The past couple of nights have been laced with insomnia. I have been tired, but unable to hush my thoughts. This is the part that I hate, the PTSD-esk phase - when the events and words that were said, keep replaying themselves over and over in my mind. Every time I'd close my eyes they were forced back open by my feelings about what was said and what went down, and by his reaction to me in my entirety and in my vulnerability. I think I'm still in shock. Its not like we haven't been here before, but this time was different. This time set the tone for there not to be a next time. I wasn't ready for that. It was unexpected and unwanted.

And you know what else I hate? Not knowing what to do with left over love. This love hasn't reached its expiration date yet, and now I have to place it back on the shelf, although it has already been assigned, and pretend that it doesn't exist, even though it stares back at me longingly. Pretty pathetic huh?

Sometimes I wish that I could stand here and fade away...

I stood in the mirror and beat my face to perfection with the war paint. A battle ensuing within me from the night before. The war paint would keep the tears away. No waterproof eyeliner, no waterproof mascara, no touch-ups necessary. But, on the walk to the bus stop, I found myself waving my white flag, surrendering to my emotions, my tears, my depression, my anxiety. Life was suddenly harder to live. Just kill me now, don't keep letting the war drag out. End it already!

I stood in the mirror and watched the tears pour from my gold dusted cat eyes, chocolate creeks flowing down my cheeks, sparkling lips trembling. My God, you are beautiful. The mascara may not be waterproof, but powder erases all traces of a battle lost.

The sun is shining so brightly today. I should be enjoying the warmth on my skin, the natural dose of Vitamin D to my system. The campus is alive and the people are stirring about. I should be enjoying the atmosphere, being around such positivity and brilliance. However...

Not today. Today, I'd rather be in my cool apartment, in nothing but a big t-shirt, laid across my leather sectional. I'd rather be alone, just me and my yarn and hook. Left to be thoughtless and carefree... at least until 6pm when the happenings of a 1st grade day will begin to ring in my ears.

How's your day?

Courtesy of Tameka... allow me to think aloud once more.

- So, let me get this straight. Cal is actually blocking class registration and withholding financial aid payouts because their students who rely on financial aid payouts do not have the money to pay fees and charges that are normally paid by financial aid payouts? Ok then... watch for us in the trees bitches!

- Am I really this terrified about taking a math class? So terrified that I can't even bring myself to enroll in one? Really? WTF is my problem? Oh yeah... I'M TERRIFIED OF FAILING, and looking stupid, and representing women in math badly, and remembering that I haven't set foot in a math class since high school, and hearing all of the 'I told ya soes' about taking that math class instead of this one at this school instead of that one. Again, WTF is my problem?

- Is it really possible to find a decent paying job that will allow me to pay all of my back rent so that the University will actually release me from my indentured servitude? Is it really possible to give my income from said fantastical job to said mountain of debt AND be able to afford to relocate? Hmmmm...

- I wonder if I hurt the creditor's feelings when I hung up the phone in his face the other day? Well... I did tell him to have a nice day before introducing him to my friend 'click'.

- How could a little girl manage to have a hole in at least one knee of every fucking pair of jeans she owns??? That would be because she's "my" little girl! Back to school shopping is going to be so much fun.

- If I didn't think I was fat before, the fact that my thighs created so much friction while on vacation that I contemplated walking wide-legged like I had a stick up my ass, proved to me that I'm now like 60% fat and only 40% Phat.

- Speaking of being pretty & plump... I need some new clothes!! How come there isn't anyone to take me 'back to school' shopping? Or 'job hunting' shopping? Oooh, and how about 'MILF' shopping here?

What's on your mind today?

Although I remain Twitter resistant, at any given time, I have an abundance of tweet-worthy thoughts dancing around my head in intervals. So, today I'm borrowing T. Allen-Mercado's Not Quite Twitter creation to cyber-think aloud. Feel free to jump on board, T has given us her permission.

