Here’s What I’m Thinking

My day today wasn’t anything special, I did chores, I straighten up my room, I listened to music and I danced. I had radical bursts of happiness. I didn’t miss anyone, I don’t feel particularly alone, or confused or weighted down by life and school. Yes, I have assignments coming up and that are due in a couple of days, but I’m still trying to keep an open mind.

Anyway, I had a good day, by myself. But then you came and I was happy, I felt as though I was oddly complete because my person was here. My best friend, was here, unexpectedly. But here’s the thing. I was fine before you came and I always love when you do, but times like tonight, you leave me messed up… I have all these thoughts and feelings that I can do nothing with. I have this weird numbness, this feeling in the center of my being that I would be love to not exist. You came into my day and I was happy but then you made things so complicated, we made things complicated. You made me think too much, you made feel raw. You made me try to understand the sum of all my feelings and yours again, in one sitting. Your silence alone makes me weary of how deep the talk goes and how many times we’ve had it. Even now I’m talking in circles. My feelings about you are so simple but together we make them complicated. Even simplifying it gives way to a tone of heartbreak or a ‘break’ simply put.

The Chalk Mural

Confused by her thoughts, she seeks solace, anywhere, but most specifically in her creating things. She finds herself horribly unhappy, wanting to burst out of herself. The music, once a heavenly chorus of sound, dulls. It begins to lose it’s flavor. Its sound doesn’t bind her the way it used to. Once she has tasted it over and over, she finds it has become boring. The voices the rhythms, still beautiful but not enough to pull her out of this state. He emotions become like quicksand, the sadness pulling her down, deeper and deeper until the more she smiles and breathes the worse it gets. She is accustomed to being sad or that dreadful “D” word that most creatives suffer on and off, but this time it felt different.

Her sadness had taken on a new taste, a new sting. She had been fighting for so long to find herself, to find her passion and life. Now the ironic blunder that life is had offered her this ridiculous, yet oddly satisfying thought- had her unhappiness, her restlessness and emptiness become her passion? (she laughs)  Was she now in a strange way finding that her passion  is in the searching for it? Now there’s an idea. She’d been searching for something to call her own, find her place, her talent, only to  realize or come to belief that she had been incomplete. She loved writing, but it scared her, so she could no longer finish new pieces. She loved photography once, but could not keep up with the technology, the science behind it. She loved making things, useful crafts, but she found herself with less means to make them, so was stuck, searching for the next DIY, while she dreamed of full pockets and shopping sprees to the nearest or most convenient art shop. She had her eye on those cans of glitter spray paint and that fabric paint was calling her. But she needed to plan and wait…for full enough pockets.

She loved singing and always dreamed of recording music, but something was never in her to know how to do it. Singing was another failed talent, (she thinks) and she now has this fear of losing her voice. She croaks slightly while singing along to her favorite songs. She frowns as Sam Smith comes on and she can barely, (she thinks) keep a decent tune. She is utterly afraid of ending up like that lady she once saw featured on Humans of New York, who had never found her passion in life. Could that be her? She wonders daily. God, lord what is she going to do when this final semester is over?! What will she do with her life? Will her struggle end? Will see finally dance, make things to her heart’s content, record a few songs, perform her poetry or write that book she had been wanting to for most of her life? What will she become? What will she be? Will she ever know? I pray she gets all the answers she’s looking for as she begins another strange distraction- her lonely scattered, chalk mural.

Let there be flowers and poetry and let all good things bloom on your life. Let all things bloom beautifully.

Angela Valerie

Dad’s Hugs

This is a short tale of the thing I miss the most in life, my father’s hugs.

My father’s hugs were my favorite because, he was tall and buff. He lifted weights often and he had bulging biceps and broad shoulders, the stuff awesome man hugs were made for. He’d never refuse my hugs or say anything to distract from the hug. I would happily listen to his heart beats, counting them in my head and if he happened to be drinking something, I’d listen to the way his stomach gurgled. Yes it’s a tad weird, but I kinda liked doing that, hearing the strangeness that goes on inside someone’s body as they hug you. I would have moments of awe and appreciation, thinking that the person I loved most was this fantastically made.

My dad was the biggest mystery to me and still is. I know nothing about his childhood or his life as a parent to my much older siblings before me, but I was proud to have my dad. I was proud to have both parents living in the same house…that was saying a lot. In my primary school days, you’d mostly hear about my classmates’ mothers, but you seldom hear about their fathers. It was their mothers who dropped them and picked them up from school. It was their mothers who ran the household, punished them, and who had to come in school when teachers called to complain. I even used to wonder if their dads even existed. I remember one time, my mom couldn’t pick me up from school, so my dad came instead, for what must have been the first time (can’t really remember if it was) but I when I saw him, his big muscles, his jheri curl reaching just around the top of the door frame, i could hide my excitement. I was so excited and so proud (and also wanted to rub it in my classmates face because my dad was awesome) that I ran to him and hugged him tightly. It was only afterwards I realized that maybe I should’ve dialed it down a little, try to be cool, like Yeah…you know what’s up, that’s MY dad! It will always be one of my fondest memories of him. I don’t even remember anything else about the memory except for how I felt and seeing him standing there at door with his signature crooked smile. I was a proud, happy daddy’s girl, all I wanted to be in those days.

