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Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Blast from the Past (to be so free...)

whatever...

Saturday, March 25, 2006

to be so free...

Sometimes I feel vulnerable to life. Sometimes I let go and let life take me in its own direction. I sometimes feel as if I have waded out to the chest high waters of the ocean, closed my eyes, and let the current do with my soul what it desires…

My nightmares are more vivid than ever. My dreams are probably in Technicolor now (if I could only open my eyes to see them). Last night, I cried in my sleep. Last night, I laughed in my sleep. Both were necessary. I slept well.

My admission for the day: I have cried.

Every time I watch the movie, The Color Purple, I undoubtedly release the ocean of tears during the part of the film where “Mister”(the part played by Danny Glover) throws rocks at “Nettie” (the sister of Whoopi Goldberg’s character “Celie”). I was so ashamed when I first saw this movie as a teen, in the movie theater with my parents nonetheless. To be separated from someone that you feel so close to, someone that you have come to grow with, can be traumatic. I have separation anxiety that I attribute to watching this movie (I feel). I hated “Mister” for that. I always wonder if my parents or my sisters saw me crying. Then again, I always wondered if they recognized that when watching the sex scenes in the movie, Purple Rain , I always left the room, despite knowing exactly what happened and for how long… I was so uncomfortable… That’s a whole ‘nother blog though…

Every time I watch the movie, Independence Day, I always cry like a heartbroken adolescent girl (okay I am exaggerating a bit, but you get the point). There is one scene where the drunken pilot, Russell Casse, played by Randy Quaid, says goodbye to his children while volunteering to sacrifice himself for the greater good of mankind. He was far from perfect, yet his children loved him for who he was. I love that character and I can relate to his struggle with life relating to family, alcohol, and being a working cog in society. His last words are “Up yours” or something like that. I always wind up laughing through the tears. I am an emotional bastard. Sue me. I can pay you a salary from the dried up salt of my tears.

I will never watch the movie, Braveheart. In the score to the film, there is a portion where “Amazing Grace” is being played on the bagpipes. I can remember the first time I heard the song… It was the around the first week of November 2003. It was the first day of Ramadan and I was preparing to go up to 12 hours without smoking or eating in public. I was attending my first wartime memorial service for a fallen soldier. I was ambivalent. Though I personally saw the specific carnage and destruction that lead to the fallen soldier first hand, I did not know this soldier personally, so I was emotionally detached. At this memorial service, as well as many more that I would attend for fallen soldiers, the bagpipe version of the hymn was played in conjunction with the 21-gun salute. A soldier stands fully stiffened with arms fixated at his side at the “position of attention” during this moment. The rifle volleys send chills down my spine. It is impossible to stop the tears once they start. One cannot wipe his face from the “position of attention”. The atmosphere is chilling, even in the midday heat of the desert. A soldier passes out to my left. He lies there as everyone is stuck in the moment. I am frozen in time. Yeah I cry. So. Fucking. What. You can only wish to be so free.

I leave you with a haiku from the archives:

http://2damnhot.blogspot.com/2005/12/6_12.html

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Letter to a Beautiful Woman.

Dear Beautiful Woman,

I just wanted to take a moment to say thanks; thanks for the memories.

I remember our first meeting in LOVE park in Philadelphia. Although you were late, I soon grew used to the expectation and viewed it with anticipation. I seemed like a scene from a good movie in my mind.

I remember all of the diners that we ate at. All of the hole in the wall spots we tried out their food, only to find out it was awesome; there is the chinese restaurant witht he bullet-proof windows that sold dice and toilet tissue... they also sold fresh cut fruit in the early AM. I remember that equally theft deterrent liquor store with the most impressive selection of potato chips and the awesome sandwhich shop in the back that mostly served seafood dinners though the cheesesteak was smokin... Don't forget the menu of any place named "Golden".

I remember the long walk to the art museum where the walk was more entertaainiing than the exhibits and the company impeccable.

I remember the road trip to Florida where we almost crashed and died in the hurricane, skidding thruogh mutiple lanes of heavy teaffic at high speed. Laying on the beach to watch the sunrise followed by observing turtle conservationist is the best way to end that event and have bad luck. I am glad it happened with you.

I remeber all of the acts of random violence that we witnessed. The world is crazy aint it? Makes me wanna steal a tank... Ohh yeah, the police shoulda took me to jail for that but I talked my way outta that one pretty good, huh? I am sorry I punched yo in the eye... It was a nightmare. i can never apologize enough for that subconscious act. It don't help that someone got jacked or stabbed at all my family gatherings we attended. That's how we get down i guess? LOL.

I mostly liked sitting next to you. Just because it was nice.

Like I said. Thanks for the memories. They are good to me.

Vicariously yours,
me

Monday, February 09, 2009

Can I live ti My Last Day?

Well.

It's been a while and i am about to get back into this blogging thing again.
I will still be introspective.... but as sands fall through an hourglass, time waits for no man; i will live to the fullest.

I read an obituary the other day.
I am not into the habit of doing such things but this one was different.
I was attracted to a beautiful picture of a black woman that appeared to be in her prime.
I wondered what her name was and immediately saw that it was preceded by the DOCTOR nomeclature. It appeared as if this young vibrant beautiful woman had to be an old woman in the end... She was 37 years Old.

Her obituary listed her accomplishments and her accolades, all of which were impressive to me. Nonetheless, I could not help to wonder if this woman had ever stopped to smell the flowers.

Was her life spent pursuing a goal so strongly that she denied an immediate family for herself? What did she do for fun if she spent so much time qualifying for degrees and awards? Did she live her life to the fullest.

She died of brain cancer. I bet she would have made an awesome mother and spouse had she decided but, is that the true reason that we are here?

Well, I didn't know her, yet she has had a profound effect on me througgh her death. Perhaps it really is true; You ARE nobody 'til somebody kills you...

But what am I doing? Am I living a life that if I know I have a terminal disease that I would not look back in regret? I hope so. I try hard to live a good life and be a good person. I just want any regrets on my deathbed.
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