We'd like to think that we are superior beings; that we uphold moral fiber, and are wonderful people with upstanding character. Truth be told, we are quite opposite--everyday is a fight to mask the darkness inside us; each time we successfully continue to hide what is buried deep within us, we discover there are more bones in our proverbial closet, making us discover new ways to put on masks and new ways to hide the bones, furthering our facades. In reality, it makes us all fake--we fear being discovered--we do not want any one to discover just how sick we are...
What we fear most is judgment passed on us--our real selves are carnal in nature, and have twisted thoughts and sick desires; we become who we portray ourselves to be--successfully becoming skilled actors and actresses. The most sane among us are the insane--for they have removed their masks and have revealed their true selves, sacrificing normal lives because they couldn't contain their carnal desires. In fact, sanity is the ability to repress carnality; the ability to appear normal amongst society. However, if the truth were told, normal has always been relative to ones ability to mask what has been long hidden within them.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
The Gullah-Afro Rembrandt
The Gullah-Afro Rembrandt
Still images capture the Gullah culture.
Never seen it so beautiful
Except—
On the faces of the Gullah and Geechee people.
You capture the island and its splendor.
Calm island beauty in the summertime.
I can hear the souls calling—
the spirits of the island sounds spiritual
A low moan, a hum.
Rugged paths tell the story of those who traveled here.
They remain in the sea misted cites.
Still images capture the Gullah culture.
Never seen it so beautiful
Except—
On the faces of the Gullah and Geechee people.
You capture the island and its splendor.
Calm island beauty in the summertime.
I can hear the souls calling—
the spirits of the island sounds spiritual
A low moan, a hum.
Rugged paths tell the story of those who traveled here.
They remain in the sea misted cites.
Life After Death, Micro, NC
Life After Death
Micro, NC
I held your shirt and smelled your Hugo Boss cologne,
I nestled in your nook; rolled up where you slept.
Just like when I was a baby, I wrapped in your shirt, so I could sleep.
The next morning, I lay in your spot red-eyed.
I watched my sister sleep peacefully.
Her snore sounded like a quieter version of yours.
I looked at your beloved trading card binder.
It was empty.
Micro, NC
I held your shirt and smelled your Hugo Boss cologne,
I nestled in your nook; rolled up where you slept.
Just like when I was a baby, I wrapped in your shirt, so I could sleep.
The next morning, I lay in your spot red-eyed.
I watched my sister sleep peacefully.
Her snore sounded like a quieter version of yours.
I looked at your beloved trading card binder.
It was empty.
Lasting Memories
Lasting Memories
At the funeral parlor, the director warned us
not to go see my father before he was cremated.
I pictured his body on a cold cot, alone.
His body had swollen,
his nose was broken,
and his face was twisted.
I saw his massive body become gargantuan.
I saw the pieces of his nose—jagged and bloody—
I saw the skin hang off the center of his face—
while sitting in the chair
surrounded by my family.
At the funeral parlor, the director warned us
not to go see my father before he was cremated.
I pictured his body on a cold cot, alone.
His body had swollen,
his nose was broken,
and his face was twisted.
I saw his massive body become gargantuan.
I saw the pieces of his nose—jagged and bloody—
I saw the skin hang off the center of his face—
while sitting in the chair
surrounded by my family.
It's Days Like Today That Makes Me Question My Sanity
I thought I had my future mapped out. This perfect plan on how I was to become Dr. Beatrice Pate MD. The future has arrived and I am no closer to that goal than I was when I graduated high school.
I now have two degrees I will not use, and on top of that I have to figure out how I am going to pay for these classes, then the GRE, and finally if everything happens to work out, the MCAT.
I have failed so many times, honestly, I don't know if I can pick myself up from this one. I have fought so hard, that I don't remember a time that I haven't been fighting.
Yet I feel like my struggle is minor compared to others--I feel like I shouldn't even be complaining.
It's an awful thing to feel conflicted--I am conflicted often....
Sometimes I cannot find the words to explain how I feel. Even if I could, there is no one near me that will actually listen. You know, they won't take the time to hear me, or will not pass judgment or tell me about their problems.
