Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Footsteps. Keepin it moving....

Ask me any 3 questions and I will answer them:

Kim asked-
1) If left with only word you could speak for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?
2) Crayons or markers? Why?
3) What would be the most painful topic to write a poem about? And why?

Answer-
1) Boldness.
It's something that I have so much of and then too little of at the same time. If we as a people were bold enough to stand together against the government then, troops would come home, taxes would be cut, equality would be inforced, and peace would be made. But instead of being BOLD we're often Silent, Incompetent, and Passive.

2) Markers.
Brings out the kid in me. And they have such an array of colors now a days.

3) My parents.
Me writing a poem about those nights, days, mornings when I heard thumps up against the walls and my mothers tears followed behind them...beating pain into my heart. I imagine that the poem would ask him questions pertaining to "why" and then I'd tell him how lucky he is that I wasn't big enough, old enough to kill him then and have HIS thumps to be heard. Tears would stream down my face and I'd describe to him how much I hate him for eveytime I think about it and for every physical, emotional scar I've allowed my ex to do to me because I thought that he'd love me more afterwards.
Then I'd turn to my mother and tell her how angery I am with her for puttin up with that shit! And apologize for not being the warrior that I am today, her voice, her backbone, her feet. I'd tell her that her cries have been imbeded into my ear drums as well as my nightmares. I'd tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me.
I'd probably title it: Fleshwounds

Shelle asked-
1) why is david the one?
2) is your cockiness a defense mechanism? and for what?
3) favorite childhood memory?

Answer-
1) Have you seen him! Naw but really he adores me, and sees someting in me that I allowed my ex to destroy. David pushes me as my motivator, and challenges me as my friend. We balance eachother out. I prayed for him before I met him and I asked God to show him to me. David started poppin up EVERYWHERE I was. We made eye contact once while I was performing at this event featuring Ruthy Foster and I got nerves and he blinked my fears away from the audience...he wasn't even my boyfriend then. There were several times when I knew he was the one. Once when he came to spend the night at my place for the first time and he wouldn't take off his jeans because he didn't want me to think that he had sex on the brain...he slept fully clothed and I loved him for that. Our first date was to I-Hop. We sat there for 3 hours after we ate talking and laughing...life is simple with him and things make sense. We've been inseparable ever since.

2) It is a defense mechanism sometimes to cover up my self-consciousness, because a lot of times I let peoples words break my bones. But my cockiness is also the confident side of me that remindes me of what I can do, what I have done, and what is yet to come. So my cockiness allows me not to be soft sometimes. I honestly think people mistake my confidence and determination for cocky. And thats fine because I prove what I need to prove to those who I care most about.

3) I have so many. Wow...lets see...when me and my cousins and sister would be in the backroom of my grandmas house trying to free-style and my sister would always go last and would always have the same flow that didn't make sense:
I'm sittin on the curb.
Ridin in the burb.
Smokin on some herb.
Man hold up.
It would mess everybody up but would be so much fun at the same time...po thang still can't flow.
Fallen Angel asked-
1. if you could change your name, what would you change it to and why?
2. what is the name of the last person you had a fist-fight with?
3. david calls you on your cell and tells you he's taking you on a surprise get-away and you can only pack three things, what are they?
Answer-
1) Natalie. It was my moms first choice but she let my dad name me instead. I like the name and its not easy to tell my race like ebony is. However, I think Ebony fits me well.
2) Crystal. She wanted to fight me not the other way around. She was a lot bigger than me so I told her at school I wasn't going to fight her fair. We fought 4years ago in the Wal-Mart parking lot. When I saw her walking up on me when I was almost to my car I popped trunk got out my baseball bat and started swingin makin contact. Then I threw it down went hard with my fist. I got in my car, drove home, and ate my ice cream on the couch.
3) Besides the clothes and jewelery that I am already wearing...I'd grab my journal, my ID, and some comfortable underwear. You don't wanna be stuck on a long flight with some uncomfortable panties! Hell to the naw!
Cousin Sarah asked-
1)If you could meet one person dead or alive-who and why?
2)f you could attend a hip hop concert that had any three acts from any era..which three would you pick? (muah ha ha)
3)What is the best book you have ever read?
Answer-
1) Mary J Blidge. I've loved her and admired her style and words since I was a little girl. She is absolutely awesome to me. Her experiences are easy to relate to and her voice is beautiful. She seems like she'd be a very down to earth good ass friend.
2) What a hard ass question....and very unfair to have me to pick only three. Damn. Okay, Kanye would open up the show. His flava is fresh and very dope to me. He comes strong and speaks the truth. Next up to the stage is Nas. The poetic sense that he has is CRAZY! And to end the show would be of course Tupac. He's a legend dammitt. Every rapper has a little bit of him in them. He's refreshing in his truth, leassons, and his abstract poetry.
3) Cecilia the Slave. Oh my GOD. I read this book my sophmore year in college. It's about a slave female who lives in a house behind her masters. He comes to rape her all the time and all her kids are for him. She of course has a boyfriend, but he won't stand up to the master because of fear of being killed. So Cecillia takes matters into her own hands and plans things out for the next time the master comes to rape her and stuff. So when he comes she kills him, cuts him up in pieces and puts him in the fire...burns that nigga up! Damn, now that's justice! She goes on trial and gets off (I think) because they can't prove that she did it. Cecilia the slave...damn you girl...that's what's up. YEAAA BAABBYYY!

