IT is fucking 446AM. And I'm up. The past few nights I've been suffering from insomnia. Going to bed when the sun is just rising and the sky starts turning blue. Something about that just puts my mind at ease, and I find myself falling asleep with my face to the window.
This new environment- which really isn't new at all- is getting to me. I stay in an apartment in Brooklyn with family that try their hardest to act like they accept me when I know, lowkey, they're jealous of me, and loathe me being in their atmosphere. I keep to myself, spending hours upon hours on the phone and on my laptop, which thank GOD, I can now use fast, easy WIFI, unlike at that God forsaken college I attend, and it seems as though they even loathe that.
My cousin here... I want to say it. Er, type it. But it feels like as soon as I place my fingers over the appropriate keys my soul breaks a little. My heart beast faster, as though I'm scared, and pain clouds up my eyes. My cousin... he...
I read my blogs I posted previously. And before that, I read the blogs of a genius. She knows who she is. I don't think she realizes how much our brief communication today affected me. To her it may have been light, it could have even been meaningless- just a check up on ol' spitty. But to me... it quenched my heart. It got me to write again, instead of just skyping and tweeting my life away. It made me want to vent. And I thank her for that. You genius, poet, artist, photographer. You already know, I'll drop the L bomb on you just for the impact you had on my life, all with our brief connections.
My cousin... since I was seventeen... he...
Why were all my blogs about FUCKING relationships? Was I really so juvenile? My world evolved around who I was dating, whether my mate was a she or he, how she or he used me, abused me, etc. Like, WHY? Why didn't my mind attempt to release all the other pains I hold inside? Why didn't my mind attempt to talk about being FUCKING HAPPY? Why couldn't I write some imaginary shit that just came to my mind? After all, my imagination is what I love the most about myself. No one knows that. I just confessed it. I love the stories I create in my head. I love how all the ideas for a nice little novella bumrush me all at once. The plot and characters just begging to be thrown into a blank document in Word. Now you know something intimate. Wanna know something else?
My cousin, whom I'm staying with now... he like... does this...
So why did I just write about heartthrob? I was in COLLEGE, surely more was going on? Obviously, I wasn't ready to think about anything else. Such as my future. Where am I going in life? How the FUCK am I going to get out of Miles College, the HELL HOLE that it is? Yeah, I said it. YOU SUCK Miles College. If I can go back in time and go "la lala lalal la" when my homegirl mentioned, I really would, really really loud. I HATE it there. I HATE the authority figures down there that act like they're your DAMN MOMS and I HATE how they abuse their power. I believe in respecting my elders, but there, at Miles College... let's just say I NEVER cussed out so many old people in my life. Who thought it was okay to charge students as much as they do for NO WIFI INTERNET? The LIBRARY for Christ's sake doesn't have working internet. The shit is down every other day! But I chose to go there, and I'm chosing to go back next semester. But best believe, I'm getting my New Yorker Yankee ass the FUCK outta there. Sorry, Mason-Dixon line, but I cannot fuck with below you.
Now... see, now, we're hitting something. I'm getting hot and bothered, and my leg is going numb. I'm hitting sensitive spots that I should have been hitting previously. -mutters- all this LOVE shit. That shit wasn't LOVE! I don't know WHAT that relationship drama was about... but LOVE? No. Baby puppy infatuation with strong sexual attraction. I guess. I wasn't even all that sexually attracted to them, because they were slanging dick. And I, my friends, must not deny my strong attraction to PUSSY.
NO, I am not confused. I know what I want, who I am, what I am, when it comes to dating, fucking, how I dress, my race, all that. I love to love basically. I like dressing like a nigga, but I'm sexy as fuck as a girl. Either way, I can pull. And right now, I like being the female that my mother pushed out of her pussy. So that, I am. Simple. [Judge me. Whatever.] I'm a capricorn, I'm practical, responsible at times, ,and passionate. Endearing, sensitive but aloof when necessary, and sometimes at terrible times. I'm black, east indian, and venezuelan, repping two flags: the Trinidad, and the American flag. I can cook curry channa and potato and fried chicken, even though I hate fried chicken... actually I hate anything fried. If I eat some shit, and it looks like I'm wearing lip gloss by the time I'm done with it, I don't want it.
My leg is getting number. This is what venting is all about.
As you can see from each entry of my blog, I can be very self centered. Whatever. I am a GREAT FUCKING person. So I can write about myself all day and night. What do musicians write about? Zebras? No. Experiences in their lives. How THEY feel or have felt. I love doing that shit.
Okay, now I'm just trying to keep myself off of that God-forsaken topic.
