London Bridge

“Shoot for the moon.  Even if you miss, you’ll fall amongst the stars.”  I don’t know who wrote this but OBVIOUSLY they never fell off a bike.  I didn’t fall amongst the stars but I did see stars.  Stars and birds and the tops of trees as I came crashing down to earth like the space shuttle on re-entry.   Yesterday was supposed to be my first century ride. I was ready but should have known it was going to be one of those days. Got to the site, all the air gone out my back tire. Gone.  Flat like snakeskin road kill.  No puncture, everything in tack. Get out the pump and I’m pumping and nothing. The tube isn’t catching, holding air. Thankfully Ed- the bike mechanic was on site. This caused me to miss the century start but I was going to do it anyway, just start later. Met up with some RWB people I know and rode out with them. Hadn’t even gone 10 miles, coming up the hill and I couldn’t tell you what happened to save my life. I was spinning, moving and all of a sudden that Ninja who jumps out and trips people, yeah, I think he got me. Tire went one way, bike went another and over I went. I was clipped in and the bike skidded out from under me and I thought my leg was getting detached below the knee. The pull from the bike pulled my left calf so hard, I fell back and landed on my elbow, butt/back. I was in a bike figure four. I hit the ground so hard my body looked like a chalk outline. Tried to get up and the Ninja grabbed that calf with a hot pair of tongs. You just don’t realize how secure you are clipped in to the bike until it’s time to fall.  I hobbled out of the road and got myself together. Off we go. I got separated from the RWB group and at the second rest stop I checked to see the damage. Bike was fine, there was/is a clicking that wasn’t there before so getting that looked at but my elbow was bleeding. Cleaned it up and went in my way. These weren’t hills. Nothing like what Atlanta has but they are false hills. You think you’re at the top, nope, not even close. Everything tightened up and I ran off the side of the road. Y’all know ain’t no curbs or shoulders on these rides. Lost the cap on my water bottle, nutrition splashing everywhere, lost then found my phone.  After the time spent searching for the bottle cap then the lost and found phone, I knew I wouldn’t make cutoff for the century so I decided to finish up with the metric. 13 miles left and there’s another false hill. Had to walk it. I felt like I was on the Autobahn, so many twists and turns. There was a turtle in the middle of the road, just chilling and I damn near ran off the road again trying to avoid him. About 3 miles left and I hear a truck coming up behind me. No big deal but dude didn’t get over as much as he could, so I was treated to a pebble shower. Now I have a knot and road rash on my elbow, my left side feels like I was at 2-a-day football practice and the bruise on my butt and hip looks like I was branded.  Wait, looks more like a medium done steak.  Just enough pink in the center and yes, quite tender.  Bright side is I did better my time from when I did 65 on my hybrid. Even though I was busted up, still had my gloss cuz, you know, I got priorities. . Oh and did I mention the bees that took a liking to my bike and ride with me, yeah, like I can out run a bee. It has been a day but I did not die. .

 

I’m always up for getting out of my comfort zone.  Getting out of my comfort zone shouldn’t involve bumps, bruises, slips, trips and falls; at least not to me.  Didn’t think I fell that hard but my body proved me wrong.  Another good thing is, since I was going to miss the century cutoff, I really got plenty of opportunities to practice shifting.  Yes, I got it down.  Coming off a nice descent, I was able to shift and maintain going up the hill.  SCORE!!

You should learn something every day.  I learned:  my nutrition program works, a little salt in my hydration won’t hurt, my shifting practice paid off and hills will always humble you.  John Mayer said it best “Gravity.  Stay the hell away from me.”  Now to sit back and re-evaluate, re-strategize but for now, I’m going to relax and ice my numb parts, massage the sore spots and continue to be a bright spot.  #whatails – a sore arm, hip, butt among other areas.

 

Run. Alice!!

Alice in Wonderland is a movie that I enjoy watching.  I don’t really have favorites because a favorite implies something that you never tire of watching.  I tire easily.

Though she be absent, my grand and I still have conversations. She had sleep technical difficulties and I, being her twin, inherited it. Restless Spirit is what I call it.  She and I are talking now.   It’s 12:26 AM and I can’t sleep and I have an idea why.  I’m not living/doing my purpose.  Not for lack of effort on my part, well maybe a little bit.  There’s this little thing called Adulting that I must engage in.  Some people my age, older and younger just say eff it and ignore the Rules of Adulting (RoA) all together.  They usually have a parent(s) who pick up the slack or some schmuck who is ok Adulting for them.  Yeah, I don’t have that luxury.  I’ve been Adulting since about age 7.  Nothing new, plenty of kids start Adulting way sooner than required.  No complaints, but hell, Adulting is exhausting and no one tells you the RoA because if you start as a kid, it’s basically OJT.   I get it now how people go absolutely BatCrap doing something they are good at that they don’t want to do.  I’m good at a lot of things, G-d made me that way.  I could/would excel (and normally do) at everything because I pick things up easily but if the heart isn’t in it, it’s just like mashing peas – a waste.

