somebody.

sometimes i wish

that i could meet

that somebody

who would save me

take me away

from this place 

and lead me 

to happiness.

wherever that may be.

and then i wake up

from delusion and

i realize that the only

person who can

get me to where

i want to be 

is me.

and i know

i don't believe in

a man turned messiah

to take me in his arms

wipe my problems

and my tears away

and every man

i have ever met has

let me fall

let me slip

let me down

at some point or another

so somebody,

whomever you are,

wherever you might be

if you're out there

take your time.

i'm still working on

me

text messages.

so it's another night
of me texting you
and you texting me
back within seconds and
i laugh out loud because
you're silly and
you're clever and
you're cute.

but every time i press send
i feel like
i'm jumping
in the deep end of a pool
and i can't swim
i feel like
i'm running a race but
you won't let me win so
what's the point.

and i know that
you're different than
alot of the rest but
that's how they all
are until
they you get to know
them

but despite
the odds stacked up
against me
and the bricks you've
lain as this fortress
to keep me out
i still love it when i see
on my phone
new message
followed by
your name
again and
again and
again

21 on the 22nd.

it's 12:22 am
on 12.22.08
and i'm
officially
21.

the only thing
really left to do
is get on my knees
and say
amen

tis the season to be hating.

i really don't understand
why all of a sudden
the past few months or so
my honesty box
[which i am realizing i should just destroy]
has been full of
ridiculously hateful messages
from petty females
calling me anything but
a child of God

and it's odd because this year
i'm so hard to find, seriously.
i'm on my waldo ish so to come at me
and tell me about myself
ESPECIALLY if you're a sophomore
or lord forbid, a freshman,
do you really know me?

at first it made me upset
almost to the point of tears but
this isn't sophomore year, round 2
i will be 21 in 24 hours
and i can't help
that i'm on these little girls' minds
like it's my job.

actually, it is my job. not to
make anyone feel threatened but to
let my light shine and be
the most absolutely amazing ashley rhae
that God will allow me to be and
if you feel that my light
is shining brighter than yours,
instead of hating and trying to extinguish
mine,
sit back and take notes.

mr. marshall [and the morning before].

so in my finals frenzy
or sort of...lack of
i have been sleeping crazy amounts
12 hours
15 hours
at a time and today i woke up
in an anxious overdrive
looking the hottest of hot messes
but quite aware that today
tonight
and this morning i have to go harder
than ever before

so i'm in the bcc printing off free stuff
gotta love the bcc
and i noticed a head poke in the doorway
then pokes back out. but im not really concerned
general logic and blues are the only things
on my mind but the same head
with a body attached comes in the room
and starts to speak to me
and intelligent intelligible words come out

his name was andrew marshall
and told me about him studying
at johns hopkins and how he's 22
but he looks like he's 27 because until
you've tried to cure AIDS you don't know
what tired is and he said that i was
a beautiful black woman despite the fact
that i was wearing a ratty bengals hat
little to no makeup and my hair tied up
in a mean, 5 second bun

i packed up my 80 pages of general logic
work that i should have studied months ago
and bid him adieu but not before
mr. marshall asked me
to hit him up
and i've been so tired
studying and studying and studying
that i totally forgot that
unbeknownst to me
i broke my new years resolution
before it even started.
damn.

on the art of being sketchy.

after hours of being cooped up in buttrick 4th floor, somehow, meg, hew, j gunn and lutalo and myself started calling each other out on our personal levels of sketchiness. this discussion turned very heated [and hilarious] because while some people are sketchyyyy from day 1, freshman fall, others [according to them, like myself] become sketchy quite randomly and sketch out exponentially. well. since it's hard to glean a person's personal sketchiness, since i don't own a sketchometer [but i DO own a thirstometer...another story for another day], i figured, hey. there need to be some general rules for pulling sketchiness off. and they are:

