oh silly girl

this morning i heard my alarm go off – i glared at it, squinted at it, pushed snooze, fought with myself, threw an arm out from under the covers, spent about ten minutes in this battle with myself. it wasn’t yet 5 am. when i got out of bed i did some early morning math and figured i needed to walk out of the house in no less than half an hour. might as well take a shower. oh god that’s warm. i just want to stand here…that’s me, thinking and leaning into the hot water for at least 5 minutes too long. then coming out i decided i should change all the bags i had packed to a different set of bags. and grab my vitamins. and spend another 5 minutes literally standing confused and half dressed in the middle of the room. i rushed out, now ten minutes later than no-less-than time. i realized then it was bad math, and i need at least ten more minutes to do this comfortable. but no use getting troubled, that will only make me clumsy. i get to the c train, got, whatever grammar it was is then, and sat reading octavia butler while precious minutes slipped between the tracks, until at least twenty had come and gone. finally, an a train comes, cause its not yet 6 am, and its the one to the airport. this might just save me…i thought zen thoughts, i moved briskly but not breakneck cause experience has proven (literally) that i am more likely to sprain an ankle or fall on my face than make it quickly. not to mention that the baths + personal trainer + fire yoga + dancing + om yoga (LEAH IT WAS SOOOOOOOO GOOOOOOD) has my thigh muscles and hip flexors screaming for mercy…i got to the jetblue desk and tried my usual:

HI!! i am running a little late…
what flight?
new orleans!
the 7:15?
do you realize it’s 7am now ma’am?
no way! the train was…well – can i run through?
no. it’s closed.
i can’t run? i have no bags to check.
yeah but its closed.
if you rush me through security maybe…
ma’am its 10 minutes till it takes off. the doors? of the plane? they are closed.

(i know that tone. i use it with people i think need the old kindergarten try.)

when’s the next flight?
let’s see – that’ll be 2:15 ma’am!
that’s 7 hours from now.
yes ma’am. i can pre-check you through now, you can’t check in till four hours before.
is there wireless?

and that, my friends, is how i came to be sitting here with four hours left on my wait for the afternoon flight to new orleans.

there is an insane and beautiful 5 year old next to me. his mother seems mostly shocked at his behavior and he ignores her – not maliciously, just completely. so far i have watched him run into 17 people and break two people’s plastic utensils which they were about to eat with and didn’t see him creep up. his mother, check that, she just told me she’s his grandmother – is this decked out black woman – a thong flasher.

one funny aspect is watching the judgement ooze from the white family next to us, who have their wild ones in matching harry potter stripes on leashes. there is also a set of hasidic badasses running around with their little yarmulkes on while their daddy’s curls flow back from his face. apparently ‘brat’ is a universal language!

the grandma just told me he acts like this ’cause his white momma don’t know to train him. he only listen to his dad, his dad in texas and make him cry, i’m right here but he don’t listen. that’s bad training. i would beat his little ass.’

last night i was sitting with one of my favorite mamas in the world while she contemplated variations on discipline, what works, what doesn’t, what she won’t do. her kid is hovering on a cloud compared to what i am seeing here, but overall i am sooo convinced i am not having babies till i find a stay at home writer-papa.

update – i left this blog and did some other stuff and now me and the grandma are best buddies and the kid troy – we’re working it out – he is so cute! omg! he just came over with big wet eyes (long crying phone convo with his dad) and told me that his dad is in texas and that’s where he is going but he is ‘not really’ excited because ‘he is going to give me a really big spanking with a belt.’

i let him cry on my shoulder.

grandma said she doesn’t want him spanked, just sometimes ‘what is a woman to do?’

thank god i have tons of backed up work to do, because the perky jetblue folks just told me i am only on standby, so i may wait here all day and still not get a flight. i am thinking back to the battle in bed. to that hot water over my scalp. curse this fresh feeling.

OUCH!! the most severe cameltoe i’ve ever seen just walked by. i still haven’t mastered my sidekick to get it fast enough to get a picture. GROSS. how embarrassing for the crotch height children.

this isn’t even what i wanted to write about, i wanted to write about how lately a lot of people, including some close friends, have been asking me for advice on ways to compromise with being miserable. i am just not the right person to ask.

i think people feel that because i am a broke pleasure activist, that i am casting judgement on whatever they do. on some level, i’m sure i am, instinct…but on most levels, live and let live. i do what i do because it makes me happy and i am good at it. i am mostly past the naive beliefs i once had, that mine was somehow a noble career. its grimy, its part of the balance, so far its part of the non-profit industrial complex, and its beholden to the same dynamics as any other career in this capitalist imperialist racist patriarchal system. everyone i talk to in every field is facing the same shit, complaint gets cyclical – its about finding good work to do and good people to do with it.

my goal in life is not that every one does what i do, its that everyone find joy and uplift those around them in whatever they do. do what you are meant to do and find real satisfaction in it, be the best at it that you can possibly be.

as with most things i say, this is all in my self interest. i hate watching brilliant minds overcome by bitterness, people who think that some outside forces are converging to make them miserable. especially when its people whose existence brings me such joy. i hate when i get stuck in that rut. when i look outside myself for answers, for backbone, i only ever feel lost and spun around. then i put that energy into the world and it manifests. when other folks bring me their self-imposed broken dreams, it’s hard to shake off, i find myself speaking with a bitter tongue, the hater in me comes to the surface.

my boy bryant keeps affirmations all over his house. i used to go over and see them and in my little virgo head i’d be all: ‘who needs those, just do what you’re going to do!’ but more and more i am thinking this type of thing is necessary, some little hooks for the soundtrack in your head, which lift you up to where you are meant to be, wherever that is. homework for the week, put something up in a private place in your home that reminds you of your dreams.

my sister april quotes steve prefountain to me, ‘i don’t run to see who is fastest, i run to see who has the most guts.’

how’s that for californication? at least i am laughing at myself every yogic chakra’d step of the way 🙂

that’s what i meant to write about.