Sunday, January 21, 2007

i used to...

when I was younger i used to be as quiet as i could be.
trying to blend into the back ground
all growing up i had one good friend that i was stuck to...
this one friend understood me in some way and i clung to them for strength

in kindergarten and first grade it was tiffany
by second grade it was hollie until fifth grade
that year i met quiana and she lasted until seventh when i met alison
alison became my support and life line from 7th until just after high school when i moved away

alison was the longest support my "weakness" needed.....out of all of these girls
alison is the only one i still speak to regularly...i still consider my friend
alison was also the one who needed me most....so we kind of needed each other
emotionally,mentally....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

what does that mean?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

when I was born i was born with a hurnia(sp wrong? i know) because of this i wasn't allowed to cry or strain
until it was healed. well....i was a screamer. being the youngest my siblings and mother and father took turns holding me and rocking me and entertaining so as not to upset anything. well.....i was a screamer. i ended up in the hospital four times the first year...having ripped it. the doctor finally told my mom..."If you have to stand on your head to keep this child happy and not screaming you do it...she can not be back in here again or we're going to have to undergo mayjor surgery"....

I went home....my family proceeded to stand on their heads. making up "watermellon baby" songs that my dad jokingly sang to me until I was 13 or 14....crazy jig dances to keep me smiling....talk about spoiled! the begingings of heavy dependence?

~~~~~

but my dad was always very sick and by the time I was in 3rd grade I was terrified of sleeping in my room. sleeping instead between my mom and dad or outside their door with my fingers stretched under the sill....feeling as close to them as I could. I knew my dad was always slipping away and by that time the diabetes was so out of control atleast twice a week we were woken up by my mom crying or screaming or shaking us awake...."hurry! go get some sugar water and some peanut butter...NO no! he'll choke on that....just get three glucose tablets and crush them up in soda...orange juice..wahtever! and hurry!"....I'd come back to her lying half across him....his lips pursed like a child...tossing his head back and forth.

"Come on honey....drink just a little bit....we need to get this down you" my mom says

I look over to the blinking numbers on the blood sugar monitor that my mother has just used. 77 or 63 or 52 flashes on the screen. I know that is much too low and my heart speeds up. we know we have about 5 minutes of trying to persuade him in this state before it's time to call that number.......

I run up to the bed...my older sister next to me...wiping the gallons of sweat from my dads forhead.

"Come on daddy...just a little bit....do you want to go to the hospital....come on...just a little bit" and our eyes were gritty and our stomachs were upset and if we were lucky he'd open his mouth a little bit and get the heavy syrup to run sluggishly down his throat and he'd be ok. but sometimes...alot of the times.... that didn't happen. we had to call and the ambulance had to come and we had to miss school sitting up on the couch with the phone between nichole and stephen waiting for mom to call....to let us know if we were ever going to see our dad again.......

.....i've always been terrified of sleeping alone. i'm 23....nothing has changed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i was 15....we all know this story already....my dad finally slipped away....he finally had rest......and i felt lost and she felt lost....and didn't we all feel just a little lost?

he was always sick....but he was the back bone he was the faith and teh quiet strength

they all moved on....it was best.....leave the memories...leave the pain....heal your soul a little....i didn't begrudge them that.

so it was just mom and i ....until we moved here.

and she was a shell of the woman she had been....lost and crying and lying in darkened rooms for days on end..clutching his housecoat...afraid to wash it....afraid to lose his smell...

and i wasn't her daughter...she was mine...i wiped away the tears and helped her crawl out of hell and she's been my mother,daughter,best friend ever since.......but what dependence we all had....on each other....sometimes to an unhealthy point.....but thick or thin,right or wrong....this is me.....and my family has never told me I told you so and they've never not been there to pick me up............

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

relationship after relationship i drowned myself in these people. needing some kind of strength because i felt i had none. there was beauty and glitter and faired images on water and we healed each other...but the other relationships came and went......and i stood on my head and i did little jig dances...anything to keep them happy....gaining weight and losing weight and "That's not what i want".......they always said....but I didn't feel enough inside of my self...not realizng that my weakness was the very thing pushing them away and if I had to do these things to keep them happy (or so I thought) then what really was the point anyway?

and I had a child......and my god...my world came to a stand still and i looked down at her tiny 6 pound body cradled in my hands and her warm cheeks....her pudgy fingers and spiky black hair and i loved her from the very second i saw her. and I knew things needed to be different......this baby was going to depend on me for a long time...forever in some ways...and what was there to depend on if i was depending on every one else.....