Have you ever had a moment in your life where, although everything seems to be in order, shit just feels upside down? Unorganized, chaotic? Unsolved... Everything is sorted out and normal as hell, but you still feel completely incomplete and lost...
Everything is in place and yet, YOU'RE out of place...
That's how I feel right now.
I don't know who I am anymore.
But I FUCKING love it. Because, like, it gives me a chance to refind myself. To go through all the awkward stages of learning new things about yourself, and loving them. Or finding thing about yourself that you dislike, cross out, and replace.
Well, it's that part of the night/day. When the blue comes out and the clouds try to find out where they fit in. Where the brick buildings of Brooklyn look magenta and maybe even pretty. Looks like it's time fly into my brain with my face towards the window...
and then we can tackle my cousin.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Alone
When you're traveling from Montgomery, Alabama to Fort Lauderdale, FL, via Greyhound, you run into a lot of strange and a lot of interesting people. On this damn near day long trip, I've heard three life stories. One I actually care about, another I kinda could care less about, and the third was just pointless. Point is, the world is made up of so many lost souls, and you barely realize it because you are caught up in yourself and your own crazy world of emotions and misfits.
A man who had two left feet literally, falling because he tripped over the doormat of the station. Three people had to help him out, and he was embarrassed; you could tell by the flush of red all over his face. He later on smoked about five cigarettes. Two at each of the first two stops and one at the last one.
A lady with one arm struggled to hold her coffee and pull her luggage to her terminal. She refused help from anyone who offered, bitterly.
And R. Shawn. A man I met on the bus, who told me he had abandoned everything and everyone back home to completely start over from scratch. He had about $30 in his pocket and buttload of clothes. He didn't want anything to do with anyone back home, or in his family. He had had enough, so he just hopped on the bus and was on his way. As we both discussed any plans he might have had, which he didn't, we both grew more and more worried about his situation. Where was he going to sleep? What was he going to eat? What was the next step for him? -sniffle- I'm getting sick. It was RIDICULOUSLY cold on the bus and bus driver refused to put on the heat. Douchebag. Anyways, I offered R as much advice as I possible could, but I had no idea what to do or what I could do to help him. I myself only had $3 on me. I let him charge his cell phone on my laptop and tried my best to talk to him and calm him down. I ended up worrying about him all night. I pray for him, and I hope he's okay. The thought of him sleeping on a bench or something kills me.
He's all alone. Just like I thought I was, but here I am, with my two cousins in Florida, surrounded by palm trees and white buildings and a view of Hollywood, FL. Who am I to bitch and moan and be an alcoholic? This young man, as sweet as he was, found himself in a no way out situation and had to leave. He is alone.
These people changed my life.
A man who had two left feet literally, falling because he tripped over the doormat of the station. Three people had to help him out, and he was embarrassed; you could tell by the flush of red all over his face. He later on smoked about five cigarettes. Two at each of the first two stops and one at the last one.
A lady with one arm struggled to hold her coffee and pull her luggage to her terminal. She refused help from anyone who offered, bitterly.
And R. Shawn. A man I met on the bus, who told me he had abandoned everything and everyone back home to completely start over from scratch. He had about $30 in his pocket and buttload of clothes. He didn't want anything to do with anyone back home, or in his family. He had had enough, so he just hopped on the bus and was on his way. As we both discussed any plans he might have had, which he didn't, we both grew more and more worried about his situation. Where was he going to sleep? What was he going to eat? What was the next step for him? -sniffle- I'm getting sick. It was RIDICULOUSLY cold on the bus and bus driver refused to put on the heat. Douchebag. Anyways, I offered R as much advice as I possible could, but I had no idea what to do or what I could do to help him. I myself only had $3 on me. I let him charge his cell phone on my laptop and tried my best to talk to him and calm him down. I ended up worrying about him all night. I pray for him, and I hope he's okay. The thought of him sleeping on a bench or something kills me.
He's all alone. Just like I thought I was, but here I am, with my two cousins in Florida, surrounded by palm trees and white buildings and a view of Hollywood, FL. Who am I to bitch and moan and be an alcoholic? This young man, as sweet as he was, found himself in a no way out situation and had to leave. He is alone.
These people changed my life.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
halloween.
Halloween
there's a hundred and one secrets that I keep tangled inside me; things like 102607 one of the best days of my life... the way I was held, the way we argued- the reason why I don't live with my father, biological father, or mom- see no one knows me inside and out, not even my own brother. and as unfortunate as it is the only person who does know me entirely is only because I seem to be the identical generation-x version of her. this is NOT on purpose. secrets always come to light, I suppose but I don't think im ready for that. so until then, I'm sweeping up these skeletons that attempted to topple out when I opened my closet door- and shoving them back where they were dislodged from. I want to spare myself life-ache in the end.