I feel like a slave.  No, that’s a lie.  I have no idea what it feels like to be a slave.  I can only project the images of what slave life was like onto my current situation.  Having to jump when someone says jump.  Answer the phone, respond, speak at the sound of the beep or else.  The work, I initially believed in but it became as mundane as running on the treadmill and worse yet, yielded no benefits.  Least you can reap gains from da mill.  It has become obsolete, as productive as the hamster on the wheel – it/I am going/go nowhere.

To some I may sound ungrateful but who cares.  Not asking you to agree, understand or even read.  I’m writing this because it’s what I’m supposed to do, called to do.  Simply, what I do.  Every day I leave my home and particularly on the weekend, I see a world that I resent. There, standing on the corner, every corner is someone begging.  Old people, young people, individuals, teams, everybody wants something.  Jesus said give to all who ask.  Obviously, he was talking to/about the middle class.  We give to every body.  No body gives us shit.  The rich give to themselves and/or other rich.  The poor, hell, everybody gives to the poor.  Who gives to the middle class?  The Middle Class. We – The MC pours into every class/caste/population on Earth/America and people wonder why/how we’re running on empty.  One can only run off of blood/sweat/piss/tears for so long. People get tired.  I.  Am.  Tired.

I listen to Republicans, Democrats, Green party, Tea party, coke party, choke party, IDFAF party and every one in between.  Every one saying the same thing about the same issues about the same people.  Social Security (what exactly is that again?), Healthcare (even working people can’t afford that), Education (pre/elementary/high/post secondary/higher) let’s be honest – everybody isn’t cut out for school and just should go,  Children (this might get me some enemies but Everyone does not love the kids), Military (we’ve got to do better by our Vets) – what else is there?  Everyone talking about “Make America great again” or “America is already great”  Listen, America, if that’s her real name, can take care of herself, if we let her.  She’s been around since before Jesus was born and was, by all accounts, doing pretty well.  We humans have a way of getting hold of something and completely removing all evidence of what it once was – pure, simple, good.  I remember when I came of age to vote, there was a saying going around during election time “Ask yourself if you’re better off now than you were 4 years ago.”  I never quite understood that because the person sitting in the Oval Office had absolutely nothing to do with where I was or would be going in the span of 4 years.  Wait, I take that back, they had a hand in how hard it would be for me to maneuver, but even that was still up to me.  That question only really mattered to rich people and poor people.  Middle class people; technically, we’re still the same.  Time has marched on, we’ve aged, we’ve lost, we’ve gained (maybe) but we’re still pouring into others and no one, it seems, is pouring into us.

People die at the hands of each other.  People die at the hands of another.  Those in power should know better.  Those who want power should do better.  Let’s keep it real – No lives matter.  If they did, we’d do better by the people who are living, trying to live, trying.

Funny thing is, this isn’t even me writing this.  I mean, I good, don’t get me wrong, but when you get in the zone, when words, lyrics, energy flows without need for breath,  food, air, you MUST KNOW that it is something Not of This World.   I’ve always believed that, which is why I say I’m GoodWithPen (none good but the Father, from whom this gift flows).  I was hesitant about letting my gift flow because, you know, that whole Adulting BS but this is my test of faith (that’s a whole different story).  I may get fired but I haven’t said anything implicating, merely voiced my opinion, which I actually put down on my recent evaluation, lol.   I understand why people (who have money) are hesitant to take stand on political issues.  They’ve got a lot to lose but my faith ain’t always been high. Always been there, lurking beneath the surface like algae, catfish, termites under the crawlspace.  Can’t see it, can’t hear it, but you know it’s there.  My faith is private.  You should see my faith my actions. So when I see people in positions who do/don’t speak out, that, to me, is an exercise of faith.  If you lose something because you stood up for (what you believe to be/have been) injustice, do you believe He will restore what you lost?  Fence straddling, waffling, pan flipping, coal jumping it can be dangerous and if nothing else, looks exhausting.  It’s akin to going to a buffet and standing in front of the menu board for hours because you’re afraid to make a decision.  To make a choice.  What if I choose wrong?  You can send it back, throw it away, give it away.  Speak out, that could mean death, take that how you will.

I am not oppressed.  More restricted but again, the whole Adulting thing but I’m making strides to get back to Childing, you know when you could do shit and it be excused because you were a kid.  Be like Ryan Locte- embarrass an entire nation and be given ample opportunities.  Let’s see how many opportunities come my way should this be viewed as embarrassing.  Let’s see if I can Locte this to my advantage (yes, he has become a verb).