Can anybody hear me? No?
Well I guess that I will keep writing into oblivion.
I now have two degrees I will not use, and on top of that I have to figure out how I am going to pay for these classes, then the GRE, and finally if everything happens to work out, the MCAT.
I have failed so many times, honestly, I don't know if I can pick myself up from this one. I have fought so hard, that I don't remember a time that I haven't been fighting.
Yet I feel like my struggle is minor compared to others--I feel like I shouldn't even be complaining.
It's an awful thing to feel conflicted--I am conflicted often....
Sometimes I cannot find the words to explain how I feel. Even if I could, there is no one near me that will actually listen. You know, they won't take the time to hear me, or will not pass judgment or tell me about their problems.
Can anybody hear me? No?
Well I guess that I will keep writing into oblivion.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Fears Actualized Pt. 3
So I may not go to graduate school because USC Aiken is playing around with my money for my 3rd degree.
Let me clarify.
I want to be a doctor. But because of various situations going on during my undergraduate career, I put off taking my science classes, because I didn't want to lower my GPA. In addition, in order to get into medical school, I have to go to graduate school for Biology to prove that I can handle graduate school science work. In order to go to Grad school, I first prove that I am capable of handling undergrad science.
See where this is going?
My hope is to enroll at Midlands...that is my backup plan in case Aiken doesn't come through like it is supposed to...
Crap...my future is hinging on this moment right here...
I wish I had rich relatives or someone to care for me so that this wouldn't be my concern....
But it is...
Just gotta have faith that everything will work out...that and putting action toward it...
Peace and Blessings.
Let me clarify.
I want to be a doctor. But because of various situations going on during my undergraduate career, I put off taking my science classes, because I didn't want to lower my GPA. In addition, in order to get into medical school, I have to go to graduate school for Biology to prove that I can handle graduate school science work. In order to go to Grad school, I first prove that I am capable of handling undergrad science.
See where this is going?
My hope is to enroll at Midlands...that is my backup plan in case Aiken doesn't come through like it is supposed to...
Crap...my future is hinging on this moment right here...
I wish I had rich relatives or someone to care for me so that this wouldn't be my concern....
But it is...
Just gotta have faith that everything will work out...that and putting action toward it...
Peace and Blessings.
Simple Things
simple things
Every April Fool’s Day, my daddy’s youngest sister did something to fool us—
when I was eight, living in D.C. she told us we had no school
I was suspicious. I kept asking her
“You for real?” Yup, she assured me. “Don’t play Dot-Dot.”
“We got school?” Nope, she replied, and we jumped for joy
only for her to tell us “April Fool’s!”
when I was eleven, back home in N.C.
she told us that she’d won a million dollars
and she was sending us five hundred a piece
In 2003, shrieks from my sister and
the thud from the phone let me
know that not much had changed during the holiday.
Caller ID said Dorothy Ray. Dot-Dot.
she’d asked for an adult, but Charity assured her that no one was home.
smiling, she probably figured that Dot-Dot never missed this holiday.
But Dot-Dot insisted.
So did Charity.
Dot-Dot explained that she found daddy in his house, in a pool of his own blood.
As my sister cried, I figured it could not be what I felt it to be.
“Daddy dddd-ied” Charity sputtered through tears.
As my mother walked in she asked
What’s wrong baby?
My body too heavy to stand,
my head hit the table.
Every April Fool’s Day, my daddy’s youngest sister did something to fool us—
when I was eight, living in D.C. she told us we had no school
I was suspicious. I kept asking her
“You for real?” Yup, she assured me. “Don’t play Dot-Dot.”
“We got school?” Nope, she replied, and we jumped for joy
only for her to tell us “April Fool’s!”
when I was eleven, back home in N.C.
she told us that she’d won a million dollars
and she was sending us five hundred a piece
In 2003, shrieks from my sister and
the thud from the phone let me
know that not much had changed during the holiday.
