congrats

I don't know what to say except: i earned it.

atomic bombs go off in winter

"Uggg the lights flickered again," Miranda gnarled through her teeth.

Even though we drove through the rain storm if didn't seem as serious as it was going to become. Finally after flickering a few times the lights went out for good. (Blackout) And in the dark i stumbled, looking for something to create light. There was nothing - and so the typical blackout behavior began. Board games. Drinking. Sex. Drugs. I fell asleep in the pitch blackness, afraid of nothing for the first time in years.

The next day saw no changes - in fact it was worse. After downing three bottles of wine, playing with endless amounts of glow sticks, and freezing in the NH winter with no heat we decided to make this day investigative. Miranda went off to check for power on campus. She came back with news.
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" So, the deal is that the lib HAD power, but doesn't anymore. I don't have work. And the lamprey river is overflowing - - like an ocean." Miranda's eyes were huge - widened by familiarity.

Roads were closing. and the water was touching the street. The waterfall was fierce and powerful, giving energy i didn't know it had to give.
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The next day was short lived. I was so depressed and anxious that Miranda and i sat in her car for most of the day. I watched The real housewives on my ipod - Miranda read her homework. I also finished an entire bottle of wine. Swaying on my feet, and laughing much too loud in such a small space.
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When the lights came back i was fucking drunk - hopping and skipping through the house. "AH! shit, powers on!" I screamed. It couldn't have happened more perfectly because i was just thinking how I'd like to see things clearer. Once the power was back Miranda, Olivia, and I ran around turning on power strips and plugging in items that needed charging. My phone had been dead the whole time so my first instinc was to wake it up. I did, and then wished i didn't
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I fell into my fucking trash can, slid down the wall, and landed without hope. "I dont know all the details but ramone was shot and killed. I thought you should know!" a text, on my phone. I wasn't sure i was screaming until i felt my heart shaking in my chest. I was screaming in the faces of my roommates. Olivia perched at the end of the bed, and miranda knelt by my side. My face was leaking all over me. Every tear felt like hell. And then i realized, i had to tell my mother. Which was a dreaded thing. My mother and i have an problem - we tend to only exchange painful information when we speak- if we speak at all.

Her first words "I wish they never told you that. you're so sensitive."  "But mom," I quaked through my tears
"he was standing at the bus stop, shot on his way to work and then still don't know if it was robbery or mistaken identity." She shuttled me off the phone with a completely different topic, im sure we wont discuss it again.
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His house was identical to and walking distance from mine. Growing up we used the same bus stops, corner stores, and walking routes. And now another boy is dead - full of bullet holes and bleeding where we used to laugh.

if i have to bury one more black man (physically or in my mind), i am going to scream.

i wish i was strong enough to write without titles

this is one of my favorite photographs of all time. If you like "Halloween" you'll understand why this is amazing.

and ya know. i never thought i'd say this but damn it feels good to be wrong :)

Thank you notes

"i feel like everyone is cutting me off from my emotions," i squealed, " why can't i feel what i want?" It took everything in my bones to say this to my therapist yesterday.

"You seem a little down today," said Rachael "Is something wrong?" I didn't know how to tell her what was in my head.

"Ya, i woke up from a bad dream. Was feeling weird. And lately I've had some things on my mind - things that are hard to forget or put away because the impact was so huge. I want my life back!" And as Rachael sat and listened she learned more about me. She learned that i cant stand injustice - no matter how small. I spoke like i knew my feelings, like i knew right from wrong. I uncovered what has been plaguing me and disrupting me: i live a lie

My feelings about the past 3 years of my life are no big secret. I have mentioned it thousands of times as the worst years I've experience since my fathers death. I find myself always dreaming of those years - frightening dreams, night terrors. I dream of my death that was only social and symbolic in life. And i live my life as a lie. It is fake. I am forced to be fake. Close friends want me to get over it and just move on. Other people i can't even talk to because of their own affiliations. and the rest are blind. It forces me into a place of grave digging - - for me and my voice.

"Can i ask...was that when you came out?" Rachael asked the most frightening question.
"I...i think so. I hate to think about it. It makes me feel gross."
"And why's that?" Rachael said. "Because it went so badly" I uttered, "All i can associate is Ava is queer = bad! Even if that's not what it was that's how it came off. How else do you make sense of losing everything under those circumstances?"

i do not think anyone realized the impact of that. Of overshadowing my coming out with.... (this).

i want to send thank you notes - - because my rage is strong now. And i bless myself for being an angry woman

you don't know someone till you work with them

every time i see you living a seemingly normal-happy life, i die a bit. It makes me so sick that you get that freedom - and that you stepped on my life to get it. The old pain is latent now - its the new pain that flares up unexpected. sneaky. and without remorse.

I find myself thinking so hard, about what i DID and DIDN'T do. And it used to be about salvation, ya know. WHY couldn't i save my friendships, relationships, friends. But now, its about revenge or maybe even just bitterness. And I've come to realize bitterness is not the worst, and even  better its none of anyones business what i feel. I can talk for days about how i feel, but no one and i mean NO ONE has the right to comment on it. my blog, my rules. my mouth, my rules. my terrible horrible abusive imprinted and painful college experience. my fucking rules. 

