GSS

Last night was just what I needed. For the last three years, I have been a committed member of my service organization, ADIEHARD if you will. I was constantly heralded as the Ride and Die chick in the click... it was in my nature.

In my opinion, if you're gonna be about something, you need to be about something, right? Well, I believed in community service and I believed that one could grow exponentially through their work with the community. I still do honestly, but I came to the realization that I have grown as much as I can here. At this moment. Strange for me, I always had such grand ideas for the chapter, but I'm done.

There is a time when things stop growing and start deteriorating. Being a member of the 'old school' officially, I've noticed a general decay in the amount of respect and sisterly relations. The strive to be the best at what we do is completely missing, and the only thing people seemed to be inspired by is numbers, cash and members. It's not what I'm about and it hit me that this depressed and stressed feeling that has plagued me for months now, is in some way related to this chapter.

Most do not understand my extreme loyalty to a group of familiar strangers and my obsession with mission statements and purposes, but it stems from my background in the church. I take words and letters and statements to heart. So when I made the decision to join, I made a life decision. I am like this in all areas. Sometimes overwhelmingly so. One of the reasons I respect Ray so much is because of his similar mentality towards such things. He's a man of his word, honestly. It's beautiful.

So yeah, after a dangerously uninspiring first meeting in which the general group arrived late, casually dressed, and commenced to texting throughout the entire time, I came to the conclusion that it was definitely time to go. I can't be the only who wants us to be a success, things don't work that way. And I can't waist anymore of my inner peace trying to keep us afloat.

I was suppose to be President this year, but I have no desire any longer to lead a group of half hearted and young minded individuals who have yet to show up prepared to work. My org was there before me and it will be there after.

So last night's neo soul was much more about letting go and being honest for me. Enjoying the scene, partaking in the atmosphere and breathing. Experiencing the moment versus rushing through it to get to the next one. It was fun and just what I needed.

List Idea I stole from Michelle...

I love the idea and I can't help but find it serendipitous that I saw it on ms. michelle's page... I need to get out of the habit of being a depressed punk all the time and making sure I can find something to be grateful about every week might help. I'm a sucker for those pick me up anecdotes...

- waking up and knowing I'm not broke, I'm not hungry, and I'm not sick
-people who teach me more about myself and how i can be a better person everytime I see them
- patience
- his unconditional love that inspires the change in me
- hard lessons learned, finally
- classes starting, the beginning of the end of this chapter of my life, finally
- neo soul, it's changed me, permanently
- paying the bills and keeping my car
- new friends and old friends, found and lost
- trips down 290 E
- Visiting UH, the place I pray is meant for me.
- Romantic and surprising dates
- hope for something bigger and better
- A chance to change

I've had a lovely weekend with the love of my life and for the first time and years, I'm relaxed. Truly chill and alright with not having every little minute planned to a detail. I've had ridiculously crazy sex, fun foods, kinky desserts and plenty of conversation with the someone special.

I wonder...why has it been so hard to stop being in control of every situation? I mean, not like I had to be Ms. Take Over, but I've had a hard time letting go of the past. It's controlled me, consumed me even. I can't remember a time when my decisions weren't wholly based on something that trans passed in my recent history. It's not healthy. Holding onto all that baggage... and I don't want it anymore.

I dream about becoming a scholar. A hip, crazy haired, scattered brained, eccentric scholar who thrives off of firsthand research and can speak various lost languages. I dream of getting lost in some Forest off of some coast or another. Getting married on a Greek island. Storms at sea, midnight salsa in Mexico, getting caught up in the view from the top of some mountain...

It's one reason I want to become more healthy. I want to the time and the body to do all this stuff. Visit all these places before I go. I know, I am rambling... it happens when you're bored/waiting for someone. I'm all dolled up and getting ready to visit UH. The place where I hope to be attending Grad school. Grad school, a PHD, the impossible dream for somebody like me. It would be incredible to walk across that stage and become Dr. Hicks-Courtney. I mean, how many people get the opportunity? I have this crazy once in the life time chance to fully indulge in this fantastic educational experience and become a more thorough poet. Awesome!


Work in progress poem below...

Field Spirits
Moments, lay dormant.
Stop your incessant ticking.

Breathe, hold.
Release unease and tension.

Remember us for a second.

Invoke we field spirits.
Call us by name, by blood, by transgression.

Sheer layers of memory laced along the foundations of this house.
This temple to the gods of small town America.
Spearheaded priests and priestesses.
Their chants and hymns sung solemnly from dawn till dusk.
Chants and hymns sent to us field spirits.
"Come carry the water! Come lay on my bed!"

Their whips, for cattle to be sacrificed, covered in dried flakes of blood.
Stories braided into the leather.
The mouth of one slave slacked against the neck of another.
One vanilla cream colored demon and one muddied angel.
Moans curled and collapsed in the corners of this room,
as one gave Hell,
and the other went Home.

Bones lay raggedly across the hills of this foreign land.
Death and love locked in the turning blades of grass.