I am not a baby with a condition anymore.....I am not a child afraid of losing one of her parents....i am not a child afraid the other kids will call her fat or ugly or nappy head......i am not a teenager afraid if she doesn't smile and bend over backwards and agree with every comment the boys won't like her....i am not an adult searching for myself in someone else....

my name is neshira....i am twenty three years old......i am "full figured" and lovely for it....my hair is brown and curly and riotous and soft and unmangeable....my eyes are hazel or brown or green or whatever.....my lips are very full.....i hate football and i hate baseball .....watching it,playing it,breathing it....it's there and it's never going to change....i love music and i love to dance when no ones watching and i go through 18 gallons of lip gloss a day.....i love eye make up....black or green or smokey gray and who cares if it's too much it's me and it's mine and i like it.....i love cheetos and pickles and crab meat and barbecue sauce and black raspberry ice cream it's bad but it doesn't hurt once in a while....i love to sing, i love to sing and sing and sing...in the shower...to my daughter....while i cook or do dishes and drive the car......my dream is to go to a tiny bar and sing a nora jones song to no one....just to say i did it....just to feel my feet on a stage and my hands around a microphone.....

i love dogs and turtles and lizards and fish and i don't like cats...they scare me....they're eyes and manners intimidate me and oh well.....i just don't like them..........i have large breasts and large hips and small feet and small hands and i love to tell stupid jokes and watch the rain and smell the rain and feel the rain and feel nature and beauty and love ALL the time.....i hate that television and telephones and work and bills take over life till we forget the color of the grass and the smell of the wind....because that's not life..that's not even living...that's necessary meaningless... and it chokes us and binds us to loves that will never love us back...

I smoke cigarettes...and it hurts my lungs and it's so bad for me and yes yes yes i should quit...and i will for my daughter if not for my self...but of all the necassary evils, give me a break....i love to hike and it makes me out of breath but i absolutely love love love it....i have 25 goals...written down to accomplish before i die and i've only accomplished 3...3!....but there will be time.

I love black clothes and I love home made clothes and i hate designer anything....and i'm borderline hippy and who cares....i love the taste of rum although i don't drink it hardly at all......and i hate doing dishes and i hate doing laundry and i hate taking out garbage but that's life and it doensn't really take up that much time anyway.......

I used to.....depend on everyone for the strength i thought i needed to absorb to live day to day life.....i used to.....but not anymore...i'm finding a quiet strength inside of myself that i think is one of the most beautifull things i've ever discovered...coming from a place of becoming

i used to........

Saturday, January 20, 2007

as if i were watching your dreams in my head

You only talked to me
You said, "Tell me"
You asked, "Do you think Love and Soul are the same?"
If not, how does the Soul earn Love?
How does Love find it's Soul?
Can one exist withought the other?
If Love and the Soul had a child
what would her name be?

"Tell me your name" I said
"You already know
If you are Soul
I am the other one"

I heard the sea in your voice
sheer waves breaking on pale powdered sand
I heard the glossy rustlings of the cypress and olive trees
the footsteps of maenads and panpipes playing
echoing caves in the mountains
cloven hooves striking the rock
At their approach birds took flight into the white skies

After a long time I fell asleep

In the morning you were gone....

~pg.8-9 Psyche in a Dress,(Francesca Lia Block)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish I could write like this
I wish light and glitter and wonderfull warm pure things
poured out of me
I wish it would touch someone
I wish I didn't feel as if my head were floating right now

my fingers are sore and cracking. i squeeze them occasionally,pressing them
to my chest or beneath my warm thigh,trying to soothe the ache. it doesn't matter. what
a trivial thing. really.

I wish warm red and yellow and orange sketches were life
I wish the black background...the paper the sketch belongs to....the void....
were real....not just an image behind your eyes in a darkened room
I wish mouths could open and pour out! pour out! mine.....everyones!
spew it....don't worry about the glory or the pain or the poetry it may create
let it be!

this is life!

THIS!

this beauty....this pain....this insecurity....these prayers! all of it! THIS is what matters.

we swirl and we swirl and we release and we become and we go back and we return and we begin and what what what!
WHAT!?

THIS is me....not this hair....this pound of eyeliner I apply to hide the shade of my eyes...this 15 layers of clothes I wear to hide the shape of my body.....I am beautiful and so are you and so is everyone and so are we all. sometimes I lie awake at night trying to count the perfect second and sometimes i pretend if i close my eyes and tilt my head far back i can float off into nothing and i'll teach my daughter to lie on the floor and and close her eyes and listen to the quiet and just be.....just be

what else is there?

and who gives a shit what the hell the rest of the world thinks.