Anyways i said, his hugs were awesome, and these days during my youth struggle, my mid-life crisis or whatever, no one in the world could give me a more satisfying hug than the one I wish I could have from my dad right now.

Happy New Year- New Challenges Ahead

You know how everyone says “new year, new me” ? Well over the years I’ve come to the detest the very thought or mention of such a phrase. I did something different for the New Year this time and spent it away from home, on a beach…weed in the air, alcohol on the brain, sand beneath my feet and the most annoying DJ and set ever, yet still I stood up and tried my very best to stay awake and alert. This was what I wanted, I’ve craved adventure, and fun and loud music and a beach and I was getting it, almost comically.

The year started off for me in a new space, new people and I was all chilled and mellow, but still I had this feeling in the back of my mind. I was uneasy. For me like many people, I imagine, the new year means change and big things, big scary things and more decisions to make. Everything is going up another level and though Tobago’s beautiful air, distracted me from that anxiety that is my constant companion, I came home and as I walked out the Port, I succumbed to the now unmuted anxiety. New Year means change, and here I was thinking, very unenthusiastically, it’s just the end of another full rotation around the sun…no big deal. But it is a big deal. It’s my last semester, my last shot to fix my gpa. My last chance to figure out what the hell i’m doing with my life! I’m freaking out about it just typing it.

The soothing sounds of Michael Jackson’s ‘You Rock My World’ keep things at bay. For now. But Yesterday I actually put together a list of resolutions, my first in years and it’s a step in the right direction. I’ve got lots of work to do and it feels like a there’s only a little time left to accomplish them. So here’s my thought process… my pressure builds and i list things.

Here’s what I know for sure.
I am in my twenties and I haven’t found what I’m truly passionate about.
Fear has kept me from doing anything worthwhile.
I am financially challenged (like lots of peeps in my generation)
I am afraid I’ll end up doing and being nothing.

Sometimes when I’m on the edge of this fear, these thoughts, I find a little ball of light that switches it around to say the opposite and I get Excited.

I am Young, I have all the time in the world to do many things. I will have so many experiences and learn about so much.
I will use my fear as a reason to work harder to do things, the more it scares me, the more i will want to try.
I may not have all the money I need to do things, but I will make do with what I have and don’t have.
I am a late bloomer, I am a blank slate, which means I am in an exciting time in my life where I can make myself into whatever I want and try different things, just because i’ve never tried them before. I am in a age of new.

I constantly need to remind myself… ‘Self, calm down, deep breaths, listen, think, remember what we talked about. Don’t get carried away.’ and thus my anti- negative list was born…again.
If you feel as I do, share your thoughts with me. If you understand the insanity and have survived…please don’t hesitate to throw a life raft. I struggle, but I ain’t that badly off as Trinis say.
Have any kind words to offer?

Angela.
Have an Awesome Year Anyways!

I have an Issue- Pathetic Sundays That Holidays

I gotten used to having your around. And now that you’re busy and school is about to open again, I feel more distant from than ever. It bothers me how much it bothers me. We’re a complicated collective yes, and we’ve talked about our complicated friend-boyfriend-girlfriend-bestfriend-lovers drama a million times. We’re together but not together, we kiss, hold hands, trash talk, hug and have our own little corner of existence where we and we alone could free ourselves from the social constructs that we have often been bided by.

Now here we are in our little peace of heaven and understanding and I feel like you’re suddenly too far away.
I feel like i’ m moving while standing still and I think about you way too much in the past two weeks. You’re going on and we’re whatsappin everyday but I want you around more, I want you and I to co out and shit and I could feel like we’re actually spending time, instead of just casually at my house or waiting for me when the meeting is over.

I have an issue with wanting you around too much.
I have an issue with thinking about you at the end of all my thoughts
wondering what you’re doing and if and when you’re going to be in the vicinity of my house.

I think I need to not need you so much.
I need to just go back into the void and talk to other people.
I think I just need to shut, and make new friends.

That Feeling

There’s that feeling again. It starts with seeing the words “We need to talk” The signifier followed by a million and one mental concepts so hard and so stuffy that I find myself slowly unable to breathe. I think, ‘please God don’t let my heart break.” I look down at my chest, and I feel like it’s swollen for no reason. No good reason. I’m overreacting because in my experience those words are the beginning of me sitting on the edge of my bed asking God to take away my feelings. I’m thinking about Regina the Evil Queen from Once Upon a Time and I imagine pulling out my crimson magical, glowing heart and stuffing it in a box. Seriously, it’s hard trying to tell yourself “you’re being ridiculous, nothing’s wrong. You’re strong, you’re a survivor. You are not weak.” and then my chest just about cracks open, like someone prying it open with the other side of a hammer. it’s like my heart decides it wants to control everything while being horrible at managing, and my mind, my talks, my logic goes unheard.