- I had my first day of Precalculus today and I sat there staring at the equations as if they were a foreign language. To folks in the humanities and the social sciences, THEY ARE! I haven't taken a math class in 7 years, and while I actually enjoyed Geometry and Algebra and Math Analysis, but a lot has happened since those days, its taking me a minute to get back into arithmatic mode.

- Miss J's dad, other half, sperm donor started inappropriately texting me again. The usual "lets be together/we need to be together/come be with me." I didn't respond, nor did I bother to answer his phone calls this weekend. And then today, he sends me a picture of his brand new baby boy. I guess that would explain why he offered to give me full custody of his daughter in exchange for not having to pay child support. Sooooo, he wants to save his money and put it toward his newest investment?

- Wow, Chris Brown was offered and accepted a plea deal? And was given 5 years probation and no jail time for what he did to Rihanna? Really?

- I'm indecisive about growing my hair out. One minute I wanna keep it short, the next minute I am loving my curls... I'm getting my 4th hair cut on Wednesday. I think I'm gonna go short and sassy for the summer and then break out my curling gel and afro pick come fall.

That's all for now. What's on your mind?

I don't wanna take them. AT ALL! Isn't there a way around this?

I met with my doctor today and she says that when the meds hit a plateau that means the dosage needs to be increased.

Question(s):

- Why did the meds hit a plateau after just 1 month?
- Does that really mean that the dosage needs to be increased or that this med just doesn't work for me?
- How many other meds do I need to go through and how many more dosage increases on how many more meds do I need to go through?
- So, my only two options are to take the meds and/or to make time to see a therapist?
- Why did you look at me sideways when I declined your prescription offer for the morning after pill?

Yes, that last question might seem a little random, but she gives me these all over mini life evaluations when I go in there. She keeps track of what I'm doing, how long I've been doing it, and who I've been doing it with, and where I'm taking it next. I even had to explain my damn thesis at this visit!! I guess it means she cares, but sometimes it gets on my nerves because she's constantly overbooked, and when I really have a list of things I need to discuss with her she doesn't have time to take care of me, but when I don't feel like talking or can't remember all the shit that has been ailing me, then she wants to lay in on me and get the low down on what's been going on.

Now, my new task is to keep a journal since I'm having trouble with my memory, so that she can decipher what's a side effect of the medication and what's "me". My lack of affect, paired with my memory issues, makes journal writing a good idea. Then, I'm suppose to get reacquainted with a therapist in the office that I tried to build a relationship with before. I'm tired of sitting around retelling my story to those who get paid to hear it. I don't wanna talk. I just want some solutions. And besides, I don't particularly wanna talk to him. I wanna talk to a woman. In a setting that I am comfortable in. Not one where I have sit in a tiny office and stick my daughter in a chair outside the door while I talk about her dad or all my other shit. Sigh...

This is the last week of Kindergarten for Miss J. Its been a wonderful experience thus far. She went in, an already bright child, and she will emerge that much more ready for the world. I can't believe that she will be a 1st grader come Fall. I sat and stared at her today. Just taking in her spirit as she sat on the couch lost in one of her favorite tv shows, snacking on Oreos. She's a complete little person. I think I'm having a hard time internally, accepting the fact that she isn't a baby anymore. She's not a toddler, not even a "Kindergartener" anymore. But a complete little person; with her own mind and desires.

In the blink of an eye. I have a little lady on my hands.

I hope that everyone has a happy and very blessed Easter Sunday. Seems like each year our holidays stray further and further from family tradition, but all is well, once the family matriarch dies, often so does family tradition. Instead of spending my morning in a Sunday service I'll be spending it cuddled up in bed. And instead of my grandmother slaving over the stove trying to cook a meal while hoping that all of her ungrateful children will join together as one big happy loving family, I'll in turn, do the slaving just for her and never think twice about those who just don't matter as much anymore.

I'll ask the sun to shine away from you today so you can cry... and I'll ask the clouds to bring the rain for you today so you can cry... if that's what you want alright.

