New York City Gives 0 F's

Hey everyone!

To read my latest blog post: "25 Things I Learned About New York", click on the link below! :)

25 Things I Learned About New York

I'm Not Sure What I Want Anymore: In Regards to Dating (Online and in the Real World)

Hey y'all!

First of all, thanks to all of my continuous followers! I know I haven't made a post in forever and I apologize for that. But I appreciate your patience and your interest in my work.

Tonight's post is me going to be gabbing on about my love life. (or the lack thereof. Whatever.)

So, I've made a couple of posts about this already, but here's another one.

The other day, I happened to meet someone online. Well, actually, on an app. The Whisper app to be exact.

Now, I used to be very apprehensive about meeting anyone online. Let's face it, I thought it was embarrassing. It's certainly nontraditional and not necessarily an accepted method for meeting new people for everyone. But, to say the least, I've LITERALLY tried almost every online dating website that there is.

Plenty of Fish (which I HIGHLY do NOT recommend as I consider it the "projects" of the dating world. I have told this to numerous friends. Please excuse my insulting use of a microaggression, but it really is the WORST of all the dating websites. I met some serious perverts and assholes on this one.)

eVow.com (by the creators of POF. It's supposed to be more suited towards those rare folk who actually WANT romantic, committed, long-term relationships, but it's JUST as bad as POF if not worse! I will tell you about the "JackHammer" story later, for those of you who don't already know it!)

Match.com

eHarmony (which is A LOT different than it used to be. Back in the day when the website was first around, membership required you to take an entire day's worth of personality quizzes that determined your perfect match, which in reality is just a bunch of BS! I actually wasted hours of my life taking these quizzes and after all of my time spent, it said I was un-matchable! How ridiculous! Apparently I couldn't fit into any of their "categories". So be it! I'm happier I didn't! But now, the website doesn't even require you to do any of that, so there's no point to it.)

Zoosk

Black People Meet (um.  .  . whatever floats your boat, right?)

Christian Mingle

OkCupid  (which I would recommend as the BEST free online dating place, if I didn't meet so many weirdos, jerks, and freaks on it. *rolling my eyes and SMH*)

Heck, I've even tried several hotlines and recently Tinder. (which is fun, albeit not the best place to meet someone serious. More oriented towards hook-ups)

Luckily, I have NOT been desperate enough to try Craigslist just yet. (and hopefully I never will, but my cousins and I ARE working on a parody of it called CraigsLust. I'll leave info about it sooner or later)

But, to get to the point, I would NOT be sharing all of this info with you and putting myself at risk for criticism and judgement if it were NOT to share my experiences with you and prevent you from making the many dating mistakes that I have. And I'm telling you, though there are a FEW lucky ones who DO happen to meet their "soulmates" through these mediums, if I were you, I would STAY AWAY from them altogether, just to be safe. If you want to meet someone, do it the old fashioned way, in public, at the coffee shop, in class, at the gym, at church, in a club, etc. Because I have had NOTHING but BAD EXPERIENCES with ALL of the online dating sites listed above.

With that being said, I was NOT looking to meet anyone the other day. Not at all. But it's funny how life just seems to work that way. You always get what you're looking for when you STOP searching for it. But perhaps this wasn't really what I was looking for.  .  .


like, .  .  . at ALL.

So here's what happened:

A few months back, right after my birthday, I made an investment in my first ever Smartphone. Before, I had REFUSED to purchase one because I was truly content with my regular mobile device that didn't have all of the sophisticated and fancy features that a Smartphone does. But, I quickly had to reevaluate my thinking when my normal "dumb" phone started acting up and shutting off whenever it felt like it. So, I had no choice but to get a new phone, and I decided to join the program and the current times by making the switch over to a Samsung Galaxy Express. Convenient because I can still have the AT&T GoPhone plan with it but also have the luxury of an Android. (no, I am NOT being paid to promote AT&T or Samsung in anyway, thank you very much)

Well, I started liking it a lot and taking advantage of all of the new features I was foreign to, and with the suggestions of a few of my friends, I downloaded several useful and fun apps. One of those being Whisper.

That being said, let me tell you right away, the Whisper app is ADDICTIVE! In case you don't already have it or know what it is, it's a place for local members to post anonymous confessions with cool pictures behind them, and anyone can "heart", comment, or reply personally to these confessions. So I thought it was REALLY creative and fun!