Caller ID said Dorothy Ray. Dot-Dot.
she’d asked for an adult, but Charity assured her that no one was home.
smiling, she probably figured that Dot-Dot never missed this holiday.
But Dot-Dot insisted.
So did Charity.
Dot-Dot explained that she found daddy in his house, in a pool of his own blood.
As my sister cried, I figured it could not be what I felt it to be.
“Daddy dddd-ied” Charity sputtered through tears.
As my mother walked in she asked
What’s wrong baby?
My body too heavy to stand,
my head hit the table.
To All My Sisters Who Don't Wear Weaves
To All My Sisters
who don’t wear weaves
Inspired By Gwendolyn Brooks's To All My Sisters Who Have Kept their Naturals
Sisters who love themselves so much
that they will not perpetuate an image.
They will not push false versions of themselves.
They know beauty comes from within
and are strong
know true love
and stand tall
short hair and all
divas with caesar cut waves
bold with curled bobs
wrapped around their crown
They rock their hair their way.
they don’t buy any hair from a horse
or a corpse
They don’t see Jolie as themselves to be
Nor do they mimic ideas of society.
If they don’t have it to swing
They rock their own—go on Ms. Thing!
No imitations here
(everyone knows it’s not theirs)
[but I paid for it, so it’s mine!]
No claims of Indian ancestry—
[you know I got Indian in my family]
(really? what tribe?)
[Cherokee]
—just beauty for all to see.
who don’t wear weaves
Inspired By Gwendolyn Brooks's To All My Sisters Who Have Kept their Naturals
Sisters who love themselves so much
that they will not perpetuate an image.
They will not push false versions of themselves.
They know beauty comes from within
and are strong
know true love
and stand tall
short hair and all
divas with caesar cut waves
bold with curled bobs
wrapped around their crown
They rock their hair their way.
they don’t buy any hair from a horse
or a corpse
They don’t see Jolie as themselves to be
Nor do they mimic ideas of society.
If they don’t have it to swing
They rock their own—go on Ms. Thing!
No imitations here
(everyone knows it’s not theirs)
[but I paid for it, so it’s mine!]
No claims of Indian ancestry—
[you know I got Indian in my family]
(really? what tribe?)
[Cherokee]
—just beauty for all to see.
The Blue Urn
The Blue Urn
A picture taken at my grandmother’s
house sat in front of a blue urn. He had
a great, wonderful smile. I sit in the
pew thinking, “How will I ever look in the
mirror again?” His image haunts me, just like
the blue urn that is his final resting
place. They found him in a pool of his own
blood. He fell forward and broke his nose,
after a massive heart attack. He survived
long enough to bleed to death. Blue, the color
of blood without oxygen to change it
to the color red. Blue, the color of
the mood at my father’s funeral. Blue, the
color of his gargantuan urn. For years
it sits in my aunt’s living room beside
my grandmother’s urn. Already haunted by
his face, which I have—I possess, when I visit,
I’m haunted by him, his presence—I can
not sleep peacefully in the house. When I
look in the mirror, I see him. When I sleep, I
see him—Permanently, I am haunted—
haunted by his face, by his blue urn, and
his last letter that ended with Vaya Con
Dios. Go with God, Daddy. Please, go with God.
A picture taken at my grandmother’s
house sat in front of a blue urn. He had
a great, wonderful smile. I sit in the
pew thinking, “How will I ever look in the
mirror again?” His image haunts me, just like
the blue urn that is his final resting
place. They found him in a pool of his own
blood. He fell forward and broke his nose,
after a massive heart attack. He survived
long enough to bleed to death. Blue, the color
of blood without oxygen to change it
to the color red. Blue, the color of
the mood at my father’s funeral. Blue, the
color of his gargantuan urn. For years
it sits in my aunt’s living room beside
my grandmother’s urn. Already haunted by
his face, which I have—I possess, when I visit,
I’m haunted by him, his presence—I can
not sleep peacefully in the house. When I
look in the mirror, I see him. When I sleep, I
see him—Permanently, I am haunted—
haunted by his face, by his blue urn, and
his last letter that ended with Vaya Con
Dios. Go with God, Daddy. Please, go with God.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
I used to believe...