I’m sure there are plenty of people who have similar feelings, sentiments, thoughts, etc.  Maybe not as deep, maybe deeper, maybe not at all.  At times, most times, the majority of the time Do you care?  Really?  Do you feel what you do is making a difference?  Be the change you want to see in the world?  That drop in the ocean gets lost and add no value to rivers, lakes and streams fed by the ocean.  The ocean does not need our tears.  It, like America was/is self-sufficient until we got involved.

I had the opportunity once to chat with someone who confided that they’d contemplated self-murder.  I asked why.  Their answer was one of mutual feeling.  “The world is such a shitty place to each other, I get sad every time I see it.”  I found it to be the saddest, most truthful thing anyone had every said to me.  People don’t like truth.  No matter how it’s delivered, and my delivery can be comically brash at times, but hey, whatever.

I recall working at the post office just after graduation and we couldn’t talk but we could listen to music.  People would listen to, the now defunct Don Immus – you remember him.  He called a woman’s basketball team a group of “nappy headed whoes” or something to that effect.  But during his show, when readers would call in, most would predictably and cheerfully and regularly ask him “How are you?” and his response is something I’ve followed to this day.  He would say “Do you care?”  Why are you asking how a person is?  Because society dictates it’s the polite thing to do.  Really, do you care?  Be honest.  No.  Why?  Because you have your own troubles to care about and that person’s troubles may be just a bit too much for you to bear.  Or, maybe they just don’t want to hear it.  Maybe, they just, don’t care.  And you know what, that’s really ok.  Don’t say things you don’t mean.  Don’t give people false hope.  Don’t pretend to be something that you aren’t.  If you don’t like something or someone, there has to be a reason.  Whether or not that reason makes sense to someone else, doesn’t matter.  Those are your feelings, they are valid.  Own them, don’t run or hide from them.  Be true to yourself.  Few of us can do that, particularly women, for we may be labeled a bitch.  Well, be a bitch and make no apologies for it.  Don’t be a dick, that’s just unnecessary.  Just because you hold power and can wield it, doesn’t mean you should.  Exercise discretion.  Exercise restraint.

It’s now 1:56AM and my grand and I are still conversing.  My RHEMAn is still at work and I am tired but still the music flows.  Music.  The universal G-d. Accepted by everyone in some form.

“Just like fire, burning out the way, if I could light the world up for just one day

Watch this madness, colorful charade, no one can be just like me anyway

Just like magic,  I’ll be flying free, Imma disappear when they come for me

I kick that ceiling what you gonna say, no one can be just like me anyway.” Pink

 

G-d gave Noah a sign.  No more water, The Fire Next Time.

Are ya sure?

Recently, I’ve noticed an annoying habit of some people.  Ever been having a conversation or teaching someone something and as you are explaining, they interrupt you with what they think is the answer or what they think you are going to say or with some inappropriate “Yeah” or “Okay” or “I was going to say that” or some other complete annoying Askholish thing.  I can’t be bothered with people like that.  Some say “well you’re speaking too slow, I’m just trying to move the conversation along”  Ok.  Well, how about I let you fill in the blanks, as you see fit and let you run with it.  When it turns out you’re wrong – and you will be because I’m not going to correct you or tell you that’s not correct or tell you that’s not what I was going to say – and you return to me in an uproar because you feel that I did you a disservice because I didn’t tell you were wrong because you told me “Yeah”, “Okay” or otherwise kept filling in the blanks for me, I will politely reply – “But I never told you that information, that is what you told me.  I took it to mean you just wanted confirmation not information, so I gave you what you wanted.”

If you ask someone a question, wait for the response.  That person didn’t approach you, you made a request so if you no longer need/want the answer, say nevermind, or thanks but I don’t need your assistance anymore but to ask then keep interrupting with your own answers/responses/or the lame ass Yeah/Okay, then you have no one to blame but yourself. What you should know is that once it happens, all other times, the information given to you should be considered tainted because I personally wouldn’t waste my time giving you information that I know you aren’t listening to.  Call me Petty, I’m ok with it but to quote somebody i don’t even know -youbroughtitonyourself lol.

May I offer you a suggestion, may want to take a class, it’s under communications – The Lost Art of STFU 101.

#whatailsya

Sour Grapes – an excerpt from Thread for Mending a Broken Soul

I wrote this in 2002, 2003 during a dark period in my life and in the lives of some of my G-d friends.  Relationships are tough.  Me, my friends, strangers I came into contact with; we were all going through, so I put our misery into words.  This is what evolved.  Hopefully it will help someone.

Why are women so bitter? How many times have you heard that line? Why, are women so bitter?