I am supposed to be actively engaged in completing a 5 page critical review, code for midterm, which was officially due an hour and 49 minutes ago. The very fact that I am here, and not over at MS Word, is proof that I am highly unfocused at the moment. My mind seems to be everywhere but where its supposed to be. Too easily fixed on environmental sights and sounds, and internal ramblings. A full sized bed calling my body to retired and make an attempt to restart the day again.

I sit here surrounded by a thick reader, notebook, loose leaflets that possess the beginnings of an outline, The Craft of Writing for proper MLA format, maintenance crew manicuring hedges outside my window, duck feet...

These would be the duck feet, just in case you were wondering. Known in the land of China as Squeaky Shoes. Although I can't deny the level of cuteness these little things occupy, I wish I could eliminate the level of annoyance generated by the everlasting squeak squeak squeak! of little feet prancing back and forth in front of my door. Its like being in a nursery of distressed ducklings. Definitely not that feeling of feng shui that nature usually provides. I wonder how long it would take sister in-law V to make an attempt on my life if I ordered some of these for Thing 1 and Thing 2





And then of course there is the constant frustration of trying to unlock the mystery that is Joe the Plummer. I mean, is he related to Joe Six Pack? And what exactly is so "six pack" about Joe? Does he have a drinking addiction? A fitness addiction? This just might remain a mystery.



My mind's ramblings are endless. I am going to use this time between loosing all since of direction and Miss J coming home from the after-school program, to recenter myself. All hope is not lost for getting this assignment completed and emailed in today. I just need to regroup. Take a breather. Clear my mind and as Tim Gunn says, "make it work".

Ever since my Professor basically told me that my thesis topic ideas pretty much would suck as research projects, I have been a little... um... well, feeling a lot insecure about writing in general. I am suppose to choose something that not only interests me, but that interests me so much that I would want to devote the next 3 months to writing, rewriting and then rewriting it some more. Until this life changing work emerged. As a parent who is a full time student, I have been "interested" in how this process works. I have been interested in the politics of it all, because believe me, there are politics to being a certain kind of non-traditional student on a college campus. So, I am interested in the "experience", which yes, is not asking any particular questions, which yes, is therefore not presenting an opportunity to research anything, but that doesn't mean that there are no questions. I just haven't focused on them yet. Based on "experience" I know that it would be interesting to come into this project from a cultural studies perspective by looking at how the "college mother" is represented in our society. Why wouldn't this alone present some kind of opportunity for research??

I have other interests too, but right now, I just don't think my mind is into producing any kind of ground breaking work. What is it that truly interests me? What am I passionate about? What would I want to spend a bunch of weeks and devote a bunch of countless hours of research and editing to? Well, since "motherhood in academia" is not cutting it as it stands in my head right now and my Professor didn't seem to have any workable ideas to throw my way before stating in front of the entire class that "its just not a good research idea", I HAVE NO FRICKIN' IDEA! It pains me to say this, but the majority of the time I really HATE writing, which was why I came here in the first place, to try to condition myself to love it again. I mean, what's not to love about writing as a form of expression and as a way of adding to knowledge?? I definitely have a lot of work to do since I think we will be heading off to do library research in a couple of weeks. This is stressing me the hell out!!

It looks like this post has turned out to be not so random after all. I really did not intend to spend two whole paragraphs in this post, or even one about my lack of a thesis... that was suppose to be a whole other post, where I would tell you all how my Professor took my ideas and just shredded them right before my eyes and the eyes of eager on looker who know EXACTLY what the fuck they will be "researching". She destroyed not just the "motherhood in academia" idea, but also an idea that I had around "black female sexuality". Apparently, this has "already been done." Well, DUHH!!. And I can't come in on a conversation that is already in progress about black female sexuality and its representation?? Jesus Christ lady! I feel like John Nash struggling to come up with that "one original idea". He finally did, but damn, he ended up in a mental institution for a while getting electroshock treatments. Is the quest for an "original idea" gonna lead me to a white padded room too?

To see if I start running around the classroom, tearing at my hair, yelling, "THAT IS A GOOD IDEA FOR MY THESIS YOU BITCH!!", stay tuned...