My 28th bucket list

1. Skydive on a beautiful day
2. Publish an anthology
3. Sing on a public stage
4. Permanently quit smoking cigarettes
5. Gone on a caribbean cruise
6. Commit myself to a dance class
7. Create & commit to a daily routine.
8. Attend a talk/game show I like/actually watch.
9. Save $10,000
10. Own a pair of Christian LeBoutain shoes
11. Throw a theme party
12. Climb a mountain.
13. Record an original song/record.
14. Go on a fishing trip.
15. Sail a boat.
16. Visit Mexico & Canada
17. Maintain a minimum balance of $300 for a year.
18. Make the minimum monthly payment on all my cc bills.
19. Obtain my drivers license.
20. Buy/lease/rent a car.
21. Take a road trip with friends.
22. Make it to yoga class 3 times a week for at least a month.
23. Crash a private party.
24. Participate in/create a scavenger hunt through out NYC.
25. Go to Mardi Gras/Brazilian Carnival
26. Learn to ski.
27. Take a glass blowing &/or pottery class.
28. Earn my bachelor's degree.
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#212

I often get the feeling that he will never be satisfied with just being. Not trying to make things work but rather allowing them to work naturally in their own ways & time. I often believe that I know his mind better than I know my own. Like how he thinks this marriage is convenience rather than an unfulfilled desire. Similar to when your stomach aches
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#138 (SoHo Billboard)

Days before seeing it with my own eyes, I had heard about it. The infamous pro-life billboard in Soho proclaiming the womb as the most dangerous place for an african-american child. After the initial shock I spent my off day looking for this oversized reminder that unjust bias still resides in the world, and even worse it's plastered in the streets of my beloved city. Seeing it only made my emotional response worse.
Standing alone on the corner in the rain, I was the only one in the crowd unable to move, crying for memory of being that woman who had to make that choice. I stood there crying for 10 years of what might have been, and 3 years of what was and still is the worst yet best choice i had ever made. I hated that in my face was a reminder of the lives I had altered. I hated that for 5 minutes I was a lively, talented, intelligent, ambitious, 17 year old hs senior facing a world of possibility and pondering the reality of a baby again. I remember that saturday in a brisk October, the only day I could do it without arousing my mother's suspicion and ultimately incurring her wrath. Like any "cool" mom she knew everything I was doing, and taught me everything I needed to know to protect myself. So I should have known better. I should have been better. I remember going to soho alone ans waiting for what seemed like forever. Seeing the sad, drawn faces of the girls who had been before me. Waiting in my white gown & socks, staring at (possibly) the same spot as everyone else in the room. Too ashamed to call anyone for help, after ward I waited alone and feared I'd always be that way. As if from that moment on a scarlet A would forever be branded on my forehead. Some years later I would be diagnosed with PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome), and in effect may never have children. But neither scenario was the case. Today I am the mother of two beautiful children. But for 5 minutes I was 17, alone, angry, and scared.
After the memory faded, the anger remained. To be a black woman in america is enough without the extra in your face commentary of the ultra conservatives. That posted reminded me of a time in childhood when white kids in school would tell me to go back to my country. As if african slaves had been given a choice in the matter. Its an open display of racial bias disguised as an ideal. TBC...
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#78

"Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.... Both of us deserve better than to stay together our of fear of being destroyed if we don't" -Eat Pray Love
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#37

And then there are days like this. When business gets so crazy I want to scream. I come in early, leave late, and have a slight recollection of the 13 hours in between. I sit in anticipation of the next 4 days to past. For the day of justification to arrive and I can finally remember for a short while why I allow myself to get consumed by the consumers.
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And I w

Sometimes I wish I had never met her, so I didn't sit here at night and think about her. Wondering if her taste was as sweet as her smile. if I could ever get tired or kissing her lips. I wish I didn't look back at that time but could look forward to being in her presence once again. I still can't understand how she knew how to make me smile. How she knew exactly what spot would cause my body to contort in pleasure. I want to pick her brain and listen. I wish I could learn from her all the secrets her old soul has been keeping. To be continued...
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#22

"I'm probably pissed off because I woke up..." L.V.original
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#82

At first the conversation had me with my defences down. I had let go of my guard at her compliment and apology. Immediately regretting it. Through tears I read the hateful words she threw wildly, never missing her target. To b
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#53 (today)

Today, for reasons known only to my spirit, I wish I could crawl back into bed with my head tucked to my knees. I wish I could spend the morning hours drowning in my tears. When I was younger I would listen for the sound of a soul's departure. Usually random bouts of crying tend to be a prelude to the death of a loved one. I never know exactly who unless I dream about it in those moments of quiet between hurricanes of anguish. The forgotten peaceful sleep that comes with releasing what lays within my soul. Most times I don't remember the dream, so I am, at times, confronted with a shock in the aftermath of said storms.
But today can not be the day a loved one dies. Today I must be stoic in my appearance. I must be even-tempered, calm, patient, and kind. Because today I must work. I must force my brain to function. I must keep my spirits will at bay beneath my painted smile and cheery eyes. I hide within myself and prepare my mind for today.
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#79

Recently I have admitted several truths to myself. That I have lied to myself for most of my life. I've allowed myself to live in the illusion that if I am a good person and do good for others then life will be good. the truth is shit never really gets better, it just changes shape. People will not always like you. They'll hold tight to their beliefs like air for lungs because without it they'll probably die.
I used to embrace life so deeply, with a fullness that was overwhelming. Now I accept the mediocrity it has become. I embrace the feelings of anguish I feel inside because otherwise I'd probably give in to the voice that whispers softly in my ear. She entices me with promises of peace in a place where suffering is unknown. so within my shell of solitude, I cry and write, expressing all that I know in an attempt to empty the space. I pretend rainbows exist and smile anyway.
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