Excerpts of May I
Xavier is definitely beginning to self-regulate. Last night he announced that he was ready to "gO bed!" and instructed me to hold him. I told him that I was was busy putting my sisters baby to sleep and he would be next. Xavier thought about this for a moment and then said, "K, I wont cry." He looked so innocent and sweet when he said it, I kinda felt bad. So I gave him a kissy as he calls it and tucked him in. I was very proud of him for recognizing that he was tired and needed to sleep, and that it wasn't worth fighting sleep to stay in the comfort of my bed.
I got played.
I can not believe the day (and night!) I just had... I can not believe the day (and night?) I am about to have...
6:48pm, UPDATE: There really isn't a way around it, all the self-analysis and introspection in the world can't save me now. I got played, and the worst part is- I guess I played myself. I didn't listen to my instinct, I didn't follow my intuition... Hell I'm lying. No real red flags did go up. Or maybe they did, and I ignored them... Either way, what I predicted to him would happen, happened, and I feel stupider than I can remember feeling in a very very long time. *mental reminder, of why I dont really go for jocks*
I've had a nice little three hour nap now, and chance to calm down. But I feel as unpretty, embarrassed and dissapointed as I did when I got home from the store.. My ego and my pride have suffered two huge ass blows. I let this wannabe gentleman explore the ocean,sun,moon and stars with his The only good things I am feeling are poetic and prosodic. Unfortunately, as badly as I need to write, the words that are coming are hurting words- and I don't feel like hurting right now. It has been a hell of a weekend- it can't go unmentioned. But my accounts of my weekend exploits would be better served to be written later, when I am again sufficiently worked up enough to wallow in self pity and whine. Until then- the charade that is my life continues
Why Do I Write'
I began this online journal in 2001- and it was a fantastic experiment then, in those first few months when I neglected the journal that was my first love. It didn't go completely ignored, but it slipped from the shortlist of my highest priorities. But every day for the past week I have written- really written- like I haven't done in ages. For what has amounted to countless hours in the past seven days, I have deposited fresh and vibrant info, and produced a body of prose as poignant as any I have ever written.
My first online journal was not unlike Poe's letter, a secret hidden so well because it was in plain view. My family, my friends, my enemies alike, they would never think to look online to read my most intimate thoughts. My drawers, under my mattress, hidden cabinets and- oh my goodness! forbid, the open invitation for tampering of anything under lock and key- those hiding places were no good. But online, online was a safe haven. My online journal was a refuge. As the web began to no longer afford the privacy it once did, I learned to edit it more carefully.. I had vowed to myself that I would never mention that certain name's, I would never exemplify or spell out the rap(e) incident(s), I would never discuss what August 10th is the real anniversary of. There is much I can discuss openly in this medium as plain view, but there is much I can never touch, and in some odd psychological self-censorship, I realized that the issues I wasn't willing to address publicly- I wasn't addressing at all. But in the past week I wrote with wanton disregard for into whose hands my confessions might fall; I wrote with wreckless abandon and it was orgasmic. And today I say, to hell with hiding.
The weekend I had the chance to use a computer equipped with RoadRunner cable modem installed. (And yes, I am straight BLAZIN' through the internet. 30second song downloads, ZERO wait time on webpages loading, I was SO not ready. I also gave my niece(s) permission to work on my computer while I am gone. (It's not like I don't know they've been using it anyway, but at least we can all be upfront about this thing- finally.) Though they are not the most computer savvy folks in the world, they know how to run a search, how to surf the internet and stuff. And I, I will not be clearing out my cache before I leave for school each morning, I will not be erasing my bookmarks or removing every instance of my name from my sites. However, my nieces are innocent, sweet little girls they do not have these kind of motives. Perhaps, they did stumble across it. I know they would of definitely asked me questions prolly more pertaining to how-to' make a webpage etc. Although this is the first time I make that admission, I will still continue our mutual code of silence. I'm not going to ask them if they see it, and I'm not going to pretend it is some great mystery either.
This site is public record, and it will stay that way. It began as an exercise in honesty and boldness, and it has grown into one of honesty tempered with tact, a much more appropriate combination. So if you are sitting at MY computer desk right now reading this, under the disguise of checking your email or downloading music, I admonish you- dear niece,dear sister, dear auntie- the good stuff is on my bookshelf. My newest journal has neither lock nor key, and is not hidden. In fact, there it is, on the second shelf above my desk and hutch. It has a multi-colored flower on its cover, it has a loose binding, and it is filled with expensive and many-colored inks. Look over your right shoulder, yes there, above my "Tampax Tour" mug and leaning against the bottle of wine that B. gave me on my 21st birthday and that I will never drink- that's the good suff. That's the stuff exposÚs are made of. That's the stuff I'd rather cherrish. That's the stuff that will definitely have my pissy drunk. I'd ask you to do me the favor of leaving both this site AND that journal unread, but don't be embarrassed if you can't resist; I suspect I wouldn't be able to deny myself either of those temptations. But be warned, you will likely not like what follows here OR there.
In these two/three years in which I have not allowed the daily indulgence of time alone with my writing, I missed the sound of my unspoken voice, I missed the way ink and pen do not permit rewrites or edits, I love the way I always resisted the temptation to use that corny-awful bubbly circly bouncy girlie high-school crap with hearts and circles.
Three years ago I put down my pen in a way that I can't help but to regret. A week ago it was poised again between my trembling knuckles and I picked up where I left off. So thank you aforementioned women for the inspiration (and in the case of my professor, the instruction!) to resume a passion I hadn't realized I missed so much. This site and my "real" journal can coexist, they have, but I need to reset the offset balance. I was born to write. And you know, if my careers as a physician, professional scuba diver,Oprah's personal assistant/friend, an actors wife and/or rapper/hip hop singer don't take off, I could always publish my private diaries and make a killing. In the interim, I'll just stick to doing what comes naturally: even as I type these words I feel a compulsion to go and transcribe every word of the e-x-q-u-s-i-t-e 17 min/18 sec conversation I just shared with [him]- before one word of it dares slip from my memory. I cant say this journal will last forever...but I will write and write as my heart tells me to. It feels good to be writing again, it feels good.