Pinky and the Brain

The wrong word

Spoken to the wrong person

Can hurt the most

The wrong look

At the wrong time

Can hurt the most

The little lie

At the worst time

Can hurt the most

The silent slight

In open space

Does hurt the most

Without You

Finally

Finally passing
Finally moved
From the forefront
To a corner instead

Almost gone
But not quite
Watching and waiting
With minor fright

Without you

Team Jacob

I did not watch the 2013 Miss America pageant.  I happened to pass it on t.v. for a few minutes while channel surfing, however, it was not long enough to take in all the contestants.  So when I first heard an Indian-American won, I (sarcastically) wondered if the winner was Native American or actually Indian-American.  Turns out in this instance, she was actually of Indian (roots from the country India) descent.  Cheers to Nina Davuluri!

What does that have to do with the price of tea in France? You ask.  Well, all too often, I read or hear someone refer to an Indian or Indian-American when the person referred to is of Native American heritage.  When I attempt to recommend a change in the reference, I have been told, well "you know what I'm talking about."  No, actually, I don't.  I don't know.  If I hear Indian, I think of India.  Is there two Indias?  Why are we still perpetrating Christopher Columbus's mistake by using Indian to describe people who's heritage is native to America?  And I recognize that many Native American created websites, articles, books, and what not also use the Indian reference.  I am not saying the use is somehow insulting, in and of itself, but it seems archaic.

As for me, when referencing part of my heritage, I prefer Native American.

Tears Always Win

Agape deep love

Tugging at my heart

Filling up my mind

Because we are apart

Close in distance 

Distant in life

Something changed

Now pain and strife 

Agape deep love 

Pushing it away 

Wall of shallow

With each new day

Talking to the Moon

The Best Option I Don't Have

Quiet
Reserved
Understated
and Kind

A laugh that makes you smile
A smile that warms your heart
A heart that reflects love
A love that is

A Man's Requirements

I have had a few blog post ideas over the past couple of weeks.  However, when I go to write them, it just doesn't seem like what needs to be shared at the time.  So in lieu of an original piece from me, I am sharing a poem from one of my favorite poets, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Enjoy!

A Man's Requirements

I

Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.

II

Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.

III

Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest grantings;
Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven's truth be wanting?

IV

Love me with their lids, that fall
Snow-like at first meeting;
Love me with thine heart, that all
Neighbours then see beating.

V

Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely -- open-minded:
Love me with thy loitering foot, --
Hearing one behind it.

VI

Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;
Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur 'Love me!'

VII

Love me with thy thinking soul,
Break it to love-sighing;
Love me with thy thoughts that roll
On through living -- dying.

VIII

Love me in thy gorgeous airs,
When the world has crowned thee;
Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,
With the angels round thee.

IX

Love me pure, as muses do,
Up the woodlands shady:
Love me gaily, fast and true,
As a winsome lady.

X

Through all hopes that keep us brave,
Farther off or nigher,
Love me for the house and grave,
And for something higher.

XI

Thus, if thou wilt prove me, Dear,
Woman's love no fable,
I will love thee -- half a year --
As a man is able. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He Still Loves Me

Small, scared, confused
Him, child & a teddy bear
Salvation

Quirky, clear, spirit-lead
Him, teen & a pew
Obedience

Stoic, puzzled, hurt
Him, girl & a boy
Forgiveness

Willing, ready, excited
Him, her & a friend
Fellowship

Graduate, scared, anxious
Him, her & a song
Faith

Fallen, desired, sorry
Him, her & a dream
Humility

Loved, protected, forgiven
Him & her
Always

Rizzoli & Isles

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." At least, that's what people usually say. I say "Hell hath no fury like the FRIEND of a woman scorned." Now that's who is the real threat. My close friends and I have each others back. It's Girl Code, Girl/Guy Code, all the Codes. Rock it or die. (Joke)

A person can do a lot to me. I will forgive and make sure that the person is ok, more than myself. I never want anyone to feel bad in connection to something to do with me. I just feel too guilty if they do. I don't know why. I've just been that way my whole life. My friends even question my sanity time and time again for giving some people repeated chances. It just seems right. However, the "switch" is completely different if a person is malicious or hurtful to one of my friends. (Must be the attorney-advocate side of me.). I have no problem letting the perpetrator know just how wrong they are.