"now it's hardly simple, it's jst simply hard... I find myself not being myself to avoid all the confrontation." -so simple; alicia keys.
who am I?
there's a hundred and one secrets that I keep tangled inside me; things like 102607 one of the best days of my life... the way I was held, the way we argued- the reason why I don't live with my father, biological father, or mom- see no one knows me inside and out, not even my own brother. and as unfortunate as it is the only person who does know me entirely is only because I seem to be the identical generation-x version of her. this is NOT on purpose. secrets always come to light, I suppose but I don't think im ready for that. so until then, I'm sweeping up these skeletons that attempted to topple out when I opened my closet door- and shoving them back where they were dislodged from. I want to spare myself life-ache in the end.
"now it's hardly simple, it's jst simply hard... I find myself not being myself to avoid all the confrontation." -so simple; alicia keys.
who am I?
Monday, October 19, 2009
8am.
in the car, driving back to birmingham, alabama from montgomery. montgomery looks like catskill, ny. it was okay for the most part, excluding the account mentioned in my previous blog. listening to this track that I hear over and over in practice because it's playing in my scene (for the fashion show).
let's NOT talk about the fashion right now tho. that'll jst fck up my mood. the sun is hitting the car in an angle that allows it to hit my cheek and warm it up on this extremely cold day. it feels great. doing 90 on whatever highway this is, watching the trees and exit signs whizz by gives me this feeling... it allows me to pretend I'm home if only for a moment.. driving from white plains to danbury.. or white plains to new rochelle.. I just want to go home.
this weekend I smoked and the amount of things I've done that are all in all productive add up to 0. and I like it like that. not quite a "vacation" but a "getaway" none the less.
now I'm on my return to Miles.. wait, lemme not capitalize- miles college, a school smack dab in the middle of the hood. no one wants to walk off campus after 930 pm unless it's from Pearson Hall to their dorm or to "the square", an area on the yard with benches in the shape of a square. students- and even non-students- like to sit out there all hours of the night joking on eachother, other people, smoking, anything. it all goes down "in the square". the square lost it's luster after the second week of school. I walk past it, waving at the kids that sit there all day. I have better things to do.
the education and all around living situation of the school isn't worth the cost. there's no internet in the dorm rooms. bass hall has internet but it's very slow and goes out constantly. the learning resource center has internet as well, but it's even slower, taking years just to get to google. there are very few computer's available in the LRC, and the fact that you have to take your hat off takes away whatever desire you have to go in there anyway. which isn't much to begin with.
the classes are sloooow. so slow that I can fall asleep and miss nothing. I can NOT go and miss nothing. so I don't go. and pass. I'm on my way to transferring outta here. promise.
let's NOT talk about the fashion right now tho. that'll jst fck up my mood. the sun is hitting the car in an angle that allows it to hit my cheek and warm it up on this extremely cold day. it feels great. doing 90 on whatever highway this is, watching the trees and exit signs whizz by gives me this feeling... it allows me to pretend I'm home if only for a moment.. driving from white plains to danbury.. or white plains to new rochelle.. I just want to go home.
this weekend I smoked and the amount of things I've done that are all in all productive add up to 0. and I like it like that. not quite a "vacation" but a "getaway" none the less.
now I'm on my return to Miles.. wait, lemme not capitalize- miles college, a school smack dab in the middle of the hood. no one wants to walk off campus after 930 pm unless it's from Pearson Hall to their dorm or to "the square", an area on the yard with benches in the shape of a square. students- and even non-students- like to sit out there all hours of the night joking on eachother, other people, smoking, anything. it all goes down "in the square". the square lost it's luster after the second week of school. I walk past it, waving at the kids that sit there all day. I have better things to do.
the education and all around living situation of the school isn't worth the cost. there's no internet in the dorm rooms. bass hall has internet but it's very slow and goes out constantly. the learning resource center has internet as well, but it's even slower, taking years just to get to google. there are very few computer's available in the LRC, and the fact that you have to take your hat off takes away whatever desire you have to go in there anyway. which isn't much to begin with.
the classes are sloooow. so slow that I can fall asleep and miss nothing. I can NOT go and miss nothing. so I don't go. and pass. I'm on my way to transferring outta here. promise.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
montgomery.
riding through montgomery, alabama texting exes & wishin I was sexin, aooow. just playing. I feel like this was a terrible weekend to come down here. there was too much going on, my homegirl was doing too much.
it began with me chillin in bass (a residence hall in the beautiful campus of miles college [sarcasm] residing smack dab in the middle of some projects in fairfield, alabama) with my homegirl who came down here frm not-to-far-from-me, new york. she told me a friend of mine frm campus was tryna get ahold of me. she passed me her phone and told me to say hello.