1. never, ever, ever admit you've been out sketching when if u get caught. lie.
2. the hours from 11 pm - 7 am are sketching hours.
3. any male in cole and any female in tolman can be considered lurking/being sketchy even outside of the set aside sketch hours.
4. anyone wearing the same clothing you noticed them wearing the day before = busted
5. when lurking in towers, always go down to the first floor then come up.
6. when lurking in the commons, at least have a computer and 1 notebook so you have proof that you are taking notes on some obscure subject.
7. when you're on the vandy van between the hours of 1-5 am on a weekday and you see someone getting off on a stop where they don't live, they're lurking. but don't bust them out, because odds on you're on the vandy van for the same reason. no group project meets at 2 am.
8. generally, upperclassmen on commons after 10 pm not in the commons center = lurking
9. generally, freshmen on main campus after 10 pm not in sarratt = lurking
10. luckily, in the winter, you can hide your identity. hoods. scarves. glasses. boots.
11. if you are approached about your comings and goings and the nosy individual guesses correctly, you can/should ask them about any recent gossip concerning them to throw them off track.
12. when signing someone in to a dorm that has security [towers, ingram, north, etc] and your friend is off campus, but from the nashville area, do not write his/her correct name down. nosy people look through these lists.
13. best method of establishing a lurk connection = instant messager, as long as u close out the application afterwards. cant be traced.
14. don't be ashamed if you are indeed caught lurking. you're getting yours and the haters are greeeeeeeen.

starbucks with superman.

so in the middle of
the sweetest dream on my self imposed 'day off from studying'
i get a 4 page text from
superman thanking me for being a good friend while
he was going through his and
asked me if i wanted to go to starbucks
chill and talk.

i obliged and in 20 minutes
me with my peppermint hot chocolate
him with his caramel macchiato
caught up and got wrapped up in each other's tales

and even though i see
that he has gotten a hold of kryptonite and
it made me want to cry to see him
struggling to fly because he left
his self confidence on his nightstand i still
think the world of him and i appreciate
that he is humble enough and
trusts me enough to
let me
save him

finals.

i dont think i sleep anymore
and i havent eaten so many
milky way bars ever in life or
drank so many cups of coffee but
finals week 2008 has been
absolutely draining.

and at the same time i really
am wrapping everything up
and leaving what should be left
in this semester
and leaving who should be left
in this semester
behind
in this semester

auto-pilot.

a funny thing happens during exam week. mere mortals turn into mutants with the ability to stay up 36 hours straight, surviving only on hot chocolate and milky way bars. for an A, people will stay up all nite, in the most uncomfortable and compromising positions. some people will lie. some people will steal. some people will wear a green sweatshirt with orange leggings. all are crimes, all are against the law, but for some reason, during exam week, the game changes.

so last night/this morning, i had to have looked like i was strung out on drugs. slurred speech. walking with a limp. memory impairment. vision blurred. sprawled out on the floor taking naps. there was no way in hell i was going to let PSCI 204 beat me.

my exam started at 9 am. no real sleep in 36 hours. i get my exam booklet. multiple choice: difficult but not unbearable. id questions: straight. short answers: my head gets heavy. i start writing unintelligble things "frederick douglass went to a party last night". the next thing i know, my professor is tapping me on the shoulder, waking me up.

i go to the bathroom. throw water on my already horrific looking face. bounce around. stretch. do old cheer routines. anything to get me back in the game.

i come back in to the lecture hall. knock the essay out the park. A.

come back to my room. go to bed at 11 am. wake up at 3 pm. cannot go back to sleep. cannot figure out WHY i cannot go back to sleep. my body is on auto-pilot and i can't turn this shit off.

him [the phone call].

i didn't realize until last night
when i found myself stuck, sad
and needing advice
he was the first person i called

and although i've known him for
little more than a season or so
i feel like i can trust him
with almost everything

and my friends think he's sketchy
and won't be along for the ride when
it gets rough but he's proven to me
that he's down

back then when i first met him
i would have died if you told me that
now my days feel a little uneven
if i haven't heard from him

is he only in my life
for a season or two, i can't say
all that matters now is when i call
he always picks up

the rain.

as usual, i'm improperly dressed
for inclimate weather but today
legit caught me off guard and
when it rained, it poured

although half of my perm
is seeping in the earth somewhere
between towers 2 and wilson hall
i felt cleansed like my paster
dipped me back those years ago
and i came up sputtering
and brand new

others around me were walking
briskly trying to get to where the
had to go as quickly as possible
dodging raindrops like bullets but
the little chocolate girl
sans umbrella was walking
slow and steady
savoring the aroma

inspiration.

every time i find myself in central library
which isn't often
i always pass this old photograph that makes me
want to press on

two black men, after graduation
peabody lawn
in the 1950's
surrounded by their mothers
and sisters wearing box hats
and frilled dresses

and it makes me think
that if they can do it
during the worst of times
i should be able
in the best of times

and every time i walk past that photo
general logic seems a little less
difficult

my brother and me.

the blood in our veins are from
two sets of people who have never
met but he is my brother as much
as the grass is green and the sky
is blue and the sun rises in the east
and sets in the west.

and lately our bond has gotten us
into trouble, sitting in chairs waiting
for the man to beat us down until
chocolate colored pulp but
we beat the case because its not
in our DNA to lose. it's true.