And they wonder why we shake our hips and laugh.
We've seeped into the seams of books and minds.
The legends of our lives retold time after time.

It means we field spirits will never die.

My head's already buzzing with all the things I want to write, all of the ideas. A story about women. A story about men. Stories I use to read. Lately, I've really been trying to read as much as possible and I am loving it! I am remembering exactly how much I love a good story. A good read. To get all lost in the hints and details of a good plot. Believe it or not, I started off writing short stories before poetry. Poetry felt like a cop out to real writing for awhile. You know, everyone can write some sembelance of a poem, but not everyone keep intrigued in the story.

Hmmm...

I'm still young enough to dream big dreams. Still young enough to make mistakes that can somehow be corrected, maybe.

Woke up this morning inspired and ready to clean this disaster of a room I live in. Make breakfast, wash clothes, sort through loads of random shit, that when ordered correctly, somehow create this accurate picture of me. Pictures of my mom when she was 17, when she was my age, when she was here three years ago. Pictures of an old boyfriend, the last two I didn't burn because I thought it might be a great story to tell my daughter one day. My sisters, back when there was still time...

Now, everything seems fast forwarded and akward. I don't know what to say to them. Everything either comes out as advice or chastisment. I can't relax around them. I remember that one time that I sat in my apartment in Austin. My electricity was out and rent was past collection. Strange men were still coming to the door at all hours of the night and I seemed forgotten by the people who mattered most to me in my bit of the world. I was lonely. And scared, but mostly lonely.

I assured myself that a new point of view was all I needed, and that moving away would be great. I could just take a back pack and what little bit of money I had and got on a bus to some other city. I wish I had been brave enough to do that. But I wasn't. I wrote letters to each member of my family, telling them I would disappear for a few years, and then return. Told them I loved them, despite all the faults. I would miss them, sort of.

But fear, and my horrible habit of reasoning every move kept right where I was. I was obligated to do this and do that and stay right where I was. I'm still scared. Moving right within the lines... I think about all of the people I've met.

My chest is heavy with the burden of responsibility. I've always envied the free living, the travelers, the lovers, the spirits free roaming the world. Wanting to let go, like them and do what I want. When I want. How I want!

This burden to blend in... to forgive... to appreciate and notice and take over those around me... weighs so heavy sometimes. But what about me? How did I get so lost in this process of do for others?

Not that these are horrible things, just that sometimes they keep me from truly developing.
I'm scared.

Grad School

So I'm scared...like extremely...wtf do I think I'm doing scared. It's Grad School and it's poetry. Who does that? It's like literary suicide to say I want to be a Poet. Poet's don't make money. Poet's are categorized forever as sensitive souls and they are rarely recognized until long after their deaths... and I'm a Woman! WTF!

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system...lol. Really though, what's to come of the young girl with no sure clear path in front of her. It's like every morning I wake up, I go searching for the next clue to life's great mystery puzzle challenge. And sometimes I find it, and sometimes I don't.

Love

I'm in Love. Not kind-of-I-think-this-might-be-the-one love, but Love. The I've-Always-Been-His-Wife-We-Were-Made-To-Fit-Like-This Love. I can't see myself anywhere else, with anyone else. It's amazing. Despite all my failed attempts to push him away with my meddlesome emotions and plaguing problems and heavy ass baggage, I'm in Love and he's still here.

The trial of suffering come from the passage of time in Depression has finally passed and here on the otherside, is him. The answer was so simple. So clear. Just let go and fall. And since I've been falling, I've been seeing all sorts of things amazing.

Life is simply this moment, this opportunity every morning to wake up an doing something different. To not just let people pass through our lives like ghosts ships, haunting regrets left dangling in the shadows of our past. But to embrace every chance, everything!

I woke up today and decided I wanted to be happy. Despite everything that will come, I want to be happy, and I don't want to look back and see everything I missed out on. I want to say I did everything I could.


An Old Woman
Let me die an old hag in my bed.
Fingers aching and cracked and creased.
Back crooked and feet callussed.

I'll die with my eyes open.
Sunlight scorching the hallows of my leathered cheeks.
Catching the twinkle in my gums.

I'll look directly into the sun,
and tell my children what I saw in there.

Let my brow be heavy with sweat,
from running by the river
or from a heated afternoon of lovemaking
in the bathroom
or from the churning,
done in rememberance of some ancestor or another.

I want to be exhausted.
Catching my breath, for just a moment
Before letting it slip away in the faint chuckles
of one last good laugh.

Let my house be teeming with people
from all over the world
their hurried stories of wild treasure chases
and lost loves
and war
echoing into the rafters of my creaking home
built with my hands
and following me to the place beyond this one.

Let me die in his arms
Feeling his lips cowering above mine
grazing the corners of my mouth
pressing, earnestly against my hot breath.

His fingers resting atop my haulted breast.
Staring with me into the oncoming Change,
whispering my name once more
as I exit out the door
and take his voice to the Heavens.

Faylita H.