Rachael has only heard pieces of this. pieces. when she hears me rant about it, eyes wide and glistening, waiting for the first tear to drop- she'll understand my obsession. When something pierces this deep its hard to ignore, get over, or move past. And besides anyone who wants me to do that (without realizing the complexity) is probably not my friend and not a respectful person. You cant erase trauma - it comes from the greek word for wound. its a wound. and sadly, there's no meds for it. its just festering and getting infected. I wish i could heal it. but then i don't. If it was healed how would i explain myself? How would i explain the me that was birthed from that HORRIBLE experience? I wouldn't know how.

I used to worry that my words would start a war, but i really don't care anymore. No one who was involved with these feelings care for me, so why should i care what my words might mean to them. its over, its been over. I have to express myself somehow - and i can't wait for people to see me like i want them too, cause they see me how they want. even if its wrong and possibly offensive. No. i deserve to express myself. i do, i earned it. I didn't get the chance before my life went up in flames and has since been 'under construction'.

i want my life back. but it's not there anymore.  and i have done EVERYTHING i could to get it back. i graveled, i degraded myself, went into the lions den and let them tare me apart, died, lived, apologized, and tried will everything i had. But its still gone and ive had to move forward without it.

i have a right to my feelings, don't i? or as a woman, a black woman, a queer...should i shut the fuck up, bow down, and let this eat me alive(again!)?

I NEVER talk about my coming out experience. it stays hidden and buried.  it breaks my heart to remember it. infact, i'm not sure i do.  All i can remember now is feeling something i wish i didn't. I have wished thousands of times i never embraced who i was. i wish i had ignored it.

she sleeps in green

OKAY, nh. Cool your heels on the weird weather. One day it snows, then the next morning its sunny and i barely need a coat. tooo crazy for me.

My friends came to visit this weekend. It's been great. I felt normal, and like im not what i've had drilled into my head these past few years. I haven't felt dangerous, rude, like a bully, violent, evil, slutty or anything. Just...me. And i thank them both for allowing me to be myself and understanding that the core of me is not the same person who reacts to VERY stressful situations with violence and rage. And they're both black, so they more than anyone ive met here can understand how the violence and rage is secondary when you're from where im from. It is inevitable, and only the privileged can even begin to feel above violence. I saw 'Shutter island" this weekend with richie and liz - they talked a lot about violence in the film. Something like "the only thing that matters in the world is my violence and yours. god loves violence, or there wouldn't be so much of it!" DING! My thoughts exactly, i think violence is all we have. It's the backbone of our need to survive. Kill or be killed - - its just that some of us have already had to use it to survive while others get to imagine what violence would be like. And pass judgment on it anyway. fools.

Miranda and i. we're...something. But i alone, am crazy. Whenever things are going really well for us (which is most of the time) i freeze up and dissolve. I often feel she is too good for me, too perfect, too alive. She is not afraid the way i am of the tiniest earthquake. She stands next to me , always, and holds my hand. WHEN did i become this person? WHEN did i become someone who is loved? It is SO fucking uncomfortable, i feel like im in a bodice. The breath, the life, strangled out of me. But she is always there and never gives up on me. The other day i realized that all those reality shows i like about vying for the love of some semi-star is what i experienced at UNH. "For the love of Miranda". And as i keep working on that movie script about the joys and DESTRUCTION of 2 years of my college experience - i think ill have to work that idea in. Because everytime i think about it i laugh so much to myself. So many bodies, blood, and souls for nothing - for no love. for the love thats mine. silly.

Sometimes when i realize how ppl use the internet - like blogs and facebook i vomit in my mouth. When you realize that the internet is only for the intention of alienating ppl, making ppl feel left out, exercising power over ppl through friending, defriending, blocking, and only showing a little of your profile - its sooo sad. I understand not wanting EVERYONE to know EVERYTHING about you - but like, what is there to hide? and from whom? I admit my profile isn't completely visible -but it mostly is. If you're my friend, in the same network, or a friend of a friend you can see my shit. IDC, i got nothing to hide. Besides isn't it a SOCIAL NETWORKING site - how can you involve yourself in either if you're so fucking obsessed with secrecy, and hiding.  I think about this a lot because as someone who has abused and been MONSTROUSLY abused through the internet i know how dangerous of a tool it is. I think we all need to practice a little more peace and moving on. I'm working on my end - but with little help its an (almost) dead end.

but face to face is different. face to face the same callousness is not there. only avoidance, only (again) hiding. the internet is too easy to wage war from - its too plain.

I am at the front doors of a huge transition. i can feel my bones quaking. I WANT OUT! And within this transition im looking at "friends" with lots of excavation. I have been in the process of emotionally distancing myself from those who're poison to me. And also, im onto the "friends" that don't really give a fuck and are just acting. UM, ya... i got you. I am sickkkk of being the one who does all the work in all my friendships. I GIVE and give, and all i get back are stares, confusion, confrontation, and irritation. ah. It takes a fucking army for me to get any correspondence that isn't promoted first. annoying. And i cant even remember the last time anyone had ANY respect for the things i like. It's so easy to make fun of fall out boy, dallas, dynasty, old horror movies, music from the 70's and back, lady gaga, tori amos, mandy moore, etc. TOO easy. REALLY. we're friends? I have NO friends that have ever asked to sit down and watch dallas without having to give an hour presentation with fucking charts and billboards about why i like it. NEWS: if you like me, you respect what i like. otherwise. GO! I do not want anymore people who dismiss my likes as silly, violent, anti feminist, weird, rude, dumb etc. sick of it. You want anti feminist? oooo, i wont even go there. WAY too easy.