and as much as i enjoy playing him
teasing him and sometimes straight up
disrespecting him no one
no one can do that but me because
that's my little brother.

cause when his swag is off i'll let him know
and when he's being wack i'll tell him and
if the outfit is poppin i'll give him props but
if the gear is wack i'll tell him that too and
i expect the same from him even when
i dont want to hear it but we're family so
we say whatever we feel.

and late at night its nothing for me
to sit on his bed, mean comfortable and chill
or him to be in my room with his pajamas on
because we talk about what's good
what's not
and what we can do to make this better and
even if it's at 7 am he calls me about some bullshit
or if i'm calling him 9 am the morning after a party
it's cool.

and i dont think we particularly
look alike or sound the same but
anyone who knows us knows that
we're not just cool
we're family

to fly, to fly.

we are
in this together but separate and
this road is long and the
journey is too so i'm glad i
have a traveling partner to
share stories with and listen
to shitty country songs to

we're driving but we
aspire to sprout wings and fly
but
even if i stay grounded
for the rest of my life, to see
you take off and
soar
would be incredible

rekonnektion.

i woke up today like it was khristmas
and then i felt sick to the stomach
because i forgot that while things arent bad
they arent exactly right either.

we used to talk about this day
with krazy excitement and anticipation
and while i was making my sign i kouldnt help
but wonder if you'd even appreciate it.

but by the end of the night
after your sons had krossed we
presented you with the big sign
2.5 by 1 ft squared of love
to my surprise you smiled
and beamed and hugged like
it was khristmas.

and it was then i got it
things change
neos become prophytes
prophytes become oldheads
i've become Me
and you've become You
and even though we kant
be who we used to be
perhaps
we kan turn something old into
something new

the inevitable awkward class discussion on race.

so yesterday in my political science class, we resumed discussion on 'the race question.' race is one of my favorite topics, for a variety of reasons, but i knew that i couldn't say anything today because "they" would expect me too. professor mcdaniel asked question after question about dubois, BTW, garvey, X, mlk, carmichael, leaders that i am extremely well versed in and could speak volumes of. but everytime his questions drew a pregnant pause, i saw heads turn in linden and my direction, expecting us to be the little black ambassadors on race. i played stupid and looked at the ceiling. i think linden looked at the wall. either way, we were not going to entertain these white people and be walking talking negro encyclopedias for a day, only to ignore our presence the next class period.
this discussion usually turns up once in a semester, and i'm usually more embarrassed but yesterday i was angry and i wanted to throw the souls of black folk down and walk the hell out but that's probably blasphemous. WEB is my boy, after all.

feelin it

some point today, i dont even remember when, i got a glimpse of myself in a window and i was like, damn.
and im not just being funny or conceited because any one who really knows me knows that im mean self conscious but. today i looked at my reflection and i saw a beautiful, put together, chocolate woman who looked mean confident. it was crazy. it was like.. i cant describe it.
and i know that sounds really random and not a big deal but lately, i know i've been my worst critique. and i know i've been beating myself up and letting others get the best of me but for that moment, i walked across the sarratt promenade and you couldn't tell me nothin. i was feelin it.

defying defiance.

they say good girls wanna get down with the gangsters

i've lived my life trying to defy the stereotype
and stay away from dudes like you

but right now
i don't want to be
an exception to this rule

what hurts the most.

what hurts the most
after being so close
is that in my heart i know
things will never be the same again.

and right now we can talk
and smile and say hello
be cordial and exchange niceties
but it's not good enough.

i want you to be happy
no matter what and you seem
to feel this way with her so
i'm happy for you.

but the fact you can't make
room for two women in your life
that love you differently, but
love you all the same -

i'm tired of writing about you.
i want to delete this post.
the fact that i still give a damn,
i guess. that's what hurts the most.

vsdub.

1 lebanese dude from boston
1 blonde white boy from ohio
1 dominican dude from brooklyn
1 freckled black bruh from chattanooga
1 half haitian girl from cincinnati
1 night out of the busiest week in
1 room of the bcc basement taking
1 turn at a time spitting poetry and
1 by 1 we're turning ideas into magic and
1 day soon we'll speak and they'll listen.

the cool

so i'm back at vandy
cleaning and trying to make
my room "exam study friendly"
for the nights that im too sleepy
to go to the commons and
the mornings that i will inevitably
wake up and have to cram cram cram

and i think about
the week that has passed and
the week before break seems
so far in my rear view and
the feelings i felt then
i think
i'll just leave them back there.

