I Tried

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I tried not to love you.

Armor surrounded ventricle…no block
Cordial pleasantries exchanged…no fool
Bodies stand-in in nature…no matter
Bombardment of truth…no waiver
Time-lapsed days…no change

The art of pretending gave me no solace

Apparently
For me
It doesn’t work that way.

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Blogging U: Who Am I & Why Am I Here?

Sooo I decided to embark on Blogging 101. To create an introduction. I have been signing up for the last year and never did it. I wanted to challenge myself, one, & two, hold myself accountable. To write more consistently. To stick with it.

Who am I? The short version: I’m Tiffany. Originally from small town Georgia, like literally cows & deer & the everybody is your cousin. For as long as I can remember, I’ve danced to the beat of my own drum, coming out to play when I felt like it. An extroverted introvert. Hence, my move to Atlanta & also New York for a bit. I decided to burst out of the closet a few years ago (it was hot in there…) & it has been weirdness ever since. I started this blog to write about my feelings, where my mind goes…over sadness, over randomness, over whatever.

Words are always floating around in my head. I write down whatever comes to mind. Sometimes that can be words or random sketches with commentary. Sometimes I feel like one day I’m going to forget everything I’m supposed to remember; at least these really pivotal moments in my life and I want to remember them. Putting it on paper makes it concrete.

As a child, I was told I shouldn’t talk so much, keep things to myself, don’t share personal things. Into adulthood, I have absently continued to do this very thing. To my mental detriment and I got to a point where I was over it. I don’t mind being bare. And why not in front of a bunch of strangers! Strangers don’t judge you, not at first anyway. They’re just curious. About you. Your story. Writing is exposure, vulnerability, openness, and freedom. I’ve lost my voice & keep finding it again.

Reading this blog, you will hear about my humdrum/drama-filled life: rainbow-flagged, joyful, crazy, spiritual journey, love and love lost, my thoughts on what is going on in the world, and my thoughts on WTH is going on in this world,  & specifically, my world.

My hope is to connect with readers, writers, & wordsmiths who share my love of expression, who enjoy a good laugh, or a good purge. To continue to grow my writing. My hope is that my writing touches hearts, opens minds, heals souls, evokes smiles, and reminds that love is present even if destroying everything in its sight or creating the most beautiful oasis in this life.

Writing is therapy. Writing is fun. Writing is my no filter expression. Writing is who I am. Writing is why I’m here.

 

 

 

 

 

Video Diary #2 Used To Be Mine

“She’s imperfect but she tries

She is good but she lies…

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

She is gone but she used to be mine.”

I remember watching the movie, The Waitress, years ago, which has now been adapted into a play and the soundtrack written by Sara Bareilles. One of my favorite singer/songwriters. The story is about a waitress with a beautiful heart whom everyone loves except the person she loves, her controlling husband. Her love for him overshadows the love for herself. She is better to others than she is to herself. Like those of us who want to see the good in everyone, we hope that the good in us will somehow make the ones we love value us more. She struggles to find her voice as it has been silenced for so long. Through her gift of baking, she realizes her passion, her dreams, and begins to imagine the life she always knew she wanted but never thought she could have.

Sometimes little parts of us die when we go through things but if we can push through hard enough & long enough, we spark the flame that ignites the fire in us. We may be broken for a while. We may lose ourselves for a while. Hopefully, for just a little while.

Seeing the parallels to my own life, I was immediately drawn to this song. Inducing those raindrops that fall only from the eyes. At first listen, it sounded like a love song of love lost and it is. Listening more, I discovered it was a song of losing oneself. The person she used to be. I misplaced the girl I was a long time ago and I miss her almost daily. I see glimpses of her sometimes and get excited. It gives me hope that one day soon she will return even better than before.

