Thursday, March 29, 2007

My Road

As in, the one I’ve been traveling on has been: good hearted, naïve, scary, needy, all consuming, stressful, unique, powerful, bumpy, lonely, beautiful, barren, intoxicating, infuriating, brilliant and breathtaking. I am not at the end of this road, not even half way through it…however, tonight I am celebrating the particular destination I have decided to take a rest in, no, landed in. It reminds me of my trip to Morocco. Mother Africa through a glorious port in the north. I irrationally, inexplicably burst out in tears and dropped to my knees on the deck of the “fast ferry” boat I was on. I remember the feeling of raindrops on my face and my overwhelming reaction to the fact that I was about to be in Africa. I believe I was also in the middle of healing a bruised heart. Bruised from the blast back of having to break someone else’s (albeit totally unrealistic) dreams of a life with me. I also had unrealistic, unrequited feelings for another. I cried that day on the helm of that fast ferry for all of us, including mother Africa. Then I asked the customs agent not to stamp my passport (he did anyways – which is fine because I didn’t really have a good reason for asking in the first place, just wanted to feel mysterious I think). So yes, the road to Africa, for me, consisted of a walk (I was running), a wait (I was talking), a bus ride (I was sleeping) and a boat ride (I was crying). When I actually arrived in Africa I was CALM. I was HOME. I haven’t ever really questioned why I felt so at home, so in love, so alive. All I know is that once in Africa, on the bus ride to the big white city, we made a stop at a rest area. This rest stop was different than any I had ever been in. There were beautiful old trees that canopied the entire area. There was a light music playing on speakers and special washbasins to rinse off your face. There was an old man and a shared sandwich and an apple to keep me company and satiated. There was an emphasis on my personal comfort like none other I have felt before that moment or since then. It was just a roadside rest stop – but it reminds me of where my life is right now, minus Africa, the old man and the neat washbasins.

How I Feel About Paris Today

I feel closer than ever to Paris. One of my dear friends will be in Paris in two weeks time and I am so excited for him. I have helped and planned and been way too involved in someone else’s trip to Paris than what is normal, but I feel good about it. I am back to my old ways of apartment surfing Paris apartments – but this time with a vacation in mind. A vacation during which I will be able to evaluate what my dreams are – and how much I am willing to sacrifice for that city. It is good and natural and exactly what I should be doing. I miss Paris today, but Atlanta’s not feeling so bad either. There are big sweeping pink, white and purple trees adorning the green hue of the lake that reflects the city’s beautiful skyscrapers. Yea, I feel good about everywhere today.

May 25th 2004

Now on the bus on my way to casa I know for sure that I wasn’t ready before. Now I am ready, readier than ever. The bus just stopped at an “aire de repos” – rest stop. I ate a great sandwich and split an apple with this older man who has been guiding me since the bus stop in Fuengirola. We were the first ones waiting for the bus. We walked and he showed me the medina in Tangier and we had mint tea at a café where the bathroom was obviously never meant for a woman to use, but I did. It was utterly disgusting, but I guess I am a stronger person for doing it. He is an angel, this man. I feel that his presence was sent to me to help me along my way. I am happy and relaxed here. I am exactly where I need to be in this moment. Africa- Morocco, wide one spaces, fields of sunflowers and wild yellow, red and purple flowers growing on the side of the road. Vast expanses of blue Atlantic Ocean. Finally I am ready for you Morocco. I know I wasn’t before; it would have been too much. I had to have that Moroccan woman in Lille call me the devil first and I had to be prodded at by those women in the Paris suburbs. I had to make peace with my relationship with B, Youssef had to break my heart. Haq had to be deported and Natalia had to be considering marrying her Moroccan boyfriend and moving here – just like I was so many years ago. All of this had to happen first. And now I am ready for the intrusive stares from the older women and the men hissing. Every conversation I hear in Arabic sounds like it’s about to break into a fight and then I realize they are not on the verge of violence but laughter – maybe violence too – who knows – maybe it’s the same kind of emotion that drives it all. I can’t remember a time in my life when I’ve felt more where I’m supposed to be is where I’m at. My precious words have returned to me.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Oh my, I’ve forgotten to blog