but now that i am back
sitting here, blackberrying my
impending week from hell, part 8,
i can't help but think about you

and it's funny
how i can tell every other dude
i have met that i'm THE baddest and
absolutely mean it but
when i try to say it to you
we both just
laugh. and i sorta kinda miss you
even though you're sorta kinda right here and
i wish i could tell you this
but at the risk of losing cool points
i'll just sit here and look pretty

the questions.

so i must admit
after a fresh perm
a mini spree at the mall
and poppin lipgloss
ya girl was looking
damn good when i went
to walmart this evening to get
what i needed for the
remainder of the semester from hell.

and i'm in the cosmetic section
perusing maybelline lipgloss
[yeah, i had some on. but you
can never have enough] and i was
in the middle of trying to figure out
if papaya splash smells better to me than
watermelon fresh when this employee

[male, black, almond colored,
about 6 foot even,
broad shoulders,
fresh post-thanksgiving fade, crisp khakis
new looking sperrys, straight teeth,
big smile]

wearing a name tag that yelled
RUSSELL in big black letters tapped me
on my shoulder.

i stood up and put on my mug
because i thought he was going to accuse me of
stealing lip gloss but
from his
full lips, he asked me,

where's your man?

and i just sort of stood there, looking
really stupid. papaya splash in one hand,
watermelon fresh in the other.
i tried to gather my bearings,
re-establish the cool points i clearly lost
licked my lips slowly, squinted my
already chinky eyes and put my hand on
my pronounced hips.

i don't have one, i declared.

you're lying, he stated.

why would i lie? i asked.

because. you look like
the type of girl - excuse me -
the type of woman who would have
a nigga like me on lockdown.


[insert awkward, 10 second pause]


he smiles.
i frown.

well, i say
i guess appearances can be deceiving then,
as i put both papaya and watermelon
back in their respective places.

they're scared of you, russell said.

what? i ask.

i don't even know you, miss,
but i can already tell that
you would make a nigga work for his
and niggas don't like to work for anything
except...you know. he said.

yeah. i know, i replied.

i tried to stand up tall
and make myself look tough.

russ-ell, i breathed slowly.
why are you asking me all these questions?

i don't know, he said.
because i noticed you.
you're a beautiful woman and
your gear is tight but
you looked like you're missing something.

like what, i asked.

like love, he said.

[awkward silence, recommences]

and if you ever wanted to not
be lonely, he continued,
i work at register 23,
monday through friday. so maybe
one saturday you'll let me
take you out and
love you for a night.

i pick up my purse and
pat down my hair and
straighten my skirt and
i say to him

i'm too busy for love
right now but the next time
i come back home
maybe
i'll stop by
register 23.

he gives me a half smile as i
walk past him
trying to convince myself to
believe the words
that just came out of my mouth.

coming attractions.

The LSAT.
premiering: June 2009.










what if i fail?

the future freaks me out.

if i could wear what i wanted to an interview,
i would wear my favorite magenta leggings,
my blue bonnet my favorite bright ass
paisley forever 21 print top and some
ripped jeans. and my big red purse.

but instead

i'm sitting here this itchy black suit
starched white collar that took me
30 minutes to steam iron correctly
pointed toe heels that i keep rolling
my ankle under in and a smedium
wristlet that holds virtually, nothing.
but it's alright
because in the future
this is what i,
a successful lawyer,
will wear.

so at my interview
for a prestigious atlanta law firm
trying to get an internship this summer
i put on my best please-take-me-seriously
i'm-n0t-just-another-little-colored-girl
-i-go-to-vanderbilt-and-i-can-write-my-ass-off
about-anything-and-i-work-well-with-people
and-i-type-quicker-than-mavis-beacon-so
please-please-pick-me smile.

and she asks me
why i want to be a lawyer.
and thinking about it now
hours later
i could have said all kinds of impressive shit
that would have made her book my flight
delta, first class, for atlanta, georgia
but instead, i said,

i want to change the world.

it was the only thing
on my blissfully honest mind.

she studied my earnest face, smiled,
widely,
and said,
me too.
and proceeded with the interview.

i walked out
into the chill midwestern air
pigeoned toed, because i hate these damn shoes
fell into my car
drove home
and started looking for
summer apartment leases
available in atlanta

his return, part 2.

i hadn't seen him in months but he looked
as handsome as the day i met him
my junior year in highschool. and we gave
each other the obligatory side hug
the one you use with ex-lovers
when i came down stairs, and i sat down at the table and
proceeded to eat my weight in ham.

