war zone

The place I laid my head to rest
safe inside my big girl bed
The games I played down in the street
Roller blading and gazing at the trees
Staring out my window late at night
wishing on a star so bright
Mother May I, Simon Says
It's getting dark it's almost time for bed

this is the place where I grew up
this is the place where I learned to love
this is the only home I have ever known
this is the place I learned to grow
Now my neighborhood is a war zone

Skipping through the park after school
Watching Nickelodeon totally rules
Play dates and baby dolls
Trick-or-treat up and down the street on Halloween
play dough and finger paint selling girl scout cookies in the rain

this is the place where I grew up
this is the place where I learned to love
this is the only home I have ever known
this is the place where I learned to grow
Now my neighborhood is a war zone

Road rage, violence, gun shots as the sun sets
A family torn apart all so senseless
police, detectives, yellow tape and sirens
i look out the window and all i see is violence
this is my home not the 11 o'clock news

this is the place where I grew up
this is the place where I learned to love
this is the only home I have ever known
this is the place where I learned to grow
Now my neighborhood is a war zone

where the ocean meets the sky

I just came back from what I like to call my very first big-girl vacation.

It is a vacation that I booked, planned, coordinated and most importantly paid for all by myself.
It was the most glorious cruise to the East Caribbean.

The most amazing part was the fact that I actually tried new things. Outdoorsy things. I jet skied, snorkeled, and went parasailing. As I dangled 450+feet above the Caribbean Sea attached to a harness that was attached to a rope that was attached to a tiny sailboat that was being manned by a surfer dude from Virginia named Hudson with a hairstyle that resembled Spicoli in Fast Times at Ridgemont High I started to feel something.
For one, I realized that while I wasn't afraid of heights(surprising, for a girl that doesn't stand 5 feet tall), I was capable of feeling sea sick while not technically in a boat.

Secondly and more significantly, as I tried to ignore the sea sickness creeping up on me, I realized that this whole moment was very adult. Here I was, doing something I never would have experienced if it wasn't for my stepping out of the 2 bedroom box I was raised in. I was flying and although there was a guy harnessed to me( don't worry, it was just my boyfriend Michael), I was doing it. I was doing something I never considered doing before booking this trip, I was doing something out of my comfort zone and I was okay(aside from the sea sickness). I was doing something my parents would never do. Something my parents would never encourage me to do. Something my parents would consider dangerous and reckless and just not safe.

My whole life I have wanted to feel like I am an adult, or at least a big girl capable of doing big girl things like crossing the street, and driving a car.(Only one of those things have I actually mastered)

I have had parents who have stifled every and any attempt I have made at being self-sufficient and independent. My parents clip my wings every time I try to fly away, and then yell at me for not knowing how to fly. They are frustrated by my dependance on them, yet they insist on doing everything for me and controlling any and everything they can. This has been the pattern with them my whole life. This is the source of many of my problems.

Having realized their control on me is detrimental to my growth as a woman, I have taken steps(toddler-sized steps at times, but steps nonetheless) to become self-sufficient and break away from them.

Lately, it has become evident that many of my friends are beginning to lead these adult existences, existences that differ from the life I am currently leading. They are paying their own rent, going on vacations, and working full-time jobs. They drive cars that they pay insurance for. They are in long-term relationships with guys who take care of them. Some of them are living with these guys. They are financially, emotionally and physically independent from their parents. They are adults. And as usual, I am left feeling behind the curve, left back, watching from the sidelines as my friends graduate from college to adulthood, and I am left stuck in the middle.

I am tired of being stuck in the middle. I am tired of watching from the sidelines as every gets to play the game of life. I want to play. Please coach, put me in, I think I am ready. I promise, you won't regret it. So, with the little resources I had I got off the bench and into the game. And while, I still haven't scored a touchdown, I managed to stand on my own and not drop the ball.




oh, and he told me he loved me.