Of course I have a "for instance". I have multiple, but I won't include them all here. So one guy, we'll call him Naw (as in Naw dude, you suck!) had the audacity to speak very rudely to my friend. We'll call my friend Mel. Eventually Mel and I saw Naw after this rude encounter. He thought (for only a second) he could act like everything was cool. He especially thought he and I were cool. You know since I was not the one he was rude to. (What world is he living in?) I nipped that in the bud quickly. My message was received. (no details needed here) And he understood, if he were to speak to Mel at some point later, an apology was in order. The apology did come.

One more, just for kicks. (Although outside the boundaries of my time in Chicago) In college I was at a party with friends. We were in the usual spot (on the dance floor) doing our thing. I hear my friend's excited utterance as the guy she was dancing with (call him Dick) touched her inappropriately. Well, I have very quick reflexes. I grabbed Dick's wrist and pushed him off my friend with lightening speed. I dared him to try something and added a few other things. (Don't try this at home. I've always been a little too bold with the male species than recommended for safety. But hey, don't mess with my friends and I won't mess with you.). He was shocked, but got the message.

Likewise, my dear friends have my back. Male and female. I absolutely love them for it. I usually have to talk them out of going to extremes for me (when I can), but it makes for great friendship. Oh the stories I could tell. Another day, another blog maybe.

Today's message: The friend is mightier than the sword. :-)

Mean Girls

Scared
Wanting to escape
Can't stop the bullying
Can't stop the hate

Hold on
Be strong
It's not you
They are wrong

You are unique
You are different
You are special
Not a detriment

Keep your eyes up
Hold your head high
Don't let them take away
Don't say goodbye

This life is worth more
Than the harsh words you hear
There's much more to live
The future is near

There is love
There is light
Fight the pain
You'll be alright 

I Dream of Jeannie

Dreamland

I think I dreamed it
Just a second
It was real
But it wasn't

No one pinched me
I just know
Dreamland no more
I'm shutting the door

Apologize

Dear Me:

I forgive you for not meeting all of our expectations.  Life is about the journey, and it's been a good journey. It's okay that we weren't always perfect.  It's okay that you skipped "nerd camp" to go to cheer-leading camp.  Even if you opted for sports over cheering later in life.  You are a cheerleader for your friends and family.  Cheer camp was worth every minute of that.  

I forgive you for not acing every college class.  You had fun and learned.  You graduated and got the same BA as those who got better and worse grades.  You enjoyed the journey.

I forgive you for putting up walls most our life.  And I forgive you for letting those walls down.  You have learned more about the human spirit and are still learning every day.  

I forgive you for being vulnerable, even if only a few understand what that means.  God loves you the same. Our vulnerability teaches us the value of the tongue.   

I forgive you for the mistakes you've made.  They help us be more humble.  

Most importantly, I forgive you, because we are not better than God.  He forgave all, so that we may live.

I forgive you.

Sincerely,

Broken but Blessed

My Sister's Keeper

Creating

A

Never

Changing

Erroneous

Rage

Drumline

Like drums
in a parade.
I hear the beat
As steady as waves.

Like the pitter-patter
of the rain.
I feel it pour out
happiness and pain.

Look!
It's there.
Sitting and waiting
For you to get here.

It's open to you
Open to it.
With His guide
We can fit.

The Beat Goes On

Sound
Thought
Expression
Effect

Thud
Doubt
Whence
Lurch

More Than Words

The way  you look
The wink you give
Makes me know
You want to be here.