his green eyes pierced into mine
and i asked him to pass the cranberry sauce
and he obliged. and held my hand. and i just
sat there, looking stupid, missing him
missing us
even though he was three feet to my left.

i went upstairs to take my post grubbage siesta
and he came into my room and sat
on the side of my bed and we
made small talk and he mentioned how he wanted
to straighten his curly mane and i was like yo,
i have a chi flat iron. let's get it.

so with a pink chi in my hand and
220 pounds of ex-boyfriend leaning on me
i proceeded to straighten his locks, sizzling
making him look like one of prince's backup singers.
oddly androgynous. it was a terribly funny idea.

and while i was chi-ing, i dont even think thats a word,
we talked about everything that used to be
and i felt his shoulders relax their tension
and his head leaned against my chest as i attempted
to straighten his back.

45 minutes later he looked like a lebanese lion.
and i don't think i have laughed that hard in years
he was horrified but thought it was funny all the same.
he tickled me, put the chi down and kissed me on my
forehead on my
cheeks on my
lips and held me like he used to
before 300 miles got in between
the only love i could ever attest to.
and it was like nothing had changed. i was still
17 and a cheerleader and he was still 17 and
playing football and we had all the time
to figure out the rest of our lives.
together.

i started to cry and i'm not really sure if its
because i missed him or
i missed us or i missed
home or i missed feeling loved
but in his arms
i could have been in a middle of a monsoon
the eye of a hurricane in the
path of a tornado because i hadn't
felt that safe
in such a long time.

damn.

his return, part 1.

so i guess in 12 hours time
i will have eaten, and passed out with my dog
on the couch while my brother and dad
watch the cowboys play some unfortunate team
[as long as it's not us] and he's there too.
like he has been. for the past three thanksgivings.

i guess the story about him is that well
i used to love him
and now he kicks it with my brother
and pretends that he and i are still tight
the 4th thursday of every november.

the first thanksgiving, we were together.
and in love and he and my daddy shot hoops
afterwards and i took pictures and it was cute.
last thanskgiving, we werent together
but we were in love and i took pictures and he
wrestled with my cousin and it was cute.
this thanksgiving, after this year's...drama
we aren't in love and i won't be taking pictures
of his fine
sexy
finesexyfineeeeesexy lebanese ass because i don't
want to remind myself and get
caught up in bad habits.

i don't want to see him, but i do.
but i really don't want
whatever feelings i used to have
to reemerge onto a thanksgiving table
while daddy is blessing the food, i'm falling
back in love with this boy, before
my mom even asks me do i
want some greens [of course i do].

so i'll leave him alone. yeah.
only speak to him to ask him to pass
the cranberry sauce.

but if he starts getting all cute
smiling his perfect smile wearing
that sweater i got him last christmas
and starts whispering in my ear
uh.

aww maneeee.

grading me.

now that i have the time to really
sit down and

think

i'm thinking about the semester that has
elapsed and i'm taking a red pen
to all the things i've done wrong
could have been better
or should have deleted all together.

and looking at this paper
titled fall 2008 and
it's bleeding and if i was generous
i'd give myself a C+.

as far as the plot:
junior year. chock full of
academic challenges and dealing with
the space between undergraduate life
and the
real world. as far as the romance:
various suitors, some taken more
seriously than others. hopefully
the ones that matter will stick around
for the next assignment. as far as
the friendships: not as many as
last year. a main
friendship has been eliminated,
which creates an interesting twist
but leaves the reader
[and the author] with a bitter taste
in her mouth.


and while all of this sounds depressing,
i'll take a C+ because luckily
there's still time for extra credit.

cincin[nasti].

8 hours on greyhound hell
from one city with a funny sounding c name
to another
speeding down the highway, i'm alone.
going home.

homeward bound to the home i've been
denying they ask me
where i'm from and i say that city in
the midwest where we still
riot in the 21st century
there are a thousand recipes for chili
and jerry springer is our native son.

and 7 hours in i wonder
why i am even going home at all
until we turn the bend in
northern kentucky that i've always considered
to be the most beautiful view and
there's my city at night
glistening gleaming
absolutely stunning
sitting silently,
welcoming its prodigal daughter home.

and i hop off the bus and
fall into my mother's arms and
drive the route back home and
get bowled over by my dog's love and
get kissed on the forehead by daddy and
get put in a full nelson by my little brother and
it's then i know
that no matter how hard i try
or how far i will go i can never
truly distance myself
from home.