Well, .  .  . I got used to using it and happened to post a confession that got 99 hearts. My most EVER!

Because I'm not ashamed of my post or afraid to share my confession with the world (which, in fact, I'm actually proud of), here it is:

Isn't it cute and funny! ;)  At least I thought so, and apparently 99 other people did as well.

And because I'm not a copycat and I LOVE to give credit where it's due, I actually thought this up after watching this YouTube vid, which is HILARIOUS, so check it out if you have the chance: 

^^^This installment of Epic Rap Battles of History featuring Key and Peele is HILARIOUS!

Okay, to get back to the point of this blog post, I made that confession to be funny and honest, and I didn't think I'd end up meeting someone through it. But. I. Did.

I met this guy who seemed EXTREMELY sweet. We seemed to get along REALLY well. We ended up having a long, detailed convo that connected us at the hip and we learned that we had a TON in common. It was kinda creepy, actually. 

Before we know it, we start sending each other pics. And he starts calling me his babe. And he calls me beautiful, several times. (which I have a HUGE weak spot for because of previous affairs I'll mention later) And we kind of end up being a thing. 

So, he's here in NY. And guess what? I'm HERE IN NY AS WELL! (which I will blog about VERY soon, so be on the look out for that as well) And we decide to meet up. 

Let's just say, at first, I was REALLY looking forward to it. This dude seemed too good to be true. And I was excited to meet him. He seemed like a very intelligent, romantic, compassionate, affectionate, and mature person, and I thought meeting him in person would be the best thing ever. 

Well, it was not. 

It wasn't HORRIBLE, per se. We had a REALLY intense make out sesh that was kind of the farthest I've ever went with a guy. And he was a total sweetheart. 

But.  .  . 

I just didn't feel anything. Like, .  .  . ANYTHING. AT ALL. 

:(  *major sad face*

So, I feel like a total bitch for leading him on. I REALLY thought there could be something between us, but I felt like there was NO chemistry AT ALL. And yes, he was kind, and he was sweet, and he was gentle, but IDK what's wrong with me!

I felt NO sparks. I felt NO excitement. I felt NO connection. And I felt BAD for it. 

Maybe it was because we had a little TOO much in common. And I was thinking that in the beginning, how I shouldn't date a guy like him because he's too similar to me, and things wouldn't work out. 

Perhaps I was right. I really don't know. But now, I'm really not sure what I want anymore. 

I've gone on various rants where I express how I really don't mind the single life. And I do feel that way. (ESPECIALLY when I'm dancing dirty @ the club with sexy guys all over me, you know what I mean?!)

But deep down, there will ALWAYS be the part of me that is a hopeless romantic who wishes for so much more. But, will I ever even FIND more?

This guy was nice. He was REALLY into me, and I REALLY appreciated that and it made me want to be with him. But after being with him, I wanted to run away. What gives!?

I'm absolutely NOT afraid of commitment. That's NOT what it was. And I'm NOT afraid of trusting someone. That's NOT what it was either. 

But it seems like every time I meet someone who really likes me, I just DON'T like them. 

And vice versa. 

Just a few weeks ago, I ended up meeting a REALLY cute guy on Tinder. I thought he was SUPER attractive, and he seemed VERY chill and laid back, which I liked a lot. 

He came over and spent the night. (No sex involved. Just kissing and cuddling and sleeping in the same bed.) 

I thought he seemed very patient and interested in me. 

But when I never received another call, text, message, or reply from him at all whatsoever, I learned that I was mistaken. 

How is it that guys have NO problem falling off of the face of the earth!? Like, WTF!?

I REALLY liked this guy, and he disappeared into thin air, not even leaving a note behind for me to understand why. 

And I started blaming myself for it. Like, what could I have POSSIBLY done wrong to push him away?

Did he think I was unattractive? Was it because I gained too much weight? Did I look ugly in real life compared to my profile pictures? Should I have been wearing make-up? Was it my hair style?

Or was it the way I acted? Did I come off too strong?! Did I seem too desperate? Was I TOO affectionate? Was I too obsessive or passionate!? (Come on now, can you even be TOO passionate? Is that even possible?)

Or did I kick him in his sleep? I don't fuckin' know! But all of these irrational thoughts started filling my head and making me feel like a horrible person. 

