Academia

by Sia





You can be my alphabet and I will be your calculator
And together we'll work out on the escalator
I will time you as you run up the down
And you'll measure my footsteps as I blow through this town
The mean of our heights is divided by the nights
Which is times'd by the daggers and the root of all our fights,
The pass of your poem is to swathe me in your knowing
And the beauty of the word is that you don't have to show it

Oh academia you can't pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love

I am a dash and you are a dot
When will you see that I am all that you've got
I'm a binary code that you cracked long ago
But to you I'm just a novel that you wish you'd never wrote
I'm greater than x and lesser than y, so why is it
That I still can't catch your eye?
You're a cryptic crossword, a song I've never heard
While I sit here drawing circles I'm afraid of being hurt

Oh academia you can't pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love

You're a difficult equation with a knack for heart evasion
Will you listen to my proof or will you add another page on
It appears to me the graph has come and stolen all the laughs
It appears to me the pen has over analysed again
And if I am a number I'm infinity plus one
And if you are five words you are afraid to be the one
And if you are a number you're infinity plus one
And if I am four words then I am needing all your love

Oh academia you can't pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love
Academia

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2012 Recap

iLaughed. iTravelled. iChanted. iLost. iRead. iDrank. iCackled. iKissed. iSang. iRose. iLived. iDanced. iGiggled. iDrank. iBlushed. iCried. iWrote. iSnapped. iDrank. iLearned. iLoved. iRan. iFell. iHealed. iWhistled. iConquered. iRepped. iTerp. iGrew. iDrank. iSkipped. iPurred. iWas.

aGoalDigger - 2012

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Creep

I am not perfect, nor do I profess to have never given my parents any problems in my youth. In fact, I went out of my way, like most kids to master my sneaking skills. I waited until they fell asleep before I'd tiptoe into the living room and stretch the super long phone cord ever so gently along the baseboard of the walls. Then, I placed it into the crease of my bedroom door, where I'd slide the cord underneath, and commence to talking, or rather whispering. Sometimes it would be a boy, but at that age, most often it was my best friend. We would just chit chat while watching the Home Shopping Network and fantasizing about what we'd like to order. Oddly, we did that a lot.

As I got older, 9 times out of 10, it was, most assuredly, a boy I was sneaking and speaking with on the phone. The late night calls naturally progressed to secret meetings in the park, to after school outings, to full out playing hooky together. I know.  I know. I keep my eyes and ears open.  The luxury is having an alarm system and indicators on every door, so if any one of those doors opens...momma knows!  

I wish I had a picture to give you a visual of the layout of the place where I grew up, because you might find it extremely hard to believe the shenanigans I pulled. We basically lived in a condo style apartment, so the living spaces weren't grandiose. We had a living room dining room