housekeeping // superman

sidenote:

hey world. i know of a few people [and probably a few more] who started reading my blog. that's cool and all, but real talk - it's not all going to be poetry, or rhyme, or even make any damn sense. it's just an outlet. which yall are welcome to read but, as ms badu says, i'm an artist and i'm sensitive about my shit.

that being said, here's a blog full of poems and worthy of reading : illuminatemics.blogspot.com
this is my dude nate's blog. he's a freshman at vandy, he's from the chi [lame, but still], and he's been on a different level as of late so checkemout.


and with all the housekeeping out of the way, here's today's piece:



superman

i feel like i've always called you that because
you seem to do it all
go to class
stay AWAKE eat balanced meals
have the audacity to work out every day
do all of your school work and still had the time
to get some coffee and kick it with me.

i can't figure out where you hide your cape
or what telephone booth you change in but
you've saved me time and time again and
i want to repay you in the best
and worst
way

and i don't usually believe in superheroes
any nigga wearing spandex is not my cup of tea
but i've seen you in action, and
damn
sometimes seeing is believing

him, minus one.

so we were talking at dinner
about you and angie mentioned
that she had done some facebook stalking and
that you're back on the market.

i almost got whiplash how quickly
i turned my head to get my blackberry out
do some facebook stalking my damn self
and confirmed this to be true.

and i try to contain my glee because
you've done this before with her because
three years is a long time because
well. it just is. but i think
and clearly im biased but you should
let it burn. or, hell. let me set it on fire
for you.

and i remember that conversation we
had awhile back well
more like a month ago
when i told you that
we couldn't be friends because i wanted
you more than that and every dude
i have thought about talking to
since i met you i have compared
to you but they never add up so you see
its driving me crazy and we need to take a break.

so we took a break. but we got back together
in the platonic sense and you've been there
for me ever since but ever since that night
when you were like
if i didn't have a girl
me and you would work
.
..
...


well. let's get to work.

mating season.

today we went to the tennessee aquarium
and although it seems stupid
to pay for money to learn some shit
when we are trying to BREAK but we had the
bestttt time.

one of the exhibits this year was a penguin exhibit.
i always loved them. i clapped and clapped.
and upon further observance
of penguin behavior i realized that we
as in they and us
are not that different.

there was this one penguin, im assuming was a male
who was apparently trying to court
this female penguin, who was staring at the wall.
and also assumingly, to successfully court a female penguin
you need to bring her something she wants,
like a fish or two,
and she'll give him her affection.

anyway, this penguin
kept digging out ice chips from this chest
waddling up and dropping the chips at her feet
waiting for her response.
but she shook her head and denied him
doesn't his dumbass know that she wants a fish?
and he came back
nine, ten, eleven times
placing ice chips at her feet, each time
she is visibly getting more frustrated. this penguin
wasn't bringing shit to the table.

i felt her pain
and i hope that one day
the both of us will find that male
who will bring to us what we
need the most.

country grammar.

speeding through the mountains of eastern tennessee
[well not speeding. angie was too scared]
we leave our vandy cards behind
[proverbially. because we have to return. eventually]
and leave the drama behind too
[or at least. we try]

and on the way there we talk
about the present surroundings
about times past
about a land called senior year
looming not too far in the distance

and we're going 50 in a 65
but time is flying by so fast that
50 is just fine and we speak slower
more deliberate as we
drive up signal mountain and the
air becomes thinner and all the
bad thoughts and feelings
come out the top of my dome and
drift off into God's sky.

all these things that i've done.

at the club tonight
reggae, our favorite.
a month ago
a year ago
two years ago
we wouldn't have just happened to
run in to each other there
by chance you would have
called me at 5 pm with this evening's
game plan and we would have left
and made a grand entrance together.

and tonight,
the music was jookin
as usual and me and the girls
were wylin
[especially me. you know how i do]
and we were dancing in the same circle
through association but not
dancing together.

and it was crazy because
one of "our songs" would come on
we'd both go crazy
start doing the moves that we made up
a billion years ago in your room
and we'd share a smile
for half a second and then we'd remember
that we aren't friends anymore. so we stopped
dancing
looked down and felt awkward.

and we all left that same time
because we run the same circle of friends but
before we all departed hugs were
distributed and hopes of safe travels
back home were given out except you
and i walked past each other
as if two months ago you weren't planning
to bless the food at my thanksgiving table
as if i didn't cradle your head in my lap
in the backseat of a car while you
were damn near dead
as if we completely forgot
that we used to be all each other needed.

it's taken me this long to admit it
but now that i get it
i realize that
no matter
what you do
i'll always
always care about you.
and tonight there were so many things
i wanted to tell you and you were
2 feet away from me but
we let 2 other people
get between
what used to be.