Here in the present
With me today
Laughing and talking
In our special way.

Special is how I feel
Special is what you give
The words you express
Enhance how I live.

I live with more joy
I live with peace
Looking forward to the day
Our hearts meet.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off

My day started at 4:30 a.m. with my own version of Ferris Bueller's Day Off in mind.  While I didn't have Cameron and Sloane by my side, I had Jan and Mila.  And it was definitely a different day than my usual.  But before I provide the details, here's my report card of the day.

Horseland - A
Smurfs on pre-rally crowd opening - F
Smurfs on rally patrol - D
Smurfs on parade route partrol - B+
Fraggles at the pre-rally waiting area - B-
Fraggles at the rally - C
Fraggles at the parade - A
Bring It On Boys - B+ (purely because of my coaching abilities)
Bring It On Girls - A- (They screwed the dismount the first time)

So we got to the rally area bright and early this morning.  A few hundred people, possibly a thousand were in and around the area.  We eventually made our way to the front barricade area, so that we could be one of the first 100 in.  Oh, how wrong we were!  It was pure madness when people had to enter via jumping over or crawling under double blue barricades.  (Bad planning!!!).  This madness only got worse once I moved around (refused to climb or crawl) a barricade and attempted to walk with the crowd to enter Grant Park.  People were pushing and shoving like it was Walmart on Black Friday.

My friends and I made it safely past the "bag security" check (note: this was a farce) and walked the long walk to the stage at Hutchinson Field.  While we walked, hundreds, maybe thousands, of people ran past us.  At this point we were resigned to just finding a good spot to hear the players live, see them on the Jumbo-tron and possibly catch slight glimpses at the stage.

We put our blankets down and prepared to wait.  We were quickly joined by other friends and continued our wait with fun people around us.  Until . . .

A fight broke out right in front of us, beside us, and then behind us.  At this point, I was standing holding all my stuff.  Imagine flip flops under my arms.  All the while watching these guys fight without official intervention.  (That's the short version of what really happened).  As a result of the fight, lack of clear view, sun beating down on us, and general madness all around, my two friends decided we should leave.  I agreed with this decision because we all know, people in the Chi like to retaliate with bullets.  And I definitely did not have time for that.

We found a great spot to watch the parade right outside the rally area.  And two guys kindly let Mila and I in front of them.  This provided an even better view for us to see the Blackhawks and the Stanley Cup.  After all, that is what we were there to see.  The people around us were fun and friendly and a much better trade off from the rowdy peeps inside the rally.  We were joined by others who also left the rally.

We chose a great position that allowed me to see Toews with the Cup!  Yes, I saw Jonathan Toews with the Stanley Cup.  Made my day.  It was all worth it, at that point!  Even if I did get a crappy pic of him lifting the cup.  The memory is in my head forever.  (or as long as my long-term memory lasts).  Our parade location position also allowed us to get out, back into the downtown loop area, relatively easy.  We saw some people

trying to knock down a tall gate put up around another field in Grant Park on the way.  I wish more Chicagoans could show how to have a classy celebration.  I guess I can't have it all my way.  The red horse had plenty of seats and provided for a smooth ride north.  By the end, I think I clocked 7+ hours in the sun and lots of pics to remember the day.

Behind The Smile

Behind the smile

Lies hurt and pain

Fear and doubt

Take over again

The eyes twinkle

But they still cry

Inside they drip

No one knows why

The cheeks are rosy

Just like the heart

Beating in agony

As things fall apart

Life is happening

And all the while

She hides her thoughts

Behind the smile 

Not quite Howie Mandel . . .

I want what I want when I want it!

In my early life, I generally got what I wanted, when I wanted it.  Let's be honest, I wasn't asking for the moon and stars.  It usually involved a teddy bear or jewelry.  Shocker!  But I quickly learned what steps I needed to take to get what I wanted in life.  Or my super nice and super gracious parents rewarded me for my good behavior and hard work for my birthday, Christmas, or "Just Because". "Just Because" rewards are awesome! (side note:  I love my parents bunches.  The fact that they spoiled me is just bonus!)

