Thursday, October 25, 2007

Life Isn't a Sit.Com

A friend once told me my life sounds like a But just what classifies anything a sitcom? Drama here, a few laughs there, a downfall of tears will always have the audience relating to the cast, but when you are the cast, can you physically handle that many emotions in one season? Sounds a bit suicidal. If I could play out one episode of my life, it would probably go something like this....

[Enter Tara, frantically searching for her phone.]
It's gotta be somewhere! He hasn't called all day, something has to be wrong, I hope he is okay!
[Tara's phone goes off, could it be him? After 5 more rings, she finds it buried between her bed pillows.]
Hell-o? Oh, hey sister, what's up?
Candice: Nothing, are you taking me to class tonight?
Tara: Yes Candice, like I said the first five times.
Candice: Just making sure, see you later.
[Without saying goodbye, Tara hangs up and drops on her bed, with an exaggerated sigh of relief.]
Why do I keep doing this to myself? If I want to talk to him so bad, I should just call, but why can't he ever want to talk to me that bad too? Am I asking too much, cause I think it's pretty easy to pick up a phone just to say hi, or send me a text letting me know you miss me? Maybe I am expecting too much, men will never give you what you want. Even if it is just a phone call.

[Deciding to get out of the house, Tara puts on her jacket and heads to her girl's house, to take her mind off Him. Unfortunately, her arrival and her frustration made the night all about him.]
Just call him Tara, cause what if something did happen? You will never know!
Jess: Tara I really think you need to call him and tell him how you feel, if you're not gonna tell him, don't even call.
Mo Mo: Don't call, until 11.
Tara: I'll call at 11.
[The rest of the night Tara spent her time trying to focus on her favorite television show, but found herself shaking her knees and slapping her thighs, unsuccessfully avoiding the clock hung on her porcelain white wall. After her show, and a slice of pizza and fries, it is time.]
Okay, I'm calling, I'll be so disappointed if he doesn't even answer.
Rrringgg...rrrinngg....Rrringggg. "You have reached the voice mailbox of, ___________" Please leave your message after the tone..."
No answer [she whispers]. Hey its Tara, just wanted to see how you were doing, give me a call back when you get this alright? Later."
[The girls sat in silence as Tara tried to hide her disappointment, while her eyes tried to water so she gave a little laugh.]
I'm gonna write a paper tonight guys, the whole thing this time.
[Everyone lets out an awkward laugh, and Tara gets ready to leave. No phone call, no messages, no drama yet, no real tears yet. Just shaky legs but she needs to, because life isn't a]


Monday, October 22, 2007

Crying Eyes

So I was working on this poem a while back, and it was finished, but I wasnt feelin it.. So I decided I'm tweaking it, completely tweakin. *Dom, hope this is something real, now that the eyes are real.

There's something unique about the human eye.
It's reaction to many things r visible to the world,
Irritated or Dry, Itchy, whatever the case may be,
Eyes are more than just a tool to see.
Emotions a completely different category on their own,
Eyes can react depending on your current tone.
They widen when you're surprised,
They close when you're finding your mind,
But most intriguing would be, they cry when happiness is an emotion you cant find.

Yeah some people cry when they're happy, but those tears dont hurt,
They barely fall far enough to reach the sleeve of your shirt.
But Sad tears never stop flowing, even when the owner's cheeks are dry.
And that person starts to think, why cant I just stop this drawn out cry?
So we fight back our tears, but days later, or sometimes years,
We give in and expose all of our real crying fears.
Crying Eyes never lie, they tell the true emotion of someone,
And Crying Eyes are always crying, to stop them nothing can be done.

