Existential Crisis

i find myself in a particular state more often that i thought possible.  i’m not certain if there are increasingly more triggers or that the same ones that have always existed happen to be more prevalent in my life, but this state of frustration i visit regularly.  i wish it were a destination i rarely happen to make it to, but it’s more like a weekly & sometimes daily excursion.  every so often i can revisit this place several times within a 24 hour period so maybe it’s a matter of my only thinking that i left when in fact i just happened to be on the outskirts. i wish i could spend less time there.  it’s not like a Caribbean getaway, unless that getaway occurred during the peak of hurricane season with a category 5 about to hit followed by a tsunami and mudslides.  occasionally i find myself drifting towards the location all day long, fighting the magnetism and finally giving in only to find that i want to SCREAM, but i’m surrounded my people who still seem to think i’m relatively sane (they don’t know me that well) and would not be able to handle the nervous breakdown i feel entitled to have on a regular basis.  i would go to the doctor to see if there was something wrong with me, but that would require that i have medical insurance so i’ll continue to self mediate with my favorite bottle glass of wine that doubles as an iron absorption enhancer among other remedies…

I’ve been listening to a lot of music lately…by music I mean that I’ve got an interesting collection of Pandora stations that vary from jazz, bluegrass, classical, classic rock, 80’s dance/pop/electronica, dance, hip-hop, r&b and salsa.  My favorites are the smooth and sultry sounds of 1920’s-1950’s crooners.  I also love the poetics of Jill Scott and the sense of emotion she portrays in her songs.  Today this particular section of the song Love Rain made me smile.

The rain was fallin and,and slowly and sweetly and stinging my eyes
And I could not see that he became my voodoo priest
And I was his faithful concubine
Wide open,wide,loose like bowels after collard greens
The mistake was made
Love slipped from my lips
Dripped down my chin and landed in his lap
And us became new
Now me non-clairvoyant and in love
Made the coochie easy and the obvious invisible
The rain was falling
And I couldn’t see the season changing
And the vibe slipping off it’s axis
Our beautiful melody became wildly staccato
The rain was falling and I could not see
That I was to be plowed and sowed and fertilized
And left to drown in his sunny afternoon

I think the song addresses an experience many people have had-to be lost in and consumed by love to the extent that it “made the coochie easy and the obvious invisible”.  It is fitting that I chose this song considering the intense rain storm we had here today

as i sit here at the gym watching ever so impatiently as my nieces take their gymnastics class i realize my lacking virtue.  every one of these children that say mommy or daddy with that sing song high pitched voice eats away at my hardened exterior.  by the end of my two (yes TWO) hours here i will not be able to take my nieces home and give them a bath…nope, tonite they are going straight home to their mother.  maybe it has something to do with being back in school, working (ok, so it’s like 2 hours a day), and dealing with my family…mostly dealing with my family…that has me already stressed out that the company of a large group of ankle biters has me beyond frustrated.  this lil one just left the class crying because her drink would not work.  i want to smack the brat and say “there are children around the world who are starving, thirsty and would figure out how to get the damn drink out instead of throwing a tantrum”…i guess i can sit here and glare at her mother for the rest of the class for allowing that behavior since i kept my mouth shut.  ahhhhh, why do i do this to myself?

but then there are these two adorable black children who are with a white foster family and let’s just say that this toddler runs things! she has more personality than i thought possible in that little body and does not care what anyone else thinks…ahh, i think that was me in a previous life

i found out last night that a few of my friends (ok, so all of them cuz i really only have a few) read my blog.  i have to admit it was surprising.  i’m really glad…

adding to my warm fuzzy feeling…i got to chill with MILF and PYT (nilla called her PTY) all the way from Cali.  they are so much fun.  PYT isn’t from here and she now has more friends than Choco, Nilla and I do.  ohhh yea, allow me to introduce myself…i’m Kid Caramel (pretend that i followed it with a really nice freestyle).  we even inducted a new member.  big ups to Krispy Kreme!

i have some really good friends here in central PA.  i have to admit that they’ve made being here a lot more fun than i had expected.  through the dustbowl, chillin in cougartown, karaoke, dollar vodkey, dj carter, wine in a box, whacking balls, spa days, and rock star lifestyles make me feel like my life is more fabulous than we could have imagined in central PA!!!

yesterday evening i didn’t feel too well so i went to bed a bit earlier than usual (which means i was in bed before 7pm). i knew that going to sleep would mean i would be awake just after midnight ready to start my day and tired again before it actually began.  i found a novel i didn’t know i owned.  it was the type of book i generally would not read.  i’m not trying to come across as a literary snob because i am a fan of chic lit, but i oftentimes reconcile the genre as a modern reflection of the 19th century novels by women.  at any rate, there i was in bed reading a graphic ghetto novel.  by the third chapter i was entranced.  the writing style was basic, but that made it so much easier for me superimpose myself and my concept of the characters as i read.  by 11pm i lay the book back on the shelf smiling at the predictable but heartwarming ending.  i had laughed out loud and several times felt the tears welling up in my eyes.  i would not say this was the best novel i’d ever read, but last night i was moved by it.  maybe it had as much to do with my own life as it did the story as i could see parts of myself–my past, present and future–in the young heroine.  regardless, it was a reminder of why i love to read.  the joy i get from deeply submerging myself in the text and becoming something more that i ever imagined i could be is inexplicable.  within the finely crafted literature my life has intertwined with historical figures and fictional characters.  most importantly it is through the reflections of them that i learn more about myself and begin to see not only who i am, but who i long to be…