Seasons Change

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…I stopped to stand in the leaves
They looked so pretty there.
Shades of yellow– lemon, dandelion, mustard, butterscotch
I’d hoped for the crunch beneath my feet
It was my favorite part
But it wasn’t time for that yet
And with the weather so wet and rainy
Admiring nature’s beauty
came in at second best
For a minute, the worries that worried me worried me a little less
Leaving the present moment for a daydream of laying in a pile of these
Soft entities that once belonged to the trees that bore them and now belong to themselves
For me to walk by
And capture them in their best light
Alive but wet, and well

Video Diary #1 Would You Still?

If I showed you my flaws

If I couldn’t be stong

Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same?

I’ve had this song playing consistently at random intervals over the last few weeks. Literally everywhere. What message is the universe attempting to relay to me? And it got me to thinking…

Does this type of love still exist? Do these type of people still exist? Rarely are situations perfect. Never are people perfect. With this truth and if perfection was never going to happen but was still the goal, would it make a difference? If they have everything to offer or nothing at the moment, is that enough? Is that person any less worth loving?

Is there unfaltering loyalty these days? Can we depend on another to be there no matter what? To love us when it’s beyond hard. What about when we don’t even love ourselves? Can we say that we’ll have that home we call him or her? Does love now change based on condition? situation? mercury retrograde?

Or are we prone to flee at the first sign of uncomfortableness? A situation we’re not used to, not equipped for: job loss, poverty, illness, addiction, family clashes, etc. Can we push through? Is the bond strong enough?

If we were honest, would we still love the same?

 

The Numbing Effect

 

It came to mind how we find distractions.

People, places, things.

Who do we/What do we use for our leisure, our pleasure, our sedation, our replacement to stay high

Away from the truth or the pain or missing someone or everyday reality

Afraid to feel so we numb

A sip here| A line there | Yet another warm body |

It seems like harmless fun and it is for awhile until the “fun” becomes habitual and repetitive.

When do we say no to ourselves?

As the new year came in, I thought of how many people would be spending their time getting blazed, lit to the skies–To celebrate the now, new year. How many people spend their days and nights staying in a constant state of euphoria, buzz, high? To deal. How many people spend time jumping from person to person, man, woman, or both…in search of a peace they cannot find, because its too difficult to deal with themselves? By themselves. With themselves.

No judgments. My hope is that we finally find a way to deal with what is, what was, and what now. To allow ourselves fun without fake. Happiness without the temporary high. That its no longer about being numb. Its about living a life worth feeling. Being fully present. That hey…maybe its okay to be a little high sometimes. High off life. And maybe an occasional, non-habit forming aid.

 

 

What’s Eating You?

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I woke up this morning hungry. Then not hungry. I know food was in the kitchen. If I were to eat breakfast, I know exactly what I’d have. Cinnamon oatmeal, one egg, and a big glass of oj. But I didn’t want that so I just drank some water. I realized, I wasn’t hungry for food.

I’ve hungered for many things. Things I subconsciously blocked out. I really thought I was hungry. So I ate. Alot. All the time. For no reason. My stomach didn’t growl. No hunger headache. Just needed a bite or two. At 2 to 3 hour intervals, I was snacking on something. There were times it curbed my hunger. Most times I was left feeling unsatisfied. Not thrilled. Gluttonous. Still empty.

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I hungered for life, full life. For love. For consistency within myself. Within my relationships. Family. Friends. Lovers. Hungry for knowledge. For smarts. Not feeling smart enough. Smart anymore because life’s moments & bad choices had left me feeling stupid. I hungered for happiness. A thing that had long ago left my presence my life and I yearned for it. Pleaded for it. Thirsted for it. Cried for it. Prayed for it. It would peep its head in the doorway, smile, and disappear.

I hungered for normalcy. For a leg up. To make sense of the things happening around me. Hungered for reciprocity. Hungered for freedom. Hungered for joy. Hungered for happiness. For harmony. To numb. To erase those bummer feelings.

