Less

I have a secret

But I’ll never tell

It’s not problem to keep it

And it’s just as well

You wouldn’t want to know

It could mean your time

I would have to go

Through my life

So keep your distance

And I’ll keep mine

There is no instance,

Which could cause me mind

There is no hurt

Without this delight

And there are no words

That could cause you to try

And it’s just as well

Because you wouldn’t want to know

And it’s just as well

That I’m on my own

Straight Talk

We need to start watching what we say.  And no, I don’t mean because it’s 2017 and everyone has suddenly become oversensitive.  I mean, we need to watch what we say, because words carry an unbelievable weight behind them.  It’s not about being careful with your words because people can’t take a joke.  It’s about taking a minute and recognizing the person you are having a conversation with, and how your words will affect them.  Words that go from one mouth, into another’s ears, will unravel according to the person.  Some people can handle a straight-talk type of approach, while others will need something softer.  The same phrase, “We need to fix this problem,” will never be heard the same way.  One person might hear that phrase and feel attacked, another may feel motivated.  The point is, we need to watch the way talk to people.  If we are talking to be understood, we must then adjust what we are saying based on the person we are saying it to.  How can we expect to be understood, when we are continually sending the wrong messages?  We have to realize, that just because something is said, and meant a certain way, does not mean that is how the message will be received.  We’ve all played the telephone game when we were little, where one kid starts a whisper, and by the time the whisper has reached the last kid, it has transformed itself through several different viewpoints and come out as something foreign.  We must be mindful, that once our thoughts go out as words, there is nothing more we can do.  The words will be translated through everyone else’s mindset, and all we can hope is that we put enough thought into the delivery, so that the message is received as what it was meant to be.  Unless, of course, you’re not talking to be understood.  But, then, what would be the point?

Stop

You never stop

You need too much

Your mind is afraid

Of each arriving thought

You’re needy

You’re clingy

You’re becoming manipulative

I try and I smile

But I know

I can’t give in

Is this love

It seems like too much

My life

Is not yours

I am not your crutch

Quiet

Give me your closed mouth

Your soft skin and strong hands

Give me your movement

I need the silence

Leave your opinions and your judgment

I don’t want it

Give me your silence

Leave your attitude and your insecurities

I can’t have it

I don’t want it

Leave your shit behind

I need quiet

Anaya

Anaya

Anaya he tells me

Anything for the love

Anything the love can dream

Anaya

The deep pools of your auburn eyes

Speak of a love that will never die

The quiet actions done for love

Speak to a truth no one can tell

If only we didn’t have to wait

If only I knew you when

If only we could take that time back

Anaya

I’ll go back and find you again

Because I am yours

In this life and the next

I am yours

Deep inside where only your light shines

My love is yours

Change, or something that looks like it

Everything’s different.  The times have changed.

Only thing is, everything’s not different and the times haven’t really changed.

People have learned.  They’ve learned that perception is what matters.  The outward facade.  Be gay, but don’t be too flamboyant.  Be a woman, but don’t be too sexual.  Be religious, but don’t be Muslim.  Be overweight, but at least look like you’re trying to be healthy.  Be what you are, but make sure that what you are doesn’t make any body else uncomfortable.

Be old but look young.  Be young but act mature.  Be happy, but don’t ever let anyone know about it.  Appear happy, by posting, commenting, and editing for social media.

We’ve reached an apex era.  The era of self-indulgence.  Hedonistic, pleasure-seeking, non-stop decadence.  There is no cost too great.  We’ve reached a time where there is more than enough for everyone.  Only problem, there isn’t enough money to pay for it all.

Everything is the same as it’s always been.  There are people.  These people are born to live out their lives.  This life that only has meaning because of other living beings.

Appearance has always been important.  It has always mattered how things appear.  Only thing that’s different today is that everything should appear as if change has occurred.

Ignorance, check.  Hate, check.  Classism, sexism, racism, check.  War, check.  Hunger, check.  Change, definitely not.

I choose to be vulnerable.  I’m fucked up and flawed and I’ve had really amazing moments in my life and extremely horrible points.  To everyone looking in on another’s life from the outside in envy, appearances aren’t reality.  The only way through the facade is to go in deep.  I choose to wade through the bullshit and get into the real stuff.

I don’t want to look back at my life and realize I was too afraid to be real with people.  Too afraid of losing, hurting, or offending so instead I never had a real interaction and connection.

I choose to look past the posed pictures, manicured lawns, and carefully edited biographies into the pain, joy, and hope of living.

The Mother Diaries

1

Actual messaging between a brother and a sister.

Sister:  You know, I’m fucking 30 years old and I still feel messed up and dysfunctional because of mom, and there’s no way to actually explain everything or get across to anyone just how severely she fucked us up, do you ever just get pissed about it?

Brother:  From time to time my love.  The key is to NOT let it affect you.  You have control of whether her actions can be looked back fondly as a crazy mother friend or negatively as what it really was lol.  I love you baby doll if you ever want to chat just say the word.

I did want to chat.  And I wanted to start from the present and wade my way through the bullshit.  Maybe I felt so fucked up because I had previously thought I was over this shit.  Guess I was wrong.  I’ll start from the end.

My mother was living in our house.  The house I share with my husband, and a friend of ours who is a little down on her luck at the moment.  It’s a big house.  My mother would commute between my house and my sisters place, three hours apart, but for the most part she was at our house.

I don’t remember living with my mother before this.  She’s always telling me stories like, do you remember that house with the pool when we lived in Chino?

No.  I don’t.

So her moving in many months ago was a completely new experience for me.  It was amazing at times, frustrating, funny as hell, and painful.  But mostly I would push any lingering pain out of the way so I could enjoy the fact that I was getting all this time with my mom.

My mom is a stoner.  She’s lived a hard thorough life and marijuana has been the most consistent thing in her life.  Besides that, she is only consistent about her inconsistencies and lying.

She would wake up, light a joint, and drink her coffee.  Telling stories that she had told a million times before, she would often emphasize with hand gestures and trail off down unforeseen tangents.  She would then go to the kitchen and eat something to do with toast, butter, eggs, or chocolate.

Mostly, we laughed so hard we cried.  Yes, we were usually high, but that’s only because it made it easier for me to ignore my pain that was trying to force itself up into the conversations.

While she was here I was reminded of the way she was whenever I was able to see her growing up.  But because I was older I saw things I’d never seen before.  The most obvious thing about her was how afraid she was, of so many things, and how hard she’s trying to act like she’s not.

Mostly, she’s afraid of anyone getting to know who she really is, because she doesn’t think anyone will love her once they do.  She’s afraid of being thrown away.  Which is fucking ironic to me, but I digress.

I learned a lot from her time at the house, but mainly I learned that my mom has a restless spirit, and I’m not sure if she’ll ever find peace.

For now she’s back where she started, in the same city she grew up in, in the same city where her father recently passed away.  I was always worried about her before, like she was going to die and I wouldn’t even know.  I’m not worried anymore, at least I learned that about her.