Funny how it’s always a man asking that questions.  They just don’t understand.  They think bitterness is a 24-hour process.  No honey, that’s not how it works.  It takes time to make a good bitter woman.  It’s a slow process.  A slow, hard, and painful  process.  Let me tell you how it starts.

First, she meets him.  Be he:

Handsome/cute/ok/damn right ugly

Rich/doing ok/making it/barely making it/never made it

Single/attached/married/divorced

Fatherless/1 child/king of procreation

Passive/aggressive/abusive

 

He may have:

A car/a bike/a bus pass/a good friend/several pairs of rocked over shoes

A house/ some houses/an apartment-condo/living with a roommate/living with his mama/living in a box

Higher education/book sense/common sense/the village idot

An addiction/a condition/a fickle disposition

A career/a job/ a hustle/ a cup

Regardless of his plight, there is a woman out there for him.  A good woman.  A good thing.

You meet him. You like him.  You date him.  You fall in love with him.  You live with him. You marry him.  You break up/divorce him.  You hate him.

Somewhere between dating and hating, the process begins.

You think you two are partners.  If one has, the other has.  That’s just the way it is.  A good woman stands beside her man.  You help him build, if he has nothing.  You help him build upon what he has, if he already has something.

You clean him up, if this is the case, or compliment his style with your own stunning grace.  You  help him land a job, sometimes he has two.  He might be financially sound, even better for yo.  If he got kids, you deal with the baby mama drama.  Sometimes he has more than one, that’s a whole other drama.  Life seems pretty good, he’s come a long way  Nothing liek the man he used to be back in the day.

ARE YOU STARTING TO GET A FUNNY TASTE IN YOUR MOUTH?

All of a sudden, life gets a little rough.  You figure, ya’ll will make it, he’s a man, built tough. First the change in attitude, then the coming home late.  Giving all his time to another, always making you wait. Comes home/calls you up one day and says he’s got something to tell you.  Claims he wants to be on his own, you and he are through.

Hold up now, what about all my effort, sweat, tears and time?  What about they years wasted, all my spent dollars, pennies and dimes?

Tsk. Tsk.  THAT TASTE IS GETTING STRONGER.

We support our man, indifferent, good, or bad, but all he can think about it what he could have had.  What he could have had.  Shiiidd, without me, he’d probably have  nothing. Still be trying to keep me quiet, while we’re in the room at his mama’s/roommates/my house fucking.

The tears are starting to flow and snot is starting to drip. Best get your shoes and leave because I may just start to trip.  The day of reckoning is here, had just about all you can stand.  Fed up, exasperated, you take your hand and fan.

It’s not you, it’s me.  Don’t want to be together any more.  I feel used, betrayed, like a common cheap whore.

The process is complete, your bitter woman has been formed

A product of man, a life he did born.

Marvel at the life, that man hath given birth.  The once sweet, now bitter woman, a Man’s greatest work.

 

 

From Thread for Mending a Broken Soul.  #whatailsya

Soul to Soul

One sure fire way to tell a writer is the number of notebooks, excess scraps of paper, iPad notes, etc., that are filled with enough words, sentences, paragraphs and such to fill a small library.  You have to get it down, Maxwell style: Whenever, Wherever, Whatever.  At least that’s the way it is for me because my writing isn’t of me.  So imagine the chuckles, questions and the outright mindblowing conversation I engaged in when this thought was placed in my head/on my heart.  Psalm 23, particularly, the beginning.  The L-rd is my Shepherd, I shall not want.  Really?  Really.  C’mon  Papa’, we all want something, even Jesus wanted and still wants.  Right now or then, when you gave me this thought, I wanted to get it out and down but it wasn’t time.  Whenever I pray, I want, to be closer to you.  When I’m in distress, I want, you to be close to me.  Seems I really do live in the Land of Plenty and in Want.  I think you like it that way.  You are so funny.

The very fact that I acknowledge that I want may mean I really don’t because I really do have all I need.  If all I want, is all I need. And all I need, is all I want; well everything is canceled out and I’m no better, no worse, I’m just fine.  Yeah, I don’t always feel fine because life here on Earth can be pretty rough some times and it gets hard to remember that what I want and what I need are one in the same.

“Back to life. Back to reality…However do you want me.  However do you need me.”  Is that a question or a statement? Who’s doing the asking/making the statement?  Is it the Shepherd or the sheep?  Both want something.  IJS.

Take this past weekend.  I wanted a different outcome, didn’t get it.  I want peace on Earth. I want, I want, I want.  And don’t tell me that’s not what it means.  Want, as it relates to the humanity, only has 1 definition.  Wanting, like quitting, gets a bad name.  You have to put it in perspective, that’s why there is more than one translations besides the KJV.  Still, it’s true that when you examine what you have, you’ll find you have what you need and what you need is actually, what you want.  Maybe, lol.  Papa’ sure is funny.

#whatailsya