this is me

whole and complete

i am not a flower

i am not a weed

i am a tree

branching out....

roots rich and deep

Friday, January 19, 2007

and I am...I am

Here i am. floating, flying high above the trees.
and the beauty of the breeze.
you are you
and I... am I
I am I am I am

my heart feels oddly light
incandescent
not my own

but it is...and this is me!
me!

I don't make sense
and I'm not the most wonderfull of wonderfull
but i am wonderfull...do you see?

some things happen
and some things pass
and some things come again
and some things just are

I am not bitter
i am not wrong and I am not right

mistakes are made
and things are forgiven
and things just are...sometimes

if this should be then it should be
maybe...maybe I wasn't the one for you
i hope with all my heart you find that one
and i hope it's light and laughter and love

and i am me
me!

so this is it
the light in the clouds as we pass in the car
the smell of bread rolls baking in the oven
birthday candles and presents and "ho-ho-ho's"
family gathered around the tree....i'll miss that

but some things should just be
and this should be

and I'm ok with this....this be that is

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i'm going home. it's time.it'll be a few weeks....but.....

one can only return
after a period of absence.but perhaps that was always my real...
my true....return after long wanderings...

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

a few days of introspection

when i was fifteen my father passed away. i watched,numb,as the nurses stood in the door way crying softly. nurses that he had supervised for 20+ years, stood in the doorway of the small corner room of the ICU crying softly.

as doctors came in and walked back out again their heads lowered. with still no answers why he had lapsed into the coma.

as my mother and grandmother leaned over him wiping the blood away from his nose.

that night i went home and sat on the street corner curb watching the cars pass by.
filing up in front of the house.cars from new hampshire and massachusettes. from florida and georgia.even from washington. people filing out.going up into the house trying to pull my mother out of the hell she was currently wallowing in. an empty shell sitting on the couch staring at my dads jacket on the back of the chair in the foyer.

and i ran. in a blur of angry tears. to the park 1/2 mile down the road. and i sat on the bank of the pond and I stared at the ripples the wind caused on it's surface. i sat there for hours watching it's surface. eventually it grew dark. eventually the street lights came on. and i sat there mesmorized by the glow of the light dancing on the water.

and i saw myself reflected....and i wasn't sure. exactely what to make of the image i did see..............

so i get up off the couch and i go back to the bathroom and lock the door and stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself. at the shape of my eyes and my nose and my lips. my hair and my ears and the length of my neck.

it's eight years later....and i see myself reflected....and i'm not quite sure.exactely.what to make of the image i see.

Monday, January 01, 2007

an actual return...after long wanderings

So this is actually...a return after long wanderings.

I haven't been here lately because i haven't felt like myself. I don't know what was wrong. I was just blah..and sad feeling inside.

And I realized Christmas Eve night after leavig the warm den of his grandfathers house just what that sad feeling inside was. It was missing my dad. It was needing him here next to my mom, handing a purple purse, with the picture of Tinkerbell,glittered and poeitic on the front,to my daughter. Excited and hands extending.

But life is beautiful. As so are the streets of Louisville, Kentucky on a Sunday night at approxiatmely 9:45 pm. So are the street lights flashing by..bringing to my mind the warm hazel eyes of my father, I glimpse every once in a while in the bath room mirror. Wishing he here were. Glad he isn't. He isn't hurting anymore. But needing his hand on my shoulder.

Tonight we went to a house party. At a long time friend of Chip's friends house. It was warm and wonderfull. The night air brisk outside, just enough to drive you back inside to warm drinks and even warmer company.

Tonight just as the ball began his descent. As the people inside. Loved,beloved.just getting to know....as they chanted that age old count down.

10....

and then he pulls me aside

9........

"let's go ouside..." he tugs my hand toward the pattio door and I clutch his hand in my left and my sweatshirt in the right

8.........

I Look back inside as he wraps his arms around me..

7..........

"you love me with all your heart , right?" he asks me. I smile looking back at him. "Yes,of course I do" I aswer with my eyes brows raised.

6............

"And you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with me?.....his left hand reaches down into his pocket. I nod my head in the positive motion

5..........

I look down at him fumbling in his pocket breifly. Something clicks in my mind....wait a minute..the balls just about to drop....what are we doing out here..?.....

4.......

he's holding a black velvet box.....and I keep my head down, staring at it.....thinking about the conversation his mother and I had the other night..if aiva's being good for my mom....why chips hand is shakeing a little bit....why my knees begin to .....

3......

"Will you marry me?"....he holds my face in his hand. stroking his thumb over my cheek

2.....

Are you serious?...really?..I ask him, holding the ring between my fingers. between his fingers.

1......

"Yes" he says. simply

