i’m really growing up...so i don’t like cheez-its anymore.

this is yet another thing that i overhear my first born say.

09:32 AM - 15 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

the book project: submission still being accepted!

the project:

a book. some gorilla tactics. some fancy html. some chance of your words finding a person who needes to hear them. some exposure. redefining the art of journaling. but most importantly, giving your words legs. leave your mark on someone...and see who was affected. this is minding the gap. this is change. this is something bigger than words in way...

& i want you to be a part. i can't tell you the details, but if you're work is selected, you'll be a part of a project bigger than just a book.

here's the deal:

send 3 original blogs as a .rtf (rich text format) 
- all topics accepted
- no length requirement
- adult content okay
- edit your own work
** new or old blogs accetped..whatever you want to represent you**

include:
- legal name & name you want to be authored under
- email address
- telephone number
- blog web address

send to flysubmit@gmail.com

Submissions Dates: March 7-May 7

Tenative Book Release Date: August 2008

NOW runteldat:

tell your friends!

tell your favorite blogger!

tell yourself you're ready for this chance!

also, tell me if you're in school because i'd love for you to put up a flyer!

08:53 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

love poems for strangers 3: if "if" was enough

when straight girls slant only in words.

if i were the kind to spend the night
the type that likes to touch waywards curls out of heart shaped faces
if i were less of a planner and more of a doer
less of a writer and more of a reader
less of a needer and more of a giver
if i were more mature about liquids
i would
i would
i would whispers poems into your womb
for you
run fast across town to buy booties in pink and blue
doublemint twin a pregnancy
between impossibilities and reality
we’d protest with our uterus
be married in the eyes of children who define love simply
by if its said from one to another
rather than who it is said in the presence of
namely judges of all kinds
for you
would never have to ask me if
cause
if i was the type to stay for eggs
the type that liked complicated questions in the form of pillow talk
if i enjoyed being out done with dates & creative ways to say
lovely things
if i were really into reading hallmark cards
and cared enough to call just because
rather than yearn for the excitment in the waiting to be called
if i didn’t secretly enjoy being misunderstood
if i were more consistent with my wants
and even moreso with my emotions
if i was a girl without daddy issues
the type who understood the bond of sisters
with the patience to outwait silent treatments
if i weren’t me
if i weren’t straight & narrow in thought
type a with life
type b with love
for you
i would
i would
sit still in the shade under the hammock of your smile
lay out flat in your name
loop and swirl with the letters in the word love written in cursive
along your long back
bead your sweat in a string of pearls
i’d sit you down between house & home knees
part sections from forehead to base of neck
and glide oiled fingers between each line
then braid my history into yours
i’d sonnet you
swallow you
& allow laughter to errupt from your mouth to mine
in our space
i would enjoy those things that are lost on me now
if i were
if i were
i would
i would
for you
perhaps i would
but i know that perhaps is never enough
in love poems
& if is only a tease of a gesture
& would is a word used to bandage feelings
& hope was the last thing
in the box
so i don’t say these things
i just smile & nod
& leave.

12:11 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos

natural?

i stumbled across hippie talk the other week, no offense intended, a conversation that didn’t include me specifically, in a building that houses all the arts & farts at school. you know, english, theater, philosophy, women studies. & so ladies went back & forth about women issues, specifically vaginas & scented soaps. i’m nosey, so i listen. one girls tells the other that the vagina is a self cleaning machine (i agree to myself) and that you shouldn’t use soap up in there (i understand this point) and if a perfumed poon is really something you want you should use some essentials oils on it because that’s chemical-free...

i made the essential oil of cloves in class not too long ago...wanna know what we used? dichloromethane, hydrochloric acid & sodium hydroxide, just to get the oils separated from the natural source. wanna know what the smell of cloves chemical name is....eugenol. it is a chemical in the dried cloves responsible for the scent. & well....sometimes a labortatory may not get 100% of the dicholormethane evaporated off the oil..and perhaps there may be a slight chance of acid impurties left over. do you really want that up or on your tingting? i wanted to tell her friend not to do it...but i’m a science major & therefore i’m interested in experiments. so i’ll just keep sitting over there in that building for the next 2 months with my lab book recording any changes in the friend’s walk.

wanna know what these two did after talking about this...yep, you guessed it. went to have a smoke.

gotta love america.