As a person with OCD (read: Obsessive Control Disorder) [Yes, I know what it really stands for.] this general scheme of operating worked for me.  My actions controlled what I got.  Simple.  But as I've gotten older, this isn't as easy of a scheme as I'd like.  Now I don't control everything.  If I did, this world would be so much better.  (But that's info for another blog.)  I can't come up with an iron-clad plan for getting the next "whatever" I want.  Some of those "whatevers" are controlled by someone else.  Boo-hiss.  If that person is competent and sensible, I still get what I want.  So, I mean, that's okay.  I guess.  But when they operate and decide differently than I, it sends my OCD into overdrive.  This is compounded by the fact that I hate losing anything, let alone control (for lack of a better word) in more than one area of my life at a time.  Then I'm in full OCD Overload Mode.

This mode is scary!  Even for me.  I've developed my own coping skills.  Why my own, you ask?  Mainly because I've never actually seen a professional for this diagnosis.  [disclaimer:  You should see a professional for any real diagnosis or mental health issue.]   I digress.  When I'm in OCD Overload Mode, I become frustrated a lot easier, I eat more crap, and I vent to my friends even more than normal.

So in a nutshell, lately I've been an irritable, fatty, blabbermouth. :)  The end!

. . .but you can still touch me.  I mean, if I give you permission.

Run Forrest Run!

I Run

I run.

I run to get away

I run to make a way

For my body to express

The words left unsaid.

I run to feel my body

I run to be somebody

Who stretches and believes

I will get what I need.

I run to be new

I run to renew

My mind and my spirit

Listen can you hear it?

I run to be

I run to see

I run for me

I run and I am free

I run!

Mother's Day: May 10, 1998

I wrote this in May 2009.  It was the first time that Mother's Day was on May 10, since the event of this poem.  Since it's May 10th and Mother's Day weekend, I wanted to share here on my blog.

Mother’s Day: May 10, 1998

I remember the blood
I remember the fright
I remember waking up
In the middle of the night

It was 3 AM
It was screaming in the hall
It was the worst Mother’s Day
The worst of them all

It made me sad
It made me cry
It made me wish
She didn’t have to die

We watched her die
We watched her close her eyes
We watched them take her away
And we prayed for everyone’s lives

All that time her blood poured out
All that time for the ambulance to arrive
All that time and they didn’t come
To save the girl; keep her alive

Monday at school they talked about it
Monday at school I wasn’t perfect and didn’t care
Monday at school I got sick and left;
Went home and faced the stairs

Every day I remembered the blood
Every Mother’s Day I remember them
Every time I see a fight
I pray it doesn’t turn out as grim

Two new mothers on Mother’s Day
Two girls in a stupid fight
Two babies at home asleep
More than one life was changed that night

A lot was said
A lot was done
A lot was seen
But who won?

Grey's Anatomy

The Cure

Hit your knees

Say the words

Wait and see

It all works

Eyes lock

In open space

A twinkle or smile

A happy place

The invitation

The expectation

A good time

And first embrace

A broken record

You don’t care

It’s a soft comfort

Always there

Hit your knees

Say the words

Smile and know

It did work

Humpty Dumpty

Broken

I didn’t know

The pull of love

Until

It pulled me down

I didn’t feel

The pain of loss

Until

Pain I found

I didn’t want

The tears to come

But

Tears, they did fall

I didn’t want

My heart to break

But

It’s broken, soul and all

Pretty in Pink

I grew up in the 80's and 90's loving John Hughes movies like everyone else.  But unlike many other girls my age, I was not obsessed with pink.  I was obsessed with being perfect.  I've tried to figure out where this perfection need came from, without much success.