In Therapy, I discussed this, and my Therapist brought me to the realization that I was completely beating myself up about it. What if the problem wasn't me, but it was him? 

So, I thought about it. What if he was afraid of intimacy? What if he wasn't ready to commit? What if he was intimidated by me? What if he felt inadequate compared to me? (I was working that night, and I was VERY busy, and he saw this. And perhaps he admired it and didn't feel worthy of someone as hardworking as me? IDK, it could be a possible answer.) 

That all made me feel better about myself. But in the end, this guy was still pushed away. And I still don't know the legit reason why. And I really liked him. 

Why does life work this way?! I just don't know anymore. 

But when it comes to relationships, I guess I'm good for now. I'm good without one. Cause they're too confusing, too difficult, and I just can't seem to find chemistry with those who have a deep admiration for me, and those who I have a deep admiration for end up running the other way. So WTF!?

I'm just gonna continue to be happy with whatever life gives me. I'm in New York for crying out loud! On the other damn side of the nation when I wasn't even allowed to go outside as a kid! 

And I'm in good health (I haven't gotten a cold all year long, which is a FIRST for me) and I have sooo many amazing friends who care about me, I have everything I need and I'm in really good spirits, so why NOT be happy? 

As always, Thanks for reading. :)

Myths About Mental Illness

A condensed version of this blog post was published on the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) website. Click here to access it.

So much for weekly posts, .  .  . right!?

Mental illness is so often criminalized and villianized. Just look at the UCSB shooter we had last weekend. The media is already calling him "mentally disturbed" even though there's a much bigger issue at fault here: ingrained misogyny.

     (^^^For more info on misogyny extremism, watch this video above^^^)

But that's not what I'm writing this post about. I'm writing about the myths associated with mental illness.

This past weekend, my father happened to be in town and visited my deranged (and estranged, rhyme intended) mother, and because her and I had a dispute a few weeks ago, it slipped out of my mouth that I have a mental illness and that I'm Bipolar and a sufferer of PTSD as well. I didn't mean to tell my mom, she's ridden with undiagnosed and untreated conditions herself (and she's the reason why I got put into foster care in the first place), and I knew she would blow the news out of proportion, but she made me angry while we talked over the phone because she consistently denied that the years of abuse she put me through ever happened and said that I must be "making them up", "making a false reality." So my shit hit the fan and the secret swept out, and now she has the notion that I'm on medication, which nobody told her! The truth is, I AM ON MEDICATION, because it's very important that someone like myself gets help, stays medicated, and seeks professional therapy and support from others, but these are things my mother will NEVER understand.

Anyways, where I was going with all of this: While my father was in town visiting my mother, she had the nerve to say, "If Sky is taking medication, she's going to end up like the UCSB shooter!"

This is the exact kind of statement I am trying to combat.

See, we constantly frame those who are mentally ill as "mad men" (and women) or monsters, psychopaths, or the most commonly used one of all, as "crazy", when this is not true.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, so I think it’s time to set the records straight! Here are some common myths about mental health and what the truth really is:

1. Having a mental illness/disorder makes you ‘crazy.’

Having a mental illness/disorder does NOT make you “crazy.” What it does make you is vulnerable. Having a mental illness means that you have chemical imbalances in your brain that might alter your thinking, destabilize your moods, or skew your perception of reality to a degree, but that doesn’t make you crazy! It makes you human! And with proper treatment, you can be as sane as anyone!

2. People with mental illness are violent & dangerous.

Within the last few years, we have had an increase in terrorist attacks and mass violence. Whenever these disasters take place, the media is quick to judge the suspects and label them as “mentally disturbed”, which is rather inaccurate. In reality, only 3-5% of violent crimes in the U.S. are committed by persons who suffer from a mental illness (Reference: Iva Cheung, “Sanism and the Language of Mental Illness” 2015)

The unfortunate truth is that individuals with mental illness are MORE likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators. Disorders like Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Bipolar Disorder make sufferers more inclined to inflict self-harm than to harm another person. You have no need to fear a person with a mental illness just because of their diagnosis.

3. People with Bipolar Disorder are moody.

Bipolar Disorder (specifically) does NOT necessarily equate to having intense mood swings.

People so often throw around the term “bipolar” to describe California weather. When they say this, it downplays the seriousness of the condition and creates misinformation about what Bipolar disorder actually is.  They are referring to rapid changes, and Bipolar Disorder doesn’t always work like this for everyone who has it.