for like over a week now! Horrible huh? Sorry about that. I’ve been tired, tired as hell actually. The 9-5 work week is kicking my butt. I like to say I’m still adjusting, but I wonder if I ever will fully adjust. I’ve also got other stuff going on – for instance- I am hosting the best baby shower ever! I am so excited about it. I know, I know that may seem weird – but sometimes a girl’s got to plan a big ole party and get way too excited about. For my sister’s baby shower I showed up with games and plastic cups. That was me insisting on helping plan the thing. For this one I am going all out – I’ve read up on my baby shower etiquette, I’ve got my menu planned, my games ordered (I know…fancy☺) and my co-host coming up over for pre-party day prep the day before. I am making the cake (shaped like a onesie) and a few extra frills. The thing I think is weird about babies and baby showers – I never really feel connected to the baby until after the baby is born. So you’re supposed to care and be excited and be all connected to the little baby while it is still inside the mom. I just don’t feel that way. Of course I’m excited – I can’t wait to meet him (it’s a boy) and I’m already stressing out for and simultaneously planning the little guy’s future – but it all feels devoid of genuine emotion somehow. I felt the same way with my sister’s baby. If anything – the presence of the baby in the mom’s stomach makes me love the mom more and feel bad and excited for the mother – not the baby so much. I think as far as this one is concerned (Atlas – don’t you love that name?) I will fall for him once I meet him. That was certainly and shockingly true for miss Riley.

~How I Feel About Paris Today~

Now – I don’t mean to bite off more than I can chew or count my ducks before there in a row but…WE’RE GOING TO PARIS IN SEPTEMBER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
‘nuff said…

Sunday, March 04, 2007


There is a poncho in my closet. Actually I have three in there but this entry is about one of them in particular. It is light brown and loosely sewn, so you have to wear a shirt under it. It has two flowers (red) in the middle of the part that hangs over the chest. I saw this poncho recently in a photo and I remembered how much it meant to me. When I was 23 I went to Mexico for the first time. The man I was in love with one had a death in his family and overnight I lost my lover to Mexico. It was devastating. So I booked a plane ticket to Acapulco. I went over Christmas time because I had just gotten back into school and I had almost a month off to be down there. I did an early Christmas with my family and my stepmother had bought me this beautiful poncho. It was perfect for the trip and I was stunned at how perfectly it suited me. The picture that I have of myself wearing the poncho is at a place in Acapulco called la Quebrada. It is a famous part of the city where skilled divers go to jump off the tall cliffs into a narrow abyss that fluctuates with the tide of the ocean. The atmosphere at the place is full of excitement and nervous energy. One wrong step, one second too late and the famous cliff diver will have a broken neck or cracked skull. There is an alter at the top of la Quebrada with the Virgin Mary there. Each diver will jump into the water from a shallow spot, swim across the abyss and then climb up the side of the cliffs. Once they get to the top they will take turns praying in their Speedos to the virgin to keep them safe through the dive. They will then jump and twist and flip and leap on blind faith and practice into the dark and rocky waters below them. It is amazing and stressful, like most things in Mexico.

This is from a journal entry from that trip, brace yourself – it’s almost too much brilliance:

12/18/02 Acapulco - Mexico

This morning started at 7:00am – no wonder though, we were knocked out by 9:30pm last night. Yesterday on the way to the beach, in the pick-up truck with the old man driving, I got my first taste of the smothering Acapulco sun. Paco blew on my head to cool me.

He cools me with his breath, gives me his own air. Sleeping tangled up in one another, he kisses me in front of his mother and she smiles warmly. Luise is silent only staring into the expanse. I made tortillas this morning, with my hands.

Barefooted, outdoor plumbing, dumping buckets of water onto my hot skin, loving the way he loves me, passionate afternoon loving gives way to sun stroked siesta with feverish dreams of the morning’s ventures down from this mountain. Relax, slow down, talking fats, moving slow. At every turn children singing, grown ups praying, teenagers fighting, lovers embracing – he takes my hand everywhere we go and I know – all he’s got is his pride.


So everyday I find myself giving me the same little support talk about not getting trapped into a life I do not want. I guess when it’s all said and done I won’t. I will live the life I am able to create to the fullest.


Every fucking day, every fucking minute, I have doubts. I want a magnificent life and I guess I just imagined doing that alone and I feel so damn guilty about pulling someone else into my web. I guess the thing is, I never wanted this to begin with and now I am completely involved and continuously scrambling to re-arrange and re-adjust all of those dreams. I keep praying to the universe to guide me and give me what I want and need and deserve. To give me what is aligned for me.

How I feel About Paris Today

When I wrote the previous journal entries, my life in Paris was not such a distant memory, as it is becoming these days. I was still freshly back in the states from Paris. Today, I am missing it all the same. It seems that at the time, Paco was the largest possible obstruction between me and Paris, today it appears that my own fears and needs are the largest obstructions to a life in Paris. This is an important piece for me. When I did eventually leave Paco I vowed to always stay true to what I want in life. Hugo is not an obstruction; I can no longer blame it on a relationship. It seems that leading a brilliant life is sometimes about putting yourself out on a limb and taking a jump into the unknown – not unlike the cliff diver’s at La Quebrada. It takes skill and practice to land correctly, but it takes blind faith and a prayer to the virgin to get your feet off the cliff.