I am a logical, rational thinking human being. I am a kind-hearted easy-going, romance loving young woman. I cry at all those soft moments in a movie. When Steve Rogers, Captain America visits his aged, dying love interest in the hospital, I’m looking into his blue eyes and I could feel that annoying tingling sensation that comes with a stream of tears. I’m that person in the dark of the theatre that has to look around while I try to conceal, even from my best friend sitting next to me, that I random tear escaping. The end of The Amazing Spider-Man I had to hide my face. I was silent and devastated.

So now, there’s nowhere to hide. no dark to bow my head into. No empty seat to my left that I could bend over and ‘pretend’ that i’m looking for the piece of my ticket, as I wipe my tears. Or pretend that suddenly in the freezing theater, i’m hit with a wave of heat and have to ‘wipe my face’ It’s funny when I think about it now. Even writing it makes it even more absurd. But that feeling when your chest hurts and you can’t breathe, because everything you’re hearing, everything you’re experiencing is just about to rip the world right out from under you.

I’m sitting opposite my bed, listening to music and and i’m trying to calm myself down, I’m telling myself how ridiculous i’m being, how silly and weak i am to cry at something so out of my control. I start blaming myself for getting close, too close, for allowing myself to get comfortable with my mediocre life. I blame myself for deciding that I was okay being who I was, not wanting more, not being ambitious enough or more outgoing. I blamed myself for being careless with my own feelings, trying to get my brain to snap me out of this absurd and uncomfortable feeling.

The irony is, I hate crying, but it comes so naturally to me. Sad movies they get to me, The Notebook, P.S I Love You…Ghost. It devastates me over and over again…And here I am hunched over thinking, if only I didn’t have to feel. If only I could remove my heart for a little while and then put it back later when I’m strong enough. If only I wasn’t so ‘soft-hearted’… Then the fear comes, this fear of having to go through it all over again at another time and place, I can nearly being to imagine the hurt I would have to experience time and time again…this feeling, the loss of appetite, the upset stomach, the moments when your mind just wanders over and over.
That hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach and that tightness in your chest that just gets tighter when you breathe or when you fight tears more. I want to keel over and let go, but i’m afraid of the idea of me crying, it reminds me of all the times I lost something, something big, all the terrible news i was told and the pain amplifies. I just hope I can stop.

Bench Sitting

My day started off nicely. I woke up later than I was supposed to, I was oddly in a good mood, my niece’s were leaving for Paris (of which I was infinity jealous. I freaking love Paris, though I’ve never been out of the Caribbean.) It was my final exam today and I was not prepared, I had no hope for an A, but I had made my peace, I was prepared to walk the plank and swim if need be. I had been for the most part in some sort of happiness. I am now convinced this was a weird symptom of my anxiety, cause exams scare me more than anything. 

I recalled a post some great guy made on Facebook about a week ago… something about not being defined by a grade and I took it to heart because I knew all too well that all students struggle with this idea of an exam being the deciding factor of their total life worth. Yeah, so cue my awesome idea for having the words “I am not my grade!” printed on a tee. I was prepared to build my empire this way. Let’s take the shit we experience and make it an artistic statement od some sort. Anyways, my exam was at hand and I was in a mood. 

I left got in to a taxi and the driver (unknown to me as I buckled my seatbelt and said ‘good morning’) says “Morning dumping.” he asks me if I heard him, and I smile, i’m never open to conversations with strangers, but for some reason just by the way he spoke to me, I could tell he was cool. he was kind and I smiled thinking to myself yeah I must be looking good with ma headscarf on and my cool one and only film crew t-shirt” “you going shopping?” I’m like no, I have an exam and he gives me this look to which I narrate as if he would be thinking “looking so good?” I smile again. I felt awkward but awesome. We have a brief conversation about my exam, my field of study and a joke about winning the lottery. He asks “So you go give me a Bligh?” I smile shyly, “maybe” He laughs and responds “You know I now saying I would a bless you…” meaning that he would have shared some of his winnings…I think momentarily… what if he did win and we met again and he would offer. I’m thinking nope, i can’t accept his money, but at the same time I’m thinking, man i’m broke! Lord knows the lottery would be a blessing. 

Some how meeting this kind taxi driver restores some faith in humanity and in myself. I remembering him telling me after asking if I would go away to study “doh worry, the opportunity will come” And I started thinking, I’ll live by those words and trust that I’ll be able to leave my small life behind and live in my big dreams. Until my mother tells my that my sister’s kids are leaving for France, I’m feeling lost and left behind, because I remember when I had all these dreams of going to these places. Of watching these movies and imagining what the air would feel like, what having a window over looking the city and with a view of the Eiffel tower would be like… I was envious…but I had to let me self remember my own words of wisdom. don’t give up. your time will come. your time will come.