, or me talking about it.  I’m trying to pack in as many truths as possible, my darling. 
Now, as the house is dark in all but the craft room/office, and my tea is hot beside me, I hear you cooing and burbling in  your room across the hall.  You’re an hour early, I think, with something that feels like panic swaying in my belly.  Please don’t be awake just yet.  I so urgently want to feed this other child right now.