What Bipolar Disorder DOES do is cause you to have episodes (or periods of time) where you might experience mania (high energy, rampant thoughts, inability to sleep, grandiose ideas or perspectives, etc.) and depressive states (the opposite, feeling very sluggish, sad, suicidal, etc.) These extreme highs and lows take turns, but do not necessarily appear and disappear within the same moment.

4. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is only a military man’s (veteran’s) disease.

PTSD (specifically) is NOT just a military man’s disease.

ANYONE can suffer from PTSD. A rape or sexual assault victim, a domestic abuse victim, a survivor of a natural disaster, someone who’s suffered a loss, or even a person who did not face any violence or physical threats themselves directly, but happened to witness someone else who did (i.e vicarious trauma). The symptoms include having flashbacks of that event or events, nightmares/night terrors, anxiety/panic attacks, onsets of depression, reacting in a way as if the event is re-occurring, etc.

And don’t believe all of the movies in which a person supposedly has PTSD. As a sufferer myself, I honestly think that super hero movies, (like Iron Man 3, The Incredible Hulk, etc.) are better depictions of the disorder than other films out there, and that’s a little pathetic if you ask me!

5. Psychiatric medications ("psych meds") are bad.

People often tend to believe that psychiatric medicine is harmful or bad. That, or they believe that "psych meds" are simply “happy pills” and “an easy way out” for those with mental illness to avoid dealing with their problems. Again, this is simply not true.

Just like any other detrimental medical condition, mental illness is still an illness. For many mental disorders, medication is necessary, just like it would be for a Diabetic taking Insulin. For some individuals with mental illness, medication is needed for survival. (myself included) For others, like those suffering from mild to moderate Depression, Anxiety, or ADHD (for instance) medication can help ease symptoms quite a bit so that they can function normally. And having personal Therapy alongside taking prescribed medication regularly can greatly improve one’s quality of life.

6. Seeking help for such disorders will lead to being ostracized by one’s community/loved ones and make symptoms worse.

Seeking help for such disorders will and should NOT lead to being ostracized by one’s community/loved ones nor should it make symptoms worse.

I know it’s hard (really hard) to come out to anyone about possibly having a mental disorder, especially because they’re so commonly misunderstood and people who are uneducated tend to think that people are the way they are because of nature, personality, or attitude. But when you do have the strength, courage, and bravery to open up to someone else, you are working to alleviate the stigma, increase awareness, empower yourself, grow as a person, become well, and promote understanding of mental health! So don’t let being (or seeming) vulnerable, irrational, or “crazy” scare you from getting the help you need and correcting society’s false impressions and preconceived notions.

It’s important that we do our part to protect ourselves and others from the hell that mental illnesses can put us through, become autonomous and prevent societal constructs from framing people as criminals and psychos for having something they cannot control without the proper intervention.

Fun Fact: The stigma associated with mental illness is called Sanism. Just like Racism or Sexism, it is a form of oppression and discrimination. Let’s try our best to become educated and eradicate it!

Another Fun Fact: There is also a thing called the “Mad Pride Movement.” Just like the wonders of “Gay Pride”, those with mental health issues are a closeted population. It’s time we come out and stop being ashamed of who we are!

Let's change the world together one step at a time.  .  . Mad Pride!!!!

                                         Sorry this was sooo late coming! As always, thanks for reading. =)

May is Mental Health and Foster Care Awareness Month

Hi all!

So sorry I've been gone for so long, I've just been crazy busy, stressed out, and overwhelmed with family drama, health issues, and the work load these past few weeks.

However, I'm back because this is a VERY important month to me!

May is National Mental Health and Foster Care Awareness Month!

 





To avoid the awkward feeling of staying closeted and hiding my life from the public, I will come out and openly say that I have both Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Bipolar Disorder I. Though I have both of these mental disorders/illnesses, they do not have me.

I am also a former foster youth and this impacts my life and many others like me in several ways.

I find it rather funny how we live in a world where many people regularly take things to keep them awake when I have to take things to help me sleep. And many drug users and alcoholics love taking things to alter their mental states when I desperately take medication to maintain normalcy.

Other people take for granted having homes to go back to and families to trust when tons of former foster youth are not familiar with these things.