09:10 AM - 8 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

nothing new under the sun.

no new bottles bought this time
she thinks as her hands create a make shift womb out of pink receiving blankets for her son
who will suck on borrowed nipples & fall asleep listening to
second hand lullabies that mix gossip & legends into the sweat gathered on wrinkled foreheads
a red house set in the sun is bound to generate heat
she thinks as the ceiling fan whispers about her decisions to swaddle this newness in a suffocating past
she unwraps herself first in one swift motion
while the baby is still attached to tear drop breasts
steady & serene
he doesn’t cry about these things
these left overs
this pink
or her sweat
he doesn’t know the difference between gossip and legend just yet
she looks at him and sees
his eyes are brand new.

09:46 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos

ps. i’ll be in L.A in 274 days.

i know its dumb early to be telling you...but i just thought i’d mention it in case you wanted to...i don’t know..invite me to come hang out with all you cool la poets at all your cool open mic so i can take a picture with a drink in my hand while judy boom boom grabs my boobs. (you’ll need two hands for one boob babygirl, so start lifting weights now)

02:55 PM - 7 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

just a fish, just a pond.

i grew up as the only crayola master piece on the fridge. the only first step to be amazed at & the only report card to praise. i was the center of my mother’s world. father be damned. loretta’s lullaby to me, from birth to boston, was that i was the reason why she breathed, lived and kept on keeping on. 

sidenote: yes she had her serious issues, but overall she was one of the best mothers a person could be fortunate enough to be messed up by. teehee.

12:57 PM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

the new book starts with YOU - Submission Info

the project:

a book. some gorilla tactics. some fancy html. some chance of your words finding a person who needes to hear them. some exposure. redefining the art of journaling. but most importantly, giving your words legs. leave your mark on someone...and see who was affected. this is minding the gap. this is change. this is something bigger than words in way...

& i want you to be a part. i can't tell you the details, but if you're work is selected, you'll be a part of a project bigger than just a book.

here's the deal:

send 3 original blogs as a .rtf (rich text format) 
- all topics accepted
- no length requirement
- adult content okay
- edit your own work
** new or old blogs accetped..whatever you want to represent you**

include:
- legal name & name you want to be authored under
- email address
- telephone number
- blog web address

send to flysubmit@gmail.com

Submissions Dates: March 7-May 7

Tenative Book Release Date: August 2008

NOW runteldat:

tell your friends!

tell your favorite blogger!

tell yourself you're ready for this chance!

also, tell me if you're in school because i'd love for you to put up a flyer!

04:52 PM - 5 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

ten minutes in & i’m crying.

i told myself, sitting in the lobby, not to cry. whatever you do lei, Dont. Cry. i sign the papers & whisper it to myself. i stare at the clock. i start the habit of biting my nails right there. i think about how i want to "act". then i wonder if someone i know will walk in & see me in the lobby and we'll exchange glances of "you too?"....but no one comes in. at least no one i know comes in. just some other guy that i assume is stressing about work or sexual fantasies about bunnies. then i sit there thinking...am i being judgmental? oh god. so i concentrate back on the clock, on my nails and on my mission. don't cry.

i don't want to be cliche. this isn't really a real session. it's just an introduction meeting. so...DONT CRY!

few minutes later i hit the chair beyond the doors & it's just like i thought it'd be.

"sit in any chair you like" she says, but of course i realize which one was for her and which one is designated for the crazies. for a minute i consider being passive aggressive and taking her seat, but then i decided against trying to buck the system in what is supposed to become my safety zone. so........i take the "right" seat and settle into the comfy wing chair imagining all the people's asses that have sat in it crying (and whining) about parents and pasts and partners and problems. & as she asks why i'm here i add my own lists of tragedies into the fabric of that worn down wing chair...

"i fear failure"

it hangs in the air for a moment. the weight of the word is much lighter than i thought. she takes out a legal pad and starts to write...Umm Hmmm.

"i fear making a decision"

we discuss it for a few more minutes. i try to explain why i think it's better to never make a decision rather than make the wrong one and be stuck with it for years. more than stuck, be resposnsible for it! and she says "so, if you're okay with never making decisions, why are you here". i stare at her books. i search her walls for credentials. i look at the corny inspriation posters on her walls.