When it's feeling hard to breathe, and words dont form easily,
Crying Eyes may be telling u, "Stop trying to hide me!"
But you continue to ignore Mr./Mrs. Eyes,
And sooner or later you, dont even hear your own cries.
Keep crying, is all I can tell you,
Because the more you hold it in,
The longer it takes for you to win.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Something like a Bitch

After having been through so many emotions in so little time, I've reached this one blurry conclusion: Love is, something like a bitch.
Shakespeare said it best, "The course of true love never did run smoothly", this is how it did run.
There were two hopeless romantics in search of legal ecstasy,
Who as fate would have it, meet each other by some form of serendipity.
They are immediately attracted and the first few dates are bliss, the first kiss? Intoxicating.
The next, unavoidable, and the next, historical.
The first night of intimacy, is when they reached the first level of their ecstasy.
Their night was the perfect midnight song that lulls you to sleep,
The perfect martini, not too dry or too sweet.
The perfect chemistry, Him+Her="We"
Suddenly, there's a slight change in their course,
"I Love you" slips out, but was it by force?
Now there's a certain awkwardness that they share,
In levels that they certainly would rather not bare.
One discussion leads to his response. "I Love you too, baby, I love you."
Now she's thinking: "Is it comfort for my stupidity? Or words of what is really felt in he?"
She can't ask him, lack of self assurance would reflect pretty poorly,
So she accepts his declaration, and dreams about it sorely.
Natural disasters occur, but in dreams anything takes action.
But her one dream led to many a dreadful faction.
An explosion, not nature,
Very forced, almost torture.
It's a terror, something unpredicted,
But the suspect, unconvicted.
Was it she that ruined he? Or was he ruined at all?
For after the explosion she woke up to a fall.
Now she's fearful it's a sign,
That their expressions are not fine,
"Sooner or later, he'll no longer be mine."
What forces these thoughts... is she that much intertwined?
That her heart is afraid to accept a perfect find?
Questions clouding her judgment so she decides to speak.
And all the thoughts she's been thinking, to him she will leak.
But he's worried, "how can she love me, she barely trusts me!"
And that was the end. Love's binds will not bend,
And she's stuck all alone, her ecstasy at an end.
While he thinks in his head, "I really did love her, but what message did I send?"
Torn apart she decides, "I refuse to ever let this happen again."
The two hopeless romantics lost their way and denied the existence of their ecstasy, and when asked if they'll love again, they both reply "Love doesn't love me."

Moral of the story: Love is Something like a bitch.
Shouts to jess john for the song hook-up.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Back in my nook

So trips back home haven't been pleasure, but rather depressing, and I just returned from one of those depressing weekends. I know they say when a person passes it was their time, but it just seems so unfair to assume that. I spent my saturday morning fighting a long overdue cry, a battle which was lost to a consistent flow of slow quiet tears, no sobs (that draws attention) and I started thinkin about all the things that were making the day sad. And I realized, this particular day wouldnt have been that hard if it wasnt for the "I'm sorry for your losses,", and the "are you okays," and most especially, the hugs from family members you never knew you have that suggest the, "it's okay to cry, we're all just human." These three things are the ultimate tear triggers, even if you're not feeling any type of way about what is going on around you. So After i figured this out, I started thinkin... i must be a fucced up niece to be thinking all this out in my head while I should be grieving her departure!!! so I stopped... and the tears started flowing, the nose started running, at that point I coudnt tell if I was sick or not anymore. Now I'm back in Philly, tears absent for the past few hours... Guess I'm safe in my nook now.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Sickness and in Grievance?

In the light of my current low feelings and weakened immune system, I find myself wondering, Does misery invoke ill health? Very random as it is, I think it's a pretty valid question, don't you? Take my situation for example, I'm currently grieving for a lost one, but I thought I was doing ok but the last few days have left me achy and nauseous. Hmmm, or could it just be the drastic change in weather, from 88 degrees one day, to 68 degrees the next. I'm not too sure what it is, but I do believe there is a connection. When one grieves, you want to stay curled up in bed, with nobody bothering you, and just let time pass you by until you are physically and mentally ready to get back up and race with it. But what if the soul is not built to handle that? Will the temporary blow on one's soul trickle down to the immune system?? Tell me if I'm crazy.


Granted my rather hectic life, I will try my best to keep a certain consistency with my blog posts... While that is true, I refuse to post anything just to post it, words are the true expression of what I feel and they are not to be taken lightly. I respect words, and words respect me.
So until next time,
Yours Truly,