damn, bighead.
i miss you.

lost and found.

so
i feel like the past 24 or so hours
have been a more or less summation
of my semester. thus far.

and
i'd be lying if i said that
i'm not upset and i'd be lying
if i said that i don't care and i'd
really really be lying if i said
that i don't care about him because.
i do. and i do. and i really do.
but sometimes
you lose a battle.

and
tonight with the girls
over dinner
talking and reminiscing and being around
the people who know me
best and i don't have to
put on a face for, well.
that's rare. and for everytime
that i get my feelings hurt,
get upset,
or lose a battle,
i know that i can always find a home
in the hearts of my four best friends.


and with all of that being said,
and with all of this madness
swirling around me --


--i'm still
the luckiest girl in the world.

4th meal.

so i go down stairs to the munchie mart
korey is there as usual
we chat and i wait until midnight
to finally calm my stomach and get the usual
late night snack:
orange soda, naked juice, banana

and then all of a sudden
the two of them walk in
like a bootleg bonnie and clyde
and it seems like korey turned
the temp up in the munchie mart to
200 degrees i was on mother
fucking
fire and i was sweating like an african slave.

i dont even stop to chat with korey tonight
i grab my purchases and dip
press the elevator button for up
repeatedly
as if it will be aware of the urgency
that it knows my ex best friend
and his girlfriend are coming up right behind me
so open up and SAVE ME SAVE ME

my luck has been bad as of late and
tonight seems to be no different
as the elevator door opens up wide
as soon as they arrive behind me.

the three of us in this ascending box
the two of them hand in hand
me clutching to my banana
no words to be said
after two and a half years
what more can i say?

i get off on my floor
and the cold front left behind
from the frostiest elevator ride ever
makes me turn my thermostat on
and i warm my hands over the heater

daydreaming

so the past 20 or so hours have been
like a daydream that you
try to wake yourself up from but
you're stuck in.

.......


you know what, i don't even know what to say.
we'll see.

the three.

the two of us
were the first people he met
that july two years ago
and then we became three.

and the three of us
sat on a couch
for three hours
and strived for a compromise.

although this should have been settled
last year when it was 3[+1]
and now that the [+1] is his [-1]
and she's the 1 who is trying to
destroy and dismantle what we've built.

but the three of us
have been through hell and back before
so what the hell. why not
once more.

the world, post paper.

i planned to wake up and write my paper at 6 am.
i woke up at 11 am, screaming.
i wrote 7 pages in 2.5 hours.
i turned the paper in before class started and walked out.
i saw my long lost love sylvia and i screamed and shouted.
i got an e-mail that is both horrifying and hilarious at the same time.
i am trying to conserve my meal plan so this dinner better be good.
i need to take a nap because my head is going to explode.
enough about me. let's talk about you.

korey.

korey works at the munchie mart in my dorm.
and he's seen me in some of my finest/
most embarrassing/ most scandalous
moments but he claims i'm still his favorite
'customer'. 

so lately, 
korey has been giving me advice on a variety
of subjects but tonight we resumed a conversation
we had last weekend about a situation that i feel like
im stuck in.

korey told me that im 20 years old
in a college full of niggas so i shouldn't
even be concerned with just one. and i explained to korey
that not everyone can grow up to be a whore like him.
true, he said. but don't let your ego and pride
blindside you. you're stubborn. and you'll
end up fighting for something
for someone
that you don't even really want.

courtesy call.

i really thought he lost my number
but i shouldn't have been too surprised
when my phone rang and his name popped up
trying to get back in good with me
because i'll be back home this weekend
and he thinks it'll be like old times.

i accepted the call but kept my distance.
i told him i was busy doing work
which i was
and that i'd call him back.

i used to wonder
where the love went
between the two of us. i think it
evaporated. or
exploaded or keeled over and died.

but
im not in the business
of resuscitating SHIT
over my thanksgiving break.

the political science 204 study brigade.

so as usual,
the psci 204 study brigade
meets in its not so secret location
the monday before a ridiculous assignment is due.

this time is a little different
the three of us are weary
ready for thanksgiving and generally
feeling like zombies.

amanda, usually chipper
is drugged up on pain killers
and reading internet media blogs.

linden, usually sarcastic and funny
is somber and focused
like he wants to legit murder this paper. and our professor.

and me, usually fairly optimistic
is ten degrees beyond frustration
and literally planning my weekend out in my mind.

people in glass rooms shouldn't be in glass rooms
when they have seven pages on the american democracy
due tomorrow.