...in fair chances. That hard work would get you anywhere. That my faith would carry me a long way. But faith without works is dead, and I guess that no amount of belief can change that.
I used to hope and dream--dream that my success would mean that other people would succeed too....but I've failed at so many things.
I can't handle it anymore. I can't believe that life is supposed to be this hard. Well, I don't know what to do--
I can't even think.
No one hurts you quite like family.
I used to hope and dream--dream that my success would mean that other people would succeed too....but I've failed at so many things.
I can't handle it anymore. I can't believe that life is supposed to be this hard. Well, I don't know what to do--
I can't even think.
No one hurts you quite like family.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Fears Actualized Pt. 2
As graduation quickly approaches, I worry. I still have to pass the failed parts of the Spanish Exam. With my Spanish exam, it's either pass or fail, no in between. Even though I got a B in the class, if I fail the exam a second time, I will not graduate.
I know that I am an intelligent individual, but I can't focus. I try so hard, but I am so easily distracted. Focusing is more difficult than trying to catch a fish with my bare hands with no experience. Worst of all, I suffer from testing anxiety.
I am so fearful of my future at this moment. I can tell no one. They wouldn't understand. I am currently surrounded by my parents. They can only tell me about themselves or God, without giving practical advice. God does resolve all, but there are some things that you have to do for yourself. James 2:17 states Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. Now, I did have to look it up, but the point is, if you believe and you are not putting in work, it will not work.
I know that I am putting in the works. So could it be my faith?
My faith has been on the rocks lately. I am having a hard time understanding why God could allow people who are trying to suffer. Maybe I am not trying hard enough. But why can't he just speak to me and tell me so?
Again, I am not asking for a Saul like intervention (Saul the persecutor, not the King), but I need to know that you know I know you God. How am I to trust so blindly if I can't hear you?
Don't misinterpret these questions, because I know God exists. Jesus exists too. This isn't a question of my beliefs, but my individual faith... this isn't a post that is about God bashing, but it is an attempt to understand God and why his plan isn't evident, or even known. Maybe my problem is trying such a vast God that the human mind can't comprehend. But is a sign too much to ask for? Is confirmation and recognition that I am indeed your child too much to ask? I have troubled days, and I am feeling like I am walking alone.
I am reminded of Footprints, but I don't feel like God is carrying me, I feel like I am carrying the load all by myself. He promised he would never leave me. But why is it that I constantly feel alone?
Peace and Blessings.
Bea
I know that I am an intelligent individual, but I can't focus. I try so hard, but I am so easily distracted. Focusing is more difficult than trying to catch a fish with my bare hands with no experience. Worst of all, I suffer from testing anxiety.
I am so fearful of my future at this moment. I can tell no one. They wouldn't understand. I am currently surrounded by my parents. They can only tell me about themselves or God, without giving practical advice. God does resolve all, but there are some things that you have to do for yourself. James 2:17 states Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. Now, I did have to look it up, but the point is, if you believe and you are not putting in work, it will not work.
I know that I am putting in the works. So could it be my faith?
My faith has been on the rocks lately. I am having a hard time understanding why God could allow people who are trying to suffer. Maybe I am not trying hard enough. But why can't he just speak to me and tell me so?
Again, I am not asking for a Saul like intervention (Saul the persecutor, not the King), but I need to know that you know I know you God. How am I to trust so blindly if I can't hear you?
Don't misinterpret these questions, because I know God exists. Jesus exists too. This isn't a question of my beliefs, but my individual faith... this isn't a post that is about God bashing, but it is an attempt to understand God and why his plan isn't evident, or even known. Maybe my problem is trying such a vast God that the human mind can't comprehend. But is a sign too much to ask for? Is confirmation and recognition that I am indeed your child too much to ask? I have troubled days, and I am feeling like I am walking alone.
I am reminded of Footprints, but I don't feel like God is carrying me, I feel like I am carrying the load all by myself. He promised he would never leave me. But why is it that I constantly feel alone?
Peace and Blessings.
Bea
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