A woman like me

I bet you never met a woman like me
a girl with battle scars and wounds six inches deep
From the outside looking in I am just lacking motivation
Life is what you make it you tell me,
Just get over it and then you will see
you just never seem to understand
maybe you aren't a sensitive man
You itemize all of my flaws
a laundry list of goals unattained, potential unreached and decisions questionable

I am not like you
I don't make decisions and then make my move
I plot and I plan
wait patiently for someone to hold my hand and walk me through
to the other side of the fence that I am straddling
I didn't grow up with green grass and rabbits in the backyard
I fell asleep to the sounds of sirens and broken hearts
things don't come easy and sometimes they don't come at all
there are days I stay in bed,
life is far easier when the only noise I hear is the noise in my head
I bet you never met a woman like me
a woman who looks before she leaps
and then decides not to leap at all

a woman who has had pink hair, and bruises
a woman who smokes too much
and who isn't pretty without make up
I bet you never met a woman like me
someone who isn't afraid to hesitate before she makes her move
a girl with fire in her eyes and a hole in her heart
I bet you never met a girl willing to love you deeper and stronger than you ever imagined possible...if only you could love a woman like me

the ideal vs. the reality

I have a terrible habit of not seeing people for who they truly are. I tend to see things through this Disney fairy tale lens where people are characters in this fairy tale story that is my life, and I cast them in different characters. These characters are idealized versions of the actual person, but not really them. So for the beginning of our relationship I am looking at them under the shiny haze of fantasy, and not with the clear eyes of reality.

Does any of that make sense?

This fantasy person that I have created in my mind only tends to last for so long usually either until he reveals himself in a dramatic fashion proving to me that if this was in fact a Disney movie he proves better suited for the villain. But lately, I guess as a sign that I am maturing, or my awful dating patterns are evolving, sooner or later, I realize the errors of my ways. Sooner or later I have an epiphany and realize I had not been seeing this person for their true self, but rather their ideal self, the self that for whatever reason they are not able to be, or maybe they never will be. More aptly put the self that I want them to be, and have created for them.

I always say that I try to see the best in people. But lately I am realizing that maybe it isn't that I try to see the best in people, but I try to make people the best fit for me. I try to will the men I date to be there for me, say the right thing at the right time. I give them proverbial open doors for them to walk right into and say that perfect thing, or extend the perfect gesture at the exact moment I need it. And when it doesn't happen, doesn't fall into place the way I imagined it I am always left feeling let down. Let down that the Prince didn't hand me the glass slipper I ever so coyly dropped in his doorway. No, he stepped right over it not even realizing it was there. I am left feeling let-down, disappointed and hobbling on one foot.

The sad truth is maybe nobody is perfect. Maybe there is no such thing as perfect love. Or love at all. Maybe if you are lucky enough to find someone whose companionship is at best tolerable and even pleasurable then you got it made. I think the real essence of my struggle might lie within myself. Maybe the root of my problem really lies in my inability to be happy. I am always left unsatisfied and wanting more...

Not 17

She is not 17 anymore
Her hair isn't wavy and her lipstick isn't smeared
She only smokes 2 cigarettes on a bad day and puts the rest of the pack away
She stopped staring out windows watching strangers walk by
Inventing her own stories for their fascinating lives

She doesn't bite her nails or take knives to her wrist
She doesn't cut school or chase boys trying to get a kiss
She doesn't runaway from the demons at her back
She doesn't dwell on all the things she used to think she lacked

Emotions don't control her the way that they once did
She doesn't try to avoid growing up, pretending that she is still a kid.
She pays no mind to the women whose sole purpose is to make a normal girl feel bad
She doesn't make lists of things that she wishes she had

There are days she walks down streets now with her head held high
Nights she can fall asleep without feeling compelled to cry
Moments she can take in deeply, like a breath of fresh air
She surrounds herself with people who she knows genuinely care

She isn't depriving herself daily of food or joy
Her world isn't ruled by the opinion of all the high school boys
Her body is stronger and her mind more stable
Allowing herself to feel happy of that she knows that she is able.