"hello?"
"you're going home with me this wknd, bitch. go pack. you got fifteen minutes."
so I go back to the room and pack my shit. now she TOLD me to come with her to her house in montgomery. so I go.
we go to her uncle's house, meet up with her "bae", smoke, and then leave. we chill for a while, meet up with another friend, smoke, chill. & then she tells me she's gonnor stay with "Klint?"
well, I don't fckin know "Klint", so of course I'm gonna go with her. Bad fucking idea.
I'm sittin in this bitch's living room while my homie and her are fckin in the back. the movie they got me watching starts skipping and playing the same part over and over and over. I can't stop it, pause it, reverse it, fast forward it, nothing. so I start punching it. frustrated, I text my homegirl to "come fix this fckin tv." her bitch skitters out still pulling her shirt over her head and asks me what I wanna watch. I swore I told her "transformers 2" but end up watching "transporter 3". deaf scallywag.
the movie doesn't have enough fighting scenes. every dialogue is drowned out with loud moans from the back. my phone is dying and the charger doesn't work so I'm frustrated. I've been sitting on this couch for two fckin hours. bitch better come on.
when my homie comes out the room, I wanna kick her ass.
the next night.
we smoke. but I'm starting to feel more and more like this was the most wrong wknd to come EVER. we're informed of a smoking party where you bring an L & it's matched up. sounds heavenly to me. I'm planning on going back on my non-smoking mission when I return to campus; this is a "vacation". however, none of us have money, so the party is out. and walah, my homie has to go get cuddy again. (if I sound jealous, it could be because I am a tiny tiny teeny bit. believe me, after seeing the bitch, I am NOT that jealous.) she doesn't kno what to do with me again, so she has her "bae" babysit me. me & him end up going to the smoke party which is an all gay male event. they dance, I watch (I'm the most masculine person in the room) and we leave. no bud.
we drive around a little to kill time & then go back to get my homegirl. I told her to sanitize her fckin hands before she touches me. no dap, nigga.
day three, I'm awakened by my homegirl's
I'm evil as fck in the morning. we get dressed, go to church, etc. not too bad. then she's informed of some sort of "family" meeting. guess what... not family? can't go. once again.. I need to be babysat. wonder what they're gonna do with me tonite!
I don't mean to sound like I'm immature, bitchy, whiney, whatever. I'm aware I'm jst straight up complaining. but fck it. I don't care about your opinion to be quite frank. lol. seriously. avoi...
btw; remind you tell you abt miles. LORD do I have to tell you about this school.
it began with me chillin in bass (a residence hall in the beautiful campus of miles college [sarcasm] residing smack dab in the middle of some projects in fairfield, alabama) with my homegirl who came down here frm not-to-far-from-me, new york. she told me a friend of mine frm campus was tryna get ahold of me. she passed me her phone and told me to say hello.
"hello?"
"you're going home with me this wknd, bitch. go pack. you got fifteen minutes."
so I go back to the room and pack my shit. now she TOLD me to come with her to her house in montgomery. so I go.
we go to her uncle's house, meet up with her "bae", smoke, and then leave. we chill for a while, meet up with another friend, smoke, chill. & then she tells me she's gonnor stay with "Klint?"
well, I don't fckin know "Klint", so of course I'm gonna go with her. Bad fucking idea.
I'm sittin in this bitch's living room while my homie and her are fckin in the back. the movie they got me watching starts skipping and playing the same part over and over and over. I can't stop it, pause it, reverse it, fast forward it, nothing. so I start punching it. frustrated, I text my homegirl to "come fix this fckin tv." her bitch skitters out still pulling her shirt over her head and asks me what I wanna watch. I swore I told her "transformers 2" but end up watching "transporter 3". deaf scallywag.
the movie doesn't have enough fighting scenes. every dialogue is drowned out with loud moans from the back. my phone is dying and the charger doesn't work so I'm frustrated. I've been sitting on this couch for two fckin hours. bitch better come on.
when my homie comes out the room, I wanna kick her ass.
the next night.