deactivation, part deux

so yesterday i decided to deactivate my facebook
idk. b/c i was in one of my moods and i really
didnt't feel like dealing with anyone.

but around 3 pm today i got mad bored
and i reactivated it. i suck.

but then i realized just now i have this paper
mean ass 7 page joint
due tomorrow and it will not write itself
so again, i deactivate.

let's see how long this lasts.

the writing studio.

so today i had to go to the writing studio to visit with my professor to discuss my latest paper. she liked it but there still were kinks that needed to be worked out, as with all papers. i hate philosophy, but i like her. and i really like the writing studio. it's green. i like green, so it's fine.

anyway, we talked about descartes [wack] and spinoza [wacker] and i basically charmed my way into explaining why my paper wasnt the 'required' 5 -6 pages [it was four] but she said the content was so good it was cool. yeah.

i have a tendency of steering my professors off topic and today was no different. my professor told me about a story she heard on NPR last night about people whose profession it is to establish some connection to people who die alone by going through their homes and looking for artifacts. apparently this one woman was a packrat but the only personal information they found about her was a christmas card sent to her 30 years ago. the team tracked down the senders and they did not remember sending the card, nor did they have any recollection of who the woman was. damn.

insomnia, #1

i guess since i slept for mad long today and since today was fairly hellish, i was restless around 1 am and decided to harass christine. she and i started talking about different subjects and then jeannette walked in. the three of us proceeded to guess where each other would grow up to live and what type of man we could see each other marrying.

• christine = white man named pete, from san francisco, fairly chill but REALLY funny and enthusiastic. they'd have to live in new york because christine isnt living anywhere else.
  
• jeannette = some halfsie or some weird hybrid of raciality named Birk [not his real name, but he changed it bc it sounds more eco-friendly]. they would have two kids, clover and sky, and live in a treehouse.
• me = the girls deduced that i would marry someone who would completely zone out on sundays during 'game days' and it would piss me off but i'd love him so i'd get over it. also, they decided this man has to be mad chill to balance out my....me-ness. and he'd have to be fairly comfortable with the fact that i'll probably be a crazy paid badass.

so this discussion went on for awhile then aba happened to wake up and joined in the convo. we started talking about organ donations, jonbenet ramsey, ghana, allergy shots, brooklyn, and everything in between. the white girl who lives between christine and i beat on the wall and yelled SHUT UP and i almost got up and handled her but i regained composure.

anyway, this went on for awhile but then we all got sleepy and christine kicked us out. this is what we do on the 11th floor.

2nd street.

the leaves hadn't fallen yet
but we already were
inseparable and rumors
swirled as they usually do but we
were too awkward to
bring them to light

and one night i was in your room
as usual and we wanted
to go to bb kings and see a jazz set
but you thought it was too late but
i was unwilling to take no for an answer
and we ran out of hemingway hall
hailed a cab and headed to 2nd

we were the youngest people there by far
your goatee hadn't grown in yet
and i still had brown streaks in my braids but
we sat ourselves down in a cramped table
and listened to darnell levine croon and wail
the candles on the table smelled like
promise passion and love
subjects that we hadn't
yet got into our freshmen year in college
subjects that we avoided our sophomore year
subjects we are avoiding as i type this

and after the show it was cold
and that night the trees on 2nd
bid adieu to their dying leaves and you
had your arm around me, keeping me warm.

and on the way home, we said nothing
while the cabbie played miles davis
our silence was sweet and its vibrato hung in the air
we said nothing, and it spoke volumes

linden franklin.

my mother always told me that there are
some people that when you meet them,
you'll know. you'll just know.

she never embellished on what i
should know but when i met him
i knew that he was the one
that i knew i should be aware of knowing.
if that makes sense.

that was over a year ago when
he was that transfer student that
answered all the questions in class
and i was the sophomore girl who
attended psci 249 only when i had
a paper due but when we finally met
i knew.

and he is the type of man who'll leave the
sports bar on a sunday
tear himself from his beloved carolina panthers
and listen to me cry
about some other nigga who broke my heart
again
and will sit quietly in my multicolored room
in the chair in the corner and listen patiently.

and during finals time we
depend on each other like ying and yang
like day and night like wrong and right
he's my alarm clock, calling me at
4:00 am
waking me from a semblance of sleep
telling me to get up and finish
our paper that's due at 11 am.

and when i tried to push him away
because i was uncomfortable with the fact that
a man genuinely cared about me
and didn't want anything in return he still
held on and i held on to his body
wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders
sobbing.

i pray for him every night
and i thank God for
transfer students