I talk about my diagnoses, health problems, and challenging background not to obtain pity or condolences from the general population (of my readers and friends, that is), but to gain understanding, awareness around such topics, and to relate to others who may also be suffering from similar ailments.

So, for this entire month, I will try my best (even though I'm ridiculously busy with midterms, papers, work, community service, etc.) to update my blog weekly with information and personal experiences surrounding these subjects. For those of you waiting to hear about how my Birthday Vegas trip went, I will eventually post about that, but not for a while since the discussions that have to take place this month are much more important.

So stay tuned for more posts about Mental Health and Foster Care Awareness, and, as always, thanks for reading! :)

The Birthday Blues

Hi all!

Soooo sorry I've been sooo gone for sooo long! I was super busy with Finals at the end of last quarter and then I was taking a staycation from everything during Spring Break and settling in during the first week of this quarter, but now I can continue posting juicy stuff!

April is my month! Yep, I'm an April baby, which I love because the Spring is always a beautiful season and I'm definitely an Aries at heart and Diamonds are indeed a girl's best friend. ;)

However, even so, my Birthday has always been something I've dreaded. For as long as I can remember, it's always been a day I feel awkward and uncomfortable. Not just because I'm not too used to others celebrating me or paying sooo much attention to me, but because something has always gone wrong. During my 8th Birthday, my grandmother soiled herself at my cousin's house, causing the entire place to reek and forcing us to air it out and have everyone temporarily evacuate because the odor was that pungent and disgusting. Though all of my friend's parents were laughing it off, it was extremely embarrassing for me. During my 9th and 13th Birthdays, I was extremely sick for the entire week and unable to celebrate. Every other Birthday after those required me to go shopping for all of the favors, food, decorations etc. by myself, even at my early ages, since my mother and uncle refused to help me in anyway except for by providing me with some of the funds necessary to purchase the supplies, which, in itself, was considered my "gift". (even though I had to do ALL of the work) On my 14th Birthday, my Aunt Robin wanted to take me to get my hair done as an early present and my mom refused and yelled at her and her close friend when they came to pick me up, making a huge scene late at night. When I retaliated by screaming that I hated her, my Uncle decided to punish me by slapping me in the face for the first time, repeatedly, and his nails dug into my arm as he held me down so I couldn't get away. Actually, scratch that. Slapping is an understatement, it was more of a smacking me in the face. And while this was occurring, my mother just paused for about 30 seconds and watched him do it BEFORE she decided to come in and defend me by threatening him with a frying pan. Yeah, talk about dysfunctional family alright. SMH

But I think even in comparison to all of those horror stories, my Birthday experience that was by far the worse was my 16th. 2 weeks prior, my high school sweetheart and first REAL boyfriend had JUST freshly broken up with me, and at the time, he was my world. I was so depressed that nothing brought me joy, and while my foster mother and family organized a simple but nice party for me, I had to fake joy the entire time. And when it comes to receiving gifts, for some reason, I'm a TERRIBLE LIAR! Since I'm not used to opening things in front of people, it's really hard for me to lie about liking a gift I really don't like, and you can read this ALL OVER my face. And I guess it was also since I felt so crappy inside during this particular party, everyone KNEW which gifts I actually liked and which I didn't, which was humiliating and sad. I think I even ended up crying alone in the bathroom or back yard at a certain point to hide from everyone. Remembering this day gives me a painful sting just how recalling all embarrassing moments does. Ugh!

So because of all of these past incidents, actually enjoying my birthday and having fun is a really hard thing to do. I've always resented it and dreaded its coming and become relieved as soon as its gone away and come and past.

But this year, I want to turn that around! I want to really LOVE my birthday this year! It's my 21st and I'm super psyched to be going to Las Vegas with my Aunt Robin and a few close friends! It's something I've DREAMED of! And I've NEVER been out of the state in my entire life, so it's a great change of pace for me. I want to see the Blue Man Group and go dancing, and maybe gamble a little and drink a little and just have a BLAST! And because my Aunt Robin and I share this month for both of our birthdays, we want to make an effort to celebrate ourselves not just during the two special days, but for the WHOLE month! We DESERVE it! So wish me tons of luck and I will post about the adventure as soon as it happens!

And do look forward to more juicy posts coming this and next month!

                                                                                  Thanks for reading! :)

As Our Foremothers Swore (Short Collection of Poetry)

As I mentioned in the previous post, I was really excited to have the opportunity to work on a creative project for my English M107A, Women's Literature course. This is not the entire assignment because some of the poems were already included in posts prior to this one, but here are a few that were inspired directly from the texts we studied in class. What I wanted to do was adapt the format and style of writing from the authors we discussed, but still give each poem my voice and my story. So in order to show you the comparisons and contrasts, I've included the original works we went over in class as well as my renditions. The title is adopted from my poem "Society" mentioned in my last blog post, "When it rains, it pours." Enjoy!

In Celebration of My Uterus

By Anne Sexton

Everyone in me is a bird.

I am beating all my wings.  

They wanted to cut you out  

but they will not.

They said you were immeasurably empty  

but you are not.

They said you were sick unto dying  

but they were wrong.

You are singing like a school girl.  

You are not torn.

Sweet weight,

in celebration of the woman I am

and of the soul of the woman I am

and of the central creature and its delight  

I sing for you. I dare to live.

Hello, spirit. Hello, cup.

Fasten, cover. Cover that does contain.  

Hello to the soil of the fields.

Welcome, roots.

Each cell has a life.

There is enough here to please a nation.

It is enough that the populace own these goods.  

Any person, any commonwealth would say of it,  

“It is good this year that we may plant again  

and think forward to a harvest.

A blight had been forecast and has been cast out.”

Many women are singing together of this:  

one is in a shoe factory cursing the machine,  

one is at the aquarium tending a seal,  

one is dull at the wheel of her Ford,  

one is at the toll gate collecting,

one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,  

one is straddling a cello in Russia,

one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,

one is painting her bedroom walls moon color,  

one is dying but remembering a breakfast,  

one is stretching on her mat in Thailand,  

one is wiping the ass of her child,

one is staring out the window of a train  

in the middle of Wyoming and one is  

anywhere and some are everywhere and all  

seem to be singing, although some can not  

sing a note.

Sweet weight,

in celebration of the woman I am

let me carry a ten-foot scarf,

let me drum for the nineteen-year-olds,

let me carry bowls for the offering

(if that is my part).

Let me study the cardiovascular tissue,

let me examine the angular distance of meteors,  

let me suck on the stems of flowers

(if that is my part).

Let me make certain tribal figures

(if that is my part).

For this thing the body needs

let me sing

for the supper,  

for the kissing,  

for the correct  

yes.

In Celebration of My Mind

(My rendition)

Everything in me is a word

and I am singing loud.

They wanted to lobotomize you,

magnetize you, 

shock you with 450 volts,

but they will not.

They said that you’d turn out impaired,

but you are not.

They said that you were schizo,

but they were wrong.

You are as sharp as a machete

You are not defective.

Sweet waves and impulses,

in celebration of the intellect I am

and of the human I am

and of the spirit and heart I have

I sing for you. I dare to be different.

Hello imagination. Hello unseen world.

Information center that does compute

Hello to the formation of dreams.

Welcome thoughts and consciousness.

Each neuron has a mission.

There is enough to rule the world.

It is enough to maintain sanity

and teach logic and reason

to a school of children knee deep in fantasy and pretense

Any educator, any professor would say of it

“It is essential that we establish discipline

and follow rules and structure, but question what may seem unfair.”

Many others are realizing this:

one is in a hospital having an epiphany,

one is at the doctor learning her diagnosis,

one is at a conference panel sharing her story with listeners,

one is at the therapist regaining strength from her struggles,

one is in a jail cell, receiving help for the first time

one is at home playing with her children

one is talking to herself to make sense of it all

one is in the middle of going off on a fellow employee

one is on the phone with the operator of a hotline

one is throwing the razor blades away

one is walking away from the bar

one is taking her medication before bed while writing this account

in the middle of LA and one is

anywhere and some are everywhere and all

seem to be rationalizing, although they

were called insane.

Sweet waves and impulses,

in celebration of the intellect I am

let me write a thousand poems

let me remember times good and bad

let me put up banners for the festival

(if that is my part).

Let me study the atmosphere

let me examine the tissues of our skin

let me smell the fragrance of flowers

(if that is my part).

Let me decorate the altar

(if that is my part).

For this thing the body needs

let me sing

for the evening,

for the kissing,

for the capable

yes.