we smoke. but I'm starting to feel more and more like this was the most wrong wknd to come EVER. we're informed of a smoking party where you bring an L & it's matched up. sounds heavenly to me. I'm planning on going back on my non-smoking mission when I return to campus; this is a "vacation". however, none of us have money, so the party is out. and walah, my homie has to go get cuddy again. (if I sound jealous, it could be because I am a tiny tiny teeny bit. believe me, after seeing the bitch, I am NOT that jealous.) she doesn't kno what to do with me again, so she has her "bae" babysit me. me & him end up going to the smoke party which is an all gay male event. they dance, I watch (I'm the most masculine person in the room) and we leave. no bud.
we drive around a little to kill time & then go back to get my homegirl. I told her to sanitize her fckin hands before she touches me. no dap, nigga.
day three, I'm awakened by my homegirl's
I'm evil as fck in the morning. we get dressed, go to church, etc. not too bad. then she's informed of some sort of "family" meeting. guess what... not family? can't go. once again.. I need to be babysat. wonder what they're gonna do with me tonite!
I don't mean to sound like I'm immature, bitchy, whiney, whatever. I'm aware I'm jst straight up complaining. but fck it. I don't care about your opinion to be quite frank. lol. seriously. avoi...
btw; remind you tell you abt miles. LORD do I have to tell you about this school.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Going
Real Chance of Love, Daisy of Love, Rock of Love, Whatever of Love are all stupid. I don't understand why I find myself on the couch, glued to VH1, watching all of this bullshit. Well, I admit, I watch Real Chance of Love because Risky is sexy as hell. I followed her into Charm School and watch her beautiful transformation, along with Bay Bay Bay's bigheaded ass. Everything else is bullshit. Bullshit that keeps my eyes glued and ready sit in the exact same spot, same time next week. What is it about bullshit fake drama that keeps people stuck? Sure there are people out there that refuse to watch bullshit TV and actually keep good on it. But what about the people like me, that resent the fact that this shit is on but still find ourselves watching it, sometimes even turning to the channel 5 mins early for the recap of last weeks even though we've seen last weeks? Actually, that's just sad. I only do that when I'm bored. (Or for the sake of my rep, NEVER. lol) I really wonder this shit.
Anyways, I didn't mean for this blog to ramble about bullshit television. I'm feeling some type of way about moving to Alabama. I hate relocating. I hate new shit. I hate change until it's already taken place and is no longer change- so I guess that just means I hate change. I don't like new situations. As a twenty-one year old, I know I'm too old for this shit, but I can't help it. I'm not excited to be away from my hometown, my homeSTATE, my best friends, my pseudofamily; I don't want to leave. I'm not excited to be in a new state in the South surrounded by people I don't know as well as people I'm not used to. The only thing I'm really excited about to be quite honest is the groupies and getting my education- also immature, but I mean, it's me, Spit. What do you expect?
I guess I could say I'm nervous and full of anxiety. What about my room? Do I have a ride from the airport? Are they going to do my financial aid right? etc, etc. I want to avoid drama as much as possible but I know it's going to follow me.. drama is there everywhere you go.
I'm distracted, I'll write more later.
Anyways, I didn't mean for this blog to ramble about bullshit television. I'm feeling some type of way about moving to Alabama. I hate relocating. I hate new shit. I hate change until it's already taken place and is no longer change- so I guess that just means I hate change. I don't like new situations. As a twenty-one year old, I know I'm too old for this shit, but I can't help it. I'm not excited to be away from my hometown, my homeSTATE, my best friends, my pseudofamily; I don't want to leave. I'm not excited to be in a new state in the South surrounded by people I don't know as well as people I'm not used to. The only thing I'm really excited about to be quite honest is the groupies and getting my education- also immature, but I mean, it's me, Spit. What do you expect?
I guess I could say I'm nervous and full of anxiety. What about my room? Do I have a ride from the airport? Are they going to do my financial aid right? etc, etc. I want to avoid drama as much as possible but I know it's going to follow me.. drama is there everywhere you go.
I'm distracted, I'll write more later.
Friday, July 17, 2009
2.5
Okay, so is it bad that I have two in one day? Is it ursty? I don't know, I just... I really want to write a poem but I have the worst writer's block ever..
I'm anxious, I have the worst anxiety. It kills me sometimes. My mind is just running.. It's like a bad game of kickball. Just running and running and running and running. Like can someone catch an OUT!? Jesus!
I'm so frustrated. I'm trying not to think of her because she's doing a damn good job not thinking about me. I don't know, yo.
Time for Spitty to stop being a pussy.
I'm anxious, I have the worst anxiety. It kills me sometimes. My mind is just running.. It's like a bad game of kickball. Just running and running and running and running. Like can someone catch an OUT!? Jesus!
I'm so frustrated. I'm trying not to think of her because she's doing a damn good job not thinking about me. I don't know, yo.
Time for Spitty to stop being a pussy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