"i just want you to give me the answer so i can blame you if things don't turn out right"

she laughs and reassures me that whatever answer i get in her office will have come to me from myself. which is what i expected of course, but not what i wanted. i really did want her to answer me. to solve the "rest of my life"....when i talk out loud everything i say sounds absurd. the rest of my life? i'm only 27. i've got a shit load (si dios quiere) of life to go & i'm worried like i'm 57 & just going back to high school.

i say more absurb things. talk myself in circles about my quirks. how i think i know everything. how i don't take advice b/c i think i'm smarter than the person giving it. how i'll probably question her intelligence when i leave. i say things that i'd NEVER say outloud to anyone else. i feel liberated but so damn dirty. like....am i really this assholish in my mind? so i think i'm big and bad with my self confidence. at one point i hear myself & it sounds like i'm boasting about my god complex. and she says, very humanly, but if you were so sure about yourself, then why would you fear failure & making decisions? if you're the smartest person you know then....she doesn't need to finish. or maybe she did finish that sentence & i stopped listening because i didn't want to hear that.

so we move along past what i assume SHE assumes is my facade & briefly touch bases on why i think i'm the way i am. did someone in my past make me unsure of myself. which is psychobabble for "did yo momma do this to you?"..i explain no. but as we get to talking more i mention that i carry a lot of shame & then ...

dont cry, lei.

too late.

tears come too fast. i say the word shame and i cry.

i am surprised about how much i can say on here. to you. & you. what i can confess in a poem. what i can stand on stage and leak into a mic. but there in that red wing chair it feels different. it feels too claustrophobic. the words come out too loud. when you say shame in that red wing chair it isn't poetry. it isn't fancy word play. it isn't a blog that you can be both hero and victim in the same breath. in that space your shame is shame and the woman across from you will not look at you with judgmental eyes but she'll ask why. and there's no leaving it up for interpretation. no poetic license. there's no "well this isn't really about me me, it's more so based on a collection of women stories and girlfriend chatter"....when you're there, your shame is YOUR SHAME. and when it comes tip toeing out of your mouth it doesn't sneak out the door or float into the air conditioner vent. it isn't as sneaky as you would like. i guess if it were sneaky, you wouldn't have to try so hard to hide it, huh?

i guess i cried for a variety of reasons. not just for shame itself. that was just a trigger word.

i cried because i didn't want to cry. because i didn't want someone to see me walk out from being in her office 10 minutes only. i didn't want to look like a problem when i walked out. i didn't want to be a problem. i didn't want my session to go off course with what i was trying to accomplish. i didn't want her to open that door. we were only supposed to stay on the "what am i going to be when i grow up" questions...i was only here for a simple procedure, not open heart surgery.

i try to tell her that i cry all the time & not to think that it's anything special that she did. and in a way that's true. but...

yeah.

maybe.

anyways, that's how i been.

how's your mental health? :-p

09:03 PM - 12 Comments - 17 Kudos - Add Comment

morning dash & i’m turning ...104

yesterday morning i'm pulling out the driveway. & just like most mornings ant is at the door waving. he doesn't close the door until we're down the street. so we, the baby crew & i, are saying our goodbyes out the window. blowing kisses and screaming love you's which i'm sure irritate the neighbors at 7:30am. we're down the street & nina moon says

"mom, you and daddy taught me how important a family is and now i know that i am lovable."

yes, i promise you she is this random.

for the duration of her trip to school we chat about how it's important to love yourself and feel lucky that you have so many people that love you because you are you. kimyo chimes in how much she loves her big sister. bravery screeches happily & merrily we go about our morning routine. when nina is in front of her school, and she's late, i tell her to just blow us kisses and hit the road but she says no and stops to give every one of us a kiss with patience and then jumps out the van a-team style and scurries off to kindergarten where i hope she's treated with respect and love. in that aspect she's just like her a father.

now-- let me break here from the brady bunch stories of my life. because yes, some morning are really like this. some mornings it is so damn cutesy in my house. i live with 3 kids under the age of 6 & we have a kitten..that's a whole lotta cute for one household.

