polarity
I'm a liar and an asshole. I said I'd get the rest of my site up and blog daily last week. I was trying to pressure myself into it by declaring it publically, but it still didn't work. in my defense, I am really going through some mental strenuousness right now. you ever just...don't know what to do with yourself? like theres just enough space on earth for everyone on earth but you? I feel like theres not enough air for me to even breathe sometimes. I've been randomly bursting into tears in public...on the train, at work, yet not when I'm alone...I guess I like to be watched...some variety of unintentional masochistic exhibitionism (I freak them multi-syllabic words like a champ). ever have an itch that you couldn't scratch...the kind that is somewhere buried underneath your skin unattainable, subtle...but itching nonetheless? these 2am metaphors are so lazy.
love and hate are varying degrees of the same element according to the kybalion's principle of polarity...good and evil as well which is...ironic. well, at least in the book of huny (how cliche'...perhaps I should've rolled with "the world according to huny c. young" or better still "everything huny says is right and if you disagree you've the intellect of a whale's vagina"...still working out the kinks on the latter) where who you are and what you embody is as simple as choice. it's so much harder to be honest and good, trustworthy and loving...that's the exact reason why there's such great reward for those that accomplish it despite polarity and the natural struggle between dark and light that accompanies every heartbeat. I'm frankly sick of boxing the same round with chastity in one corner and devilishness in the other being pulled and wooed and fooled by both but I do it because I'm not lazy enough to just sit down and be overtaken. and I realize this is a throwback to my days of constant, incessant, annoyingly crypic zen-like hoo-hawing but I couldn't elaborate right now if I wanted to. what I'm upset about is so abstract right now...I'm just waiting patiently for it's approach when I can see it clear and know exactly what it is I'm dealing with. just...nod your head like you follow cause thats what I've been doing. just following. the road to hell is paved with good intentions. "lo barato siempre sale caro" - the cheapest option always ends up being the most expensive. cliche's are widely accepted and repeated truths and they make you sound wise an shit.
it's hard to admit depression when you have a new seed...feels kinda ungrateful for the whole miracle of life being bestowed upon me an shit dynamic. but it's not post-partum variety depression; infact, my daughter makes my life worth living. I can never be sad when I'm with her. she turned six months old this week and she has a little shard of a tooth starting to push through on the bottom...when she laughs I can see it sticking up. she's also very close to mastering the fine art of crawling. she grabs everything and subsequently tries to put everything in her mouth. she has spit up soy formula in my mouth while I was giving her a kiss...she has dribbled her baby spit all over my face and chest and neck. and after taking short moments to shudder in faux-disgust, I go back to kissing and hugging her, steady the course despite her penchant for excessive drool. I love my daughter insane; everything I do is for her. it's this anvil of responsibility I feel that makes it all the more hard to admit when I am overwhelmed. there is no staying in bed buried underneath blankets curled in a ball of self-pity when its feeding time nahmean. my life is so different now but I'm kinda diggin the whole dichotomy...I feel skilled playing the madonna/whore balancing act.
I shouldn't be awake right now...its retardedly irresponsible of me to be awake right now. I'm going to be exhausted in the morning and I have a meeting. I've been exhausted all week. sleep is wack. I would get so much more done if I didn't have to sleep at all. up until I graduated from howard, staying up all night was cake but now it's impossible. I'm using very sporadic and short sentences because I'm tired and the longer my sentences get the easier it is for me to forget completely what I was talking about, what the point was, and by the time I get to the end of the sentence I don't really even recall what the beginning was even about. point is...I'm staying up late for the sole purpose of getting out all the negative words dirtying my bloodstream because I will not allow that shit to fuck up my weekend. last weekend was gobbage and a repeat performance gets rotten tomatoes and thumbs firmly in the downward position. I think after work tomorrow I'ma accompany blue to the halloween spot to pick up her french maid costume...last time we were there we met two outgoing arab (actually I'm convinced they were latino now that I know their last name, but I spent the entire day assuming they were arab so for the sake of this story...arab) kats who'd just started working there. while blue tried on a plethora of oversized french maid costumes (how is something a size 16 - 24? that's a 50 pound margin. a big bitch is a big bitch is a big bitch to these manufacturers apparently) I followed some brown girl around trying to get a picture of her from the back that would properly do justice to the amazing backyard she was carrying around. theres nothing like black women, yo. this chick on myspace that has the same name as my daughter told me she heard jessica rabbit was modeled after a black woman...I said I wasn't surprised with dumps like that, hahaaa, yea! I digress. I invited the racially ambiguous pair to my halloween party. I think one of them was feeling blue, too bad she doesn't like dick cause he was attractive. so...that's where we need to venture off to tomorrow evening. then the village to finally get blue's nose stud changed out so it can stop getting caught in my child's afro when blue kisses her forehead...then the boutique with the gorgeous beaded jewelry...then the pink pussycat to ooh and ahh over sex toys I'd never purchase...then...home again...to work. sometime this weekend it is imperative I finish whipping up a sugary sex magical flyer for the halloween party I'm having on the 28th at my favorite strip club where my name is infamous on lips. I'm looking forward to it to the utmost; I miss hearing my name get shouted out from the dj booth, I miss baby oil scented strippers climbing up over the bar to kiss me on both cheeks, I miss the bartender giving me a drink on the house cause I tip well. I haven't been back there since a couple weeks into my pregnancy, however, so I can't even imagine how much it's changed. but if my boy that djs there says its still the balls, it'll be a night worth waiting for. I can't wait to be out with my bitches again looking golden brown, wet lipglossed, sexy as fuck...and it's entirely possible I will do some recruiting for my pin-up project throughout the tawdry evening. if you're in the tri-state area and you want to attend, yodel at me and I'll give you the details. don't try and show up at my shit sans costume either you wack fuckers, you better like...get you a stethescope and call yourself dr. feelgood or something cornball yet easy like that. better yet, if you're at a loss, come as "the muhfucka thats gonna buy huny drinks all night" or something. just a suggestion.
I am still awake and now it's close to 4am. I keep drifting off at my desk. I have to get up even earlier then I thought because I have to eat fruits and egg whites for breakfast in accordance with my metabolism diet. I have old sushi in my refrigerator right now sitting alongside old split pea soup and old creamed spinach...the only reason this trinity of nastiness remains in my fridge is because to dump at least the last two would mean to open the lids and smell the rotten. that being said my father thinks it's disgusting that I eat raw fish and he frequently makes gagging sounds when I talk about eating sushi. I personally think it's disgusting that he eats pork intestines and fish eggs and calls it soul food and a delicacy respectively but who's keeping score, ya know?
I'm going to go now. it's raining outside and the warmest comforter ever manufactured awaits me. I prefer to go to bed exhausted because I can't sabotage my dreams with the things that go through my head these days. I absolutely promise, barring anything extremely tragic or life-changing, the next entry will be entitled "I am bisexual". I absolutely do not promise to update everyday next week; infact I absolutely promise I won't, but I may update every other day cause I have to get rid of this backlog of text files before none of it is even relevant anymore - case in point this tidbit from a month ago:
"whenever I make niggas upset on the i-net (I tend to do that, especially on messageboards...I am argumentative and kind of a jerk) I say somethin like "okay calm down, ralph tresvant" (sensitivity) or "don't cry, carl thomas" (emotional). but I have something even better and more presently relevant [ed. note: HA!]: "don't go all 50 cent at the VMA's on me". bitchnigga! crackcrackcrack!" exhibit A why I rarely write about pop culture references...they lose relevance quicker then lauryn hill lost her marbles.