I'm sure it does not surprise you to find out that I'm NOT perfect.  And while I made great strides and had generally great successes in most things, there are two areas where perfection was (and is still) hard to attain.  The one I'll discuss here is my inability to judge male romantic (for lack of a better word) opinions about me.  Oh, I'm great at dictating the love lives of strangers and friends.  I can detect and ascertain how many different types of people feel about one another.  However, when it comes to me. . .it is a sad state of affairs.

I've hoped that over the years I've learned and grown from past mishaps in this area.  I'm not an idiot.  I know when the super cheesy dude is hitting on me.  I'm talking about the "real possibility" interest here.  I never know when I'm "just one of the guys" or "potential interest".  Men have told me years later of their past interest in me.  While flattering, it doesn't help.  Why didn't these men ask me out?  There have been a few explanations given.  But nothing definitive.  You know "I thought you were interested in someone else", or "I liked a bunch of girls at the same time, I didn't know who to choose", or the best of them all "I didn't want to ruin our great friendship."  I don't know about you, but I'd love the guy I date and eventually marry to be someone I have a great friendship with.  Haven't they seen "Some Kind of Wonderful"?  I guess that's why I have this blog.  So that some type of enjoyment can come out of my dating mishaps and missed snaps. :)

Raise your glasses, cheers to more blogging and a John Hughes ending at some time in my future.

(Note:  This post was much funnier in my head before I started writing.  Then as I wrote, it just seemed blah.  Oh well, here it is anyway.)

Heal

One shining moment

Dulled by time

Patience is a virtue

But no virtue of mine

I took what I wanted

I used it at will

Now bruised and battered

I hope it will heal

My future is unfolding

Change is a must

Flowing in slow motion

Afraid I will bust

I had what I wanted

I called it at will

Left bruised and battered

I pray it will heal

Dusk turns to morning

Sun lights the day

My mind starts to wander

I’ve said all I can say

I hate what I wanted

I caved to my will

Hurt, bruised, and battered

My God, let it heal!

Act Like a Man and be a Man

It's high time, I post again.  Don't you think?  No? Oh well, here it is anyway.

On a few of my first dates men have asked me to tell them what I want to achieve in my life.  My prose is not eloquently articulating the tone of college-speak this questions sounds like live.  But, I have a few thoughts regarding this question.

I'm familiar with "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man" by Steven Harvey.  If you are going to bite his advice, get it right.  Per Mr. Harvey, women (I repeat WOMEN) should ask men their short- and long-term goals.  This makes far more sense to me as a question, even if it's a man asking a woman.  Equal opportunities, blah blah blah.  But I digress.

When I'm asked this question, it comes across as though life hasn't happened, and I'm still waiting to get a career or achieve something.  You know, it's like "What do you want to be when you grow up?"  Well, although I deny it on a regular basis, I have grown up.  I'm a loving daughter, sister, aunt, friend, and attorney.  It's who I AM, not who I wish to be.  I have already achieved many things I'd hoped to when I was younger.  This leads me to my second point.

I realize with these men, many have not achieved things they hoped as a kid, or they didn't start setting goals until they were an adult.  I am blessed.  I was a goal setter almost from birth.  Not only that, I set goals and I achieved them.  This seemed normal to me when I grew up, and did not seem to be so atypical.  What I am realizing more and more, is that this is not how everyone else has operated.  Even as an adult, if there is something I want to achieve, I develop a plan, and do it.  No, I have not done everything there is to do.  I still have short- and long-term goals.  Which is another reason why, THAT is a better question.  My answer isn't much different, but it will include more short-term ideas and things I'm working toward.

When I'm asked about what I wish to achieve, I politely say, I wish to continue the way I am.  And hopefully grow and be a stronger Christian and person doing God's will.  I don't know if this is the answer the man expects.  But it is the truth.  Maybe I should pull out my bucket list. . .err create a bucket list first, then pull out said bucket list and hand it over.

What are your thoughts?