B U T - for the sake of keeping reality reality, it has not always been so merry. matter of factly, before i turned 24 i was not ready for this family. which is a sad shame because by 24 nina moon was 2 & kimiyo 1.  because 24 was all about wishing that i had more time to be me, be young, be defined as more than mother and wife & home maker. i had a miscarriage at 24 & thought for sure i had willed the baby to die because i was so stressed about being 24 with 3 kids. i just saw my youth slipping out of my grasp & i couldn't save it or me..or my unborn. i was a college drop out, unemployed, heavy, semi-okay writer, married to two kids, a husband, and debt. you might not have read these types of brady bunch stories from me because i was too busy swimming against the current, falling in pretend love with motherless men who flowered into beautiful poets when the email inboxes opened, them without children or wife attached to screename. a symbol of freedom that was just a finger tip away. a pretend life with pretend men in a pretend world where everything was quiet & patient & carefree & slow & fresh. like getting lost in a new city.

keep in mind, no one...(not one of ya'll) could have ever taken me away from anthony. not now or then or maybe later. never. he is all that there will ever be. i'm sure those are jinxing words, but oh welp. it's what i feel. no one could have taken me physically away from him, but these faceless,childless, and possibly debtless were mini lunch breaks between the day. think: smoke breaks. why didn't you just run to anthony? you ask? how do you tell your husband that? how do you look him in the eye and say "i need some me back?". now mind you, if you know anthony, you'd know he'd be as objective and coolheaded as possible. he'd offer me "me" & space & yoga classes & a friend all in one conversation. he'd give me everything to be happy. but that's too much to ask of someone i thought. because he'd never forget that i was tittering on the edge. he'd never forget that i was being a selfish twenty something year old. even when the month changed and season changed and i changed, he'd never forget it. so i didn't say. i self medicated with platonic friendships where i secretly made a stranger a muse & wrote sad love poems about sad lovers in sad lives. & when my stranger left, my happiness left. & i went back to feeling in a rut of home, sleep, change diapers, sleep, cook, sleep, pay a bill, eat, eat, sleep. (and always forget to pray)

see?? not so merry, right?

this is my point i'm trying to make. to all those in marriages, in early parenthood, to those looking for nub in all the wrong places, to sad women who wish for babies and husbands whatever order they come in...

be happy with you. with you right now. not who you were or who you are going to school to be or praying to be or getting plastic surgery to be. the who you are right now. you don't have to love where you're at..but appreciate where you're at as a place that is adding value to your person. YOU ARE AMAZING if for no other reason than YOU WERE THE FASTEST SPERM. (biologically speaking, its much more indepth, the egg actually chooses which sperm to let in but for anaology sake we'll go with the tried and true fairy tale version of the sperm & egg relationship). You were born a winner, do you know how hard it is to actually carry out conception?

my happiness has always been dependent on someone. some boyfriend. someone's laughter. someone thinking i was a good enough writer. but when you depend on external things to bring you happiness, you can only be happy in shifts...in phases..periodic smiles.

i wanted this life & these children because i thought it would make me happy. anthony made me happy but i wanted more happiness to in some way stock pile my happiness in times of need, like war or recession or business trip nights.

by 25 i had gotten into a groove in parenthood. everyone was potty trained. everyone could feed and speak for themselves. debt was leaving. my husband was always my husband. & i stopped looking in my inbox. i stopped taking pictures of myself & just started taking shots of my children in black & white. capturing quiet moments of sleeping daughters. side profiles of anthony. my tummy. mother & wife weren't my sole definitions. just two important words in my overall summary. i stop limitimg my view of who i was supposed to be & just accepted the minivan keys. happily. & of course bravery came to remind us how fragile this life is. not just life in general, but this life that i'm living.  

i guess you can say i grew into this life like i grew into my name. i grew into being a better mom. into being a better wife. into being a better more independently happy person. it didn't click together and become one happy ending. though you know i love to wrap up all my stories with happy endings (i see you tekima) or on a positive note because in truth that is how i think. & what i learned from all this is that...my life was never anything less than it is now. my children & household & baby father were never lacking. i was.

i tell you these things because i'm turning ...104 on sunday. i will spend it with my glorious family. i'll snuggle with 3 fantastic kids & one lazy kitten & one phenomenal husband. & it will be a grand day not because of them but because i am where i'm supposed to be with me to appreciate them. i'm not hungry for youth like i was.

i am finally full.

& i'm feeling 27. i mean...104.

go get happy.

12:03 PM - 11 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment