SUADADE

Time to let this blog rest in peace. For petty thoughts and photos: twitter and pinterest, with my first name as their handles, are at your service. Be good and do good. 

I will never be everyone’s cup of tea, but rather, an acquired taste that will one day be your favorite drink. But I will not simmer down for you, I apologize in advance. I ask that you take me as I am, no sugar or honey. Take me in and let me seep into your being and soothe your soul. Let me help you unwind after a long day. There will be days when you’ll long for the intensity of liquor, the quickness of coffee, and maybe even the innocence of juice. But I promise that between you and me, I am more than just the remnants of herbs and a broken down concoction of a once robust past. So have a drink. It’s on me. 

Ciao. It’s currently four in the morning here in Florence, Italy. All is still, except for my mind and my cannoli scented fingers. I’m sitting on an ivory window pane, with the Duomo peaking just above the multicolored homes. If this isn’t surreal enough for a girl from Bed-Stuy, give me a couple more weeks. Anyway, this post has no intention of being philosophical, radical, or inspirational, but rather, raw. I can’t think of the last time I’ve been so… in the moment. I’m speaking four languages throughout the duration of the day, but I haven’t found the right word(s) to say when someone asks me “How are you?” or “Come vanno le cose?” If you’ve ever read or seen Eat, Pray, Love, I am Phy(liz)ia. But instead of an Indonesian medicine man giving me a prophecy, this handsome Italian man told me to take my eyes off of the book I was reading, free the anxiety fuori di testa (out of my mind), and essere alla mano (to be easy going). So, without further ado, go marvel at something simple and try something new. 

Just contributing more fuel to the fire: Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording —all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

Filling up pages of this moleskine journal with daily doses of rhymes, style, and lyfe. I wish I could summarize my summer escapades and share it with the world. But I think the fact that they lie hidden between lines, whether they be on paper, on one’s face, or on these Los Angeles streets, preserves their integrity. Because we all know that technology taints adventure. Lord have mercy, this journal is going to entertain me down the road. And mad love to Soulection for inducing word vomit and inspiring me to write again.

Happy birthday to me, I said quietly as I blew out a used candle on a macaron. I’m finally 18, but I’ve been feelin like a middle aged woman for the past few years. The whole neighborhood is silent. The only sounds filling this void of loneliness in my chest are social media notifications. Life is fantastic, beautiful, and tragic. And here’s to another year of it.

Life as of late: wake up early, open up the windows, yoga while new light and a light breeze shines through the room, crepes with nutella and strawberries, record a couple songs, read out in the backyard with the dogs, and just flow with the day’s blessings. The day rotates between Prison Break and Whose Line Is It Anyway marathons, neighborhood runs, Farmer’s Market visits, softball practice, crate digging, cleaning, cooking, and breathing. No phone, no drama, just sole and soul time. Trying not to speak unless necessary and trying to find myself in the midst of this chaotic bubble I’ve been trapped in for the past few months. This post is rather meaningless to anyone reading it. Just felt like giving the old blog a breath of fresh air. It’s been a while since I’ve written about how blessed I am to still be alive. 

I already said too much. I already shared too much, and I want all my secrets back. I hate getting close to people these days, I always regret sharing too much, caring too much, doing too much, feeling too much.