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I had to check myself and understand what it was all about. I was hungry and now I know why. Trimming the fat has a new literal meaning for me. Trimming the emotional & mental baggage. Learning the difference between emotional hunger…mental hunger…spiritual hunger…and physical hunger. Learning the why, the when to & how to feed each. Perhaps knocking off a few lbs in the process.

To the other emotional eaters in this world: Here’s to enjoying your meal. Your actual meal…In front of you. Not the plate of miscellaneous crap in your brain. Bon Appetit!

I Agree With Raven…I’m Over Labels.

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The world has been buzzing, almost losing it, over some comments made by Raven-Symone on a recent episode of Where Are They Now? with Oprah Winfrey. For those who don’t know who she is, She was the cute little curly haired girl on the Cosby Show in the 90’s known as Olivia. Funny comebacks & a sassy little attitude. She later had a show in her namesake along with many shows, films, & business ventures. Well she is grown now. There has been much speculation about her sexuality in the last few years. Is she gay? Isn’t she? Though she’s a celebrity, she manages to keep her private life private, which I can appreciate. Why does the world need to know all of your business? What restaurants you frequent? Who you’re dating? What gym you go to? Do you love eggs or just like ’em when you go to B&B’s? Who cares?

Truth is, Her job is to be an entertainer. Not to be a poster child for GAY. She admitted to being in a very happy relationship with a woman. Kudos! Glad she’s happy. That still doesn’t mean she wants to be labeled gay and I get it.

Gay is life for many. Gay is a label. Whether you choose to identify as gay or homosexual or bisexual or sexually fluid or “I like who I like, period”, gay is the label attached to you. Some of us don’t mind it. Some of us proudly wear it like a badge of honor. Letting everyone we come in contact with, just so you know, I’m gay! I’m here! Get used to it! Kudos to you. We all should be proud of who we are. Some of us don’t care either way. More of statement saying, I know who & what I am. Your approval or disapproval does not matter either way. No one proclaims their straightness. No one seeks acceptance to be straight. They just are and go on living their lives. I think the same should apply for gay. If I know you personally, then you know about me. If I don’t know you, why should I be anything more than just another human being?

This brings me to Raven’s now infamous statement: “I don’t want to be labeled gay. I want to be labeled as a human who loves humans. I’m tired of labels…I’m an American. I don’t want to be labeled African-American. I’m an American.”

People, especially Blacks were and still are upset with her for making that statement. They feel like she is denouncing her Blackness. Most African-Americans are made up of a mixture of nationalities, due to slavery & the rape/relationships of slave owners & slaves, along with the other nationalities migrating to America. For her, African American is a term. A label made by society to say this is what you are. This is the category you fit in. But what if you are an array of nationalities and cultures? What if your genetic make-up is a blur? Unknown because you cannot trace that far back nor are there sufficient records for your ancestors. Because they were African & therefore deemed as property as opposed to a person. All you know for certain is that you were born in America. To American parents. An American citizen.

I have been having this conversation with myself for awhile. I know I’m Black. Then too, I know I come from Native Americans. Looking at the fair skin of some of family members & as well as hair textures also leads me to believe we are derived from European ancestry as well. So why do I have to label myself as African American? I didn’t come from Africa. I have friends who did come from Africa, took their citizenship test, & became true African-Americans. It makes sense to me. I just don’t feel as if that applies to me. So with Raven, I understand the hesitation to be labeled. Labels are fixed, concrete, one-dimensional. Sometimes the labels don’t fit who we are or who we feel we are.

And if we decide to not be defined by a label, That’s okay.

Who’s Shining That Light In My Eye??

Drawn To...

 

I’m attracted to lights…

Glaring, piercing, shining, sometimes dull low-light but light no less…

Blinding? Sometimes.

Guiding lights? Sometimes.

Light forced through the blackest darkness? Mostly.

Sometimes needing these same lights to get out of the way…blocking my vision

because they can also make it hard to see my own way…

And I need to see my own way.

Asking myself: Should I wear shades?

Nah…

I’d rather see clearly.