~~~~~~~~!!!!HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!~~~~~~


they scream inside. the t.v plays that sad song they always play during new years, that always reminds me of Miracle On 34th Street. And I say simply.

Yes...yes.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Holiday Meme

HOLIDAY MEME:
1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?Such a hard decision. But I guess Egg Nog since it's a once a year treat and Hot Chocolate is all the time

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree? My very much older(only two years) very much more mature brother told me at the age of 31/2 that Santa was not real. So presents were always from Mommy and Daddy

3. Colored or white lights on tree/house? Growing up, it was always white lights on the tree and the house. But as soon as I got my first apartment with my sister we decided colored lights and I like colored lights much better.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? Yup, my dad used to hang them in every door way. An excuse to kiss my mom in front of us back when we thought our parents kissing was "ewww!". But he used to call it tickle toe with me and lure me under it so he could chase me around and tickle my toes.

5. When do you put your decorations up? Day after Thanksgiving

.6. What is your favorite holiday dish? We do something different every year. THe past couple of years it's been an Italian dinner...Lasagna or Stuffed Shells,tossed salad,garlic bread and thanks to my oldest sister a million and a half cookies and deserts.

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child? The year every single one of us was sick. It was so great because my dad worked two jobs and always had to work christmas and the day after. we would get up at 5 am and open presents before he had to go to work,then go back to bed. but the year we were all sick he was there the whole day and it was just nice even though we all took turns running to the bathroom.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? Like I said, 3 1/2. What a cruel cruel world. But I've got Ki-ki's now, so I've started beleiving again :*)

.9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We used to go the my grandmas and sing carols and sweat like crazy in her 125000 degree house and open our grandma presents and then go home and open one mom and dad present on christmas eve.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? (I'm going by my childhood, but things will be different this year) My sister Natalie and I dance around like lunatics and wrap every decoration we can find around the tree until it threatens to fall over. My brother would sit on the couch watching, my eldest sister would bark the orders and my mom and dad would put on each of our individual baby ornaments and hand painted ornaments from my grandma and leave the rest up to me and Natalie.