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

I have a false sense about myself,
That is in making people think I'm happy sometimes,
when I'm really not.
And I hide behind my angery material because my soul is sensitive.....

I called my dad today and he didn't have much to say. Funny how sometimes I wanna talk to him so bad, but don't have much to say whenever I do. So convos are pretty much always the same ol same ol (hows david, hows your truck, what are you doing, did you see that movie yet). He never has much else to say besides those things...occassionally I get the bonus question of do you need anything? I hate that question.
Why ask if I need anything instead of just assuming that I do, and telling me you'll send me some money for books, shit TUITION (take your pick- Txstate or ACC), help pay a carnote, I'll even settle for gas money! I mean DAMN how is it that he can plan a trip to Japan for this Oct, get a corvette classic, buy a 2-story house in Colorado, and map a plan to getting a cruiser motorcycle...
But can't give me money for books, school, gas?
I wanna say all those things, but instead I answer his questions as I always do (he fine, it's good, I'm fine, not yet but I may BONUS: No I'm fine). I can't bring myself to tell him in my oh so blunt way:
"Nigga hell yea I need something! And by the way you SUCK for asking!"
And then list those things I need. Once tho I did say, well I need some money for books, and he burned me by telling me "my money kinda funny right now babygirl" making me hate that phrase.
So I depend on him for nothing, but want so much from him.
I wish he'd sometimes change up the questions at least and ask: How's the wedding plans going, Have you written any new poems lately, Have you started substitute teaching yet...any of which would be almost impossible because my dad doesn't know much about me.
He's only seen me dance professionally for the dance company once.
And about two weeks ago he saw one of my poetry performances for the first time on dvd...I'm not even sure if he even knew that I wrote poetry...but I'm sure he thought that that video was my first slam.

They say I look like him around my mouth and I act like him in my fists balled ready for motion to grace the knuckles. We have the same daredevil attitude and need for speed. I'm a competitive athlete, natural shit talker, and sarcasticlly blunt like him. My mom even told me that I got my love for pasta from him, will try any food-like him, and I cover my plate with my napkin after I'm done eating-like him.
The same curves that my letters make in script favor his...and I wanna write to him hoping that he'll see himself and beable to read through me (I'm fine).
If I'm so much like him then why can't he favor me?

David says that I'm a strong woman with a big heart not to hate my dad.
If I'm so strong, why do I often feel so weak when it comes to my dad?
And if my heart is so big, then why did I almost not go on that date with David when I found out that his name was the same as my dads?
Not really hard to answer that question...my David is better than that one could ever be.

I'm working on how to put this all in poem form, being vulnerable is harder than you think in some cases. Maybe I could start it like this:

Dear Dad,
Can you see me?



A microphone is an example of a transducer, a device that changes information from one form to another. Sound information exists as patterns of air pressure; the microphone changes this information into patterns of electric current. The recording engineer is interested in the accuracy of this transformation, a concept she thinks of as fidelity.

I have become the current that passes through the airways. I have become an assassinator to ears from my words used in my microphone. I carry over from loud to quiet from big to small and from long to short.

Don't bother dustin off ya mic...I checked you long time ago.