La Migra

By Pat Mora

I

Let's play La Migra

I'll be the Border Patrol.

You be the Mexican maid.

I get the badge and sunglasses.

You can hide and run,

but you can't get away

because I have a jeep.

I can take you wherever

I want, but don't ask

questions because

I don't speak Spanish.

I can touch you wherever

I want but don't complain

too much because I've got

boots and kick--if I have to,

and I have handcuffs.

Oh, and a gun.

Get ready, get set, run.

II

Let's play La Migra

You be the Border Patrol.

I'll be the Mexican woman.

Your jeep has a flat,

and you have been spotted

by the sun.

All you have is heavy: hat,

glasses, badge, shoes, gun.

I know this desert,

where to rest,

where to drink.

Oh, I am not alone.

You hear us singing

and laughing with the wind,

Agua dulce brota aqui,

aqui, aqui, but since you

can't speak Spanish,

you do not understand.

Get ready.

Abusi sui minori

(My rendition)

                        I

Let’s play abusi sui minori

I’ll be the aggressive parent

You be the innocent child.

I have many years on you,

am fully grown

and have bigger hands and longer arms

with more strength and muscle than you do

You can hide and run

but you can’t get away.

You cannot question my authority

I can punish you however I want

because you are still a minor

and have no rights under my custody.

I can hit you wherever I want

but don’t scream or cry too much

because I have the articulation

to change the story

when the cops and social workers come.

Get ready, get set, run.

II

Let’s play abusi sui minori

You be the aggressive parent.

I’ll be the innocent child. 

You have been reported to the police,

are ragged, set in your ways, and only getting older.

I am youthful, full of energy, and resilient.

You are unaware of your inner demons

I am not.

You do not know your own strength

I do.

You can’t see me,

I am no longer physically in your presence

But you can still hear me taunting you

non mi può prendere

Get ready.

The Window of the Woman Burning    

by Marge Piercy

Woman dancing with hair

on fire, woman writhing in the

cone of orange snakes, flowering

into crackling lithe vines:

Woman

you are not the bound witch

at the stake, whose broiled alive

agonized screams

thrust from charred flesh

darkened Europe in the nine millions.

Woman

you are not the madonna impaled

whose sacrifice of self leaves her

empty and mad as wind,

or whore crucified

studded with nails.

Woman

you are the demon of a fountain of energy

rushing up from the coal hard

memories in the ancient spine,

flickering lights from the furnace in the solar

plexus, lush scents from the reptilian brain,

river that winds up the hypothalamus

with its fibroids of pleasure and pain

twisted and braided like rope,

firing the lanterns of the forebrain

till they glow blood red.

You are the fire sprite

that charges leaping thighs,

that whips the supple back on its arc

as deer leap through the ankles:

dance of a woman strong

in beauty that crouches

inside like a cougar in the belly

not in the eyes of others measuring.

You are the icon of woman sexual

in herself like a great forest tree

in flower, liriodendron bearing sweet tulips,

cups of joy and drunkenness.

You drink strength from your dark fierce roots

and you hang at the sun's own fiery breast

and with the green cities of your boughs

you shelter and celebrate

woman, with the cauldrons of your energies

burning red, burning green.

Window into a Prisoner of the Mind

(My rendition)

Patient suffering in your

lonesome, patient crouching up against the

padded cell, twitching

with tremors caused by the chemicals

isolated from all of society;

ostracized

Patient

a slave to your own thoughts and desires

that no one else understands

mind running rampant

non-stop

with wicked voices eating away at your brain

Patient

you are not mad

you are not truly alone

you will not rot away in quarantine.

Patient,

there are others like you

there is hope

though they are suffering too

they will be revived

and not only survive,

but thrive.

You are a savant

you are brilliant

though your head is crowded with

heaps of what’s nonsensical

flashbacks that play on repeat

and rewind over and over

coercing you to ruminate

ever distant torment

causing you to remember at the same time you forget

forcing you to assemble

and constantly reset

that possibility that you might be a hero

but you just haven’t grasped it yet.

You are the revolution

fitted into the compartments of a single vessel

stirring with velocity

within the constraints of your specimen.

You will come out of your haze

to see better days

become as free as a butterfly

to graze the sky

and fly away.

There’s a lot more deep stuff about to come in the future posts, so stay tuned.

And as always, Thanks for reading. =)