11. Snow - love it or dread it? I'm from upstate New York. I LOVE IT!!

12. Can you ice skate? ...negative. But I'd love to try again!

13. Favorite holiday movie? Emmit Otters Jug Band Christmas,Raisins Special,Muppet Christmas,Bernstein Bears Christmas,White Christmas(Danny Kaye,of course!),Frosty the Snowman....I can't pick one.

14. What’s the most important thing about the Holidays for you? The music,the smiles,the "wow's!",the warm lovey feeling

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? I hate pie...but at Christmas I love Blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Singing Christmas Carols at my Grandmas because we had booklets with all the classic songs and my Grandma still got all the words wrong.

17. What tops your tree? An Angel in a white and gold dress

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? of course giving(grins!)

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? hmmm,hard one. White Christmas I guess

20. Candy Canes, yes or no? Of course.

and I now tag Chip and no excuses you can use my blog (hehehe,muah hahaha....he thinks he'll get away with it because he doesn't have a blog)

Thursday, November 30, 2006

es muss sien

"In the sunset of dissolution everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine" -M.K

When it comes to writing,Milan Kundera,in terms of characterization and my own fears and ideals,describes it best... "characters are not born like people, of woman;they are born of a situation, a sentence,a metaphor containing in a nutshell a basic human possibility that the author thinks no one else has discovered or said something essential about."

He goes on to say...."...the characters in my novels are my own unrealized possibilites. That is why I am equally fond of them all and equally horrified by them. Each one has crossed a border that I myself have circumvented. It is that crossed border which attracts me most...the novel is not the author's confession;it is an investigation of human life in the trap the world has become"

There is this amazing book I found discarded in the cold,damp basement of a 2 story colonial house I lived in,in New York(I've described this house before,now split into an upstairs and downstairs apt) The cover is torn and the pages are stained. From time and water and mildew and my own eager ink smudged fingers,I am sure. On the cover are a pair of womens delicate manicured hands balancing a bowler hat between it's index fingers. The picture has so many meanings,if only you'll flip open the cover and grace it's pages..or rather let it's pages grace you.

This novel (The Unbearable Lightness of Being,by Milan Kundera) is about two peoples relationship,four people intertwined really,who on a physical plain(the chechoslavakian republic in the 60's) have nothing at all in common with myself or anyone I've ever known. However, on an emotional level,is all of us. The funny thing(and whole point of this blog entry) is the title of my Blog..*A return after long wanderings*.. This has forever been in my mind, well not forever but seemingly as far back as I can remember. I thought always that this title,this short set of words had been birthed from my own poetic soul. I would say that were I to ever complete a novel this would be it's title,or something quite similar. However,I must apologize to Mr. Kundera for this assumption!

Towards the end of the novel one of the characters dies,his son decides to have carved on his headstone....a return after long wanderings. My heart slammed inside my chest while sitting at my cubicle. I had stolen this phrase?! I hadn't even realized it. I'd like to think,poetically,that Mr. Kundera and my own creative abilites are so in sync that the same phrase birthed from our souls with out any knowledge of the others writing. But I can't accept, or take credit for,that. Somewhere along the way this book simply spoke to me on such a direct link that the phrase stuck in my "poetic memory" and I adopted it as my own. So in apology to you Mr. Kundera, but also in thanks, for a beautifull phrase and an amazing book.

Here are some of the many quotes from the novel that I love so much.

pg. 209 "I have said before that metaphors are dangerous. Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory"

pg. 139 "the only truly serious questions are ones that even a child can formulate. Only the most naive of questions are truly serious. they are the questions with no answers. A question with no answer is a barrier that cannot be breached. In other words, it is questions with no answers that set the limits of human possibilites, describe the boundries of human existence."

pg.89 "Being a woman is a fate Sabina did not choose. What we have not chosen we cannot consider either out merit or our failure. Sabina beleived that she had to assume the correct attitude to her unchosen fate. To rebel against being born a woman seemed as foolish to her as to take pride in it"