It seems that I've, once again, not held true to my own promises to myself. I may just need to come to terms with the fact that I will simply write when I am the utmost ready to do so. So, instead of making these sweeping promises to give more time to this and that, and that and this, I'll just go with the flow of my life. Things will unfold as they are intended and bloom when least expected and be when needed. And, that is all I can say.
With that little formality out of the way, I'll do my best to keep this short and sweet (or sweet-ish - as I already know it won't be very short and I plan to do a little bit of a brain-dump; so just endure this with me). Firstly, this past month, marked with the catch-all phrase, "April showers..." was littered with nothing but that: RAIN. As lovely and calming as rain tends to be, it is also quite unforgiving. April, with all of its water discarding, marked the month in which my family's small, struggling abode's roof started crying (or leaking, in more literal terms). Unbeknownst to the fact that I needed to be cleansed by tainted roof water, I sat, on no special day in particular, on my bed indulging in a "Deadly Sins" marathon on the ID channel, and found myself soaked in murky water. To my (non)delight, I was rinsed, I suppose, of my "sins," because I quickly gathered my scattered self, attention, and bed sheets, and all the sorts and promptly set up shop in the sanctuary of our living room, pleading with the good Lord to spare me from the destructions and wrath of my room's ceiling. Yell-crying, I explained to my mother that the sky was falling and the apocalypse was upon us, because our house was finally giving up on its life (the struggle was to be no more). Bewildered and overwhelmed with my dramatics, my mother went into my room and uttered a few dialect-y Jamaican swear words before leaving it to retrieve the bucket. Though I'd like to delve into the importance of the bucket, I simply will not - as it has a very dark history. Nonetheless, my bed was moved the six inches it could barely be moved and the bucket was rooted down to collect its rare earnings of contaminated water. And that would be my life until the grand tarp-ing of our roof by my father. And naturally, like the quick demise of dominoes tipped over, room by room, our ceiling gave way to liquid fury - soaking our carpet in clearly what is now the TEARS of our house. Again, my father came to the rescue and tarp-ed each wound - and now we are blue roofed (our own personal sky).
Despite our house WOES in the "4," this past month was marked by busy weekends full of birthday celebrations. It was just my luck to have nearly everyone I know that is absolutely the most important to me born in the month of April; but, due to this very fact, my bank account was drying up in the "4" for the LOVES of my life. From dear family members, to my closest of close friends, to good friends of friends, to just E V E R Y O N E , April was pregnant with bottle-popping, Mary J. Blige dancing, and "extra guac" money throwing. Some highlighted moments, include my trip to Panama Beach City with my riders (they know who they are - also, see attached picture), Mimi's Cafe and Mimosas with Mommy dearest and my little brother for her fifty second, Roomie's and BESTIE's twenty sixth birthday dinners and shenanigans, and just simply E V E R Y other weekend full of fun making memories, April, is probably one of the most exciting months following, of course, my birth month of November. Tired and full from the bliss of life, I am happy to bring in the month of May on a high note. That high note being, my first major trip in a long time, to San Diego, California. In a matter of two days, I'll be reunited with one of my DEAREST most loved friends from my Cornell days (she knows who she is). Excited, I simply cannot wait to be someplace other than Florida. Also, as they say, it never rains in southern California...
Sweet-ish, but not as short as intended, April was a daze, and we shall see what May has in store. For now, May will be marked by my trip to Cali, dealing with the loss of our family car, The Dark Knight (the mustang) and just one other loss (of a more personal sort). Life is, as per usual, grand, for me, even with the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Changing tune, for a brief moment, though in actuality it deserves more than just a "brief" moment, the past few months, and since my last racially charged post, was full of more unwarranted deaths of black youths, men and women, and white law officials escaping justified punishment. Utterly disgusted, disheartened and the like, I am, like many people of color (blacks in particular), left reminded that equality remains pure for those with a lack of melanin in their skins. Justice is not for the masses nor is it pure but, once again, it remains fault-free for only the melanin-less. And lives for the melanin-ful are worth less and less each day. And as grand as my life may be on the small spectrum of L I F E, the world around me is not as forgiving, loving, or grand. It is littered with pain, death, and the constant reminder that "fair-ness" is merely just a figment of the imagination. It is on this note that I'll leave you. Just remember, and I'll continue to say this:
When you know better, you do better.
:: Post Rationalizing(s)
"Until lions start writing down their own stories, the hunters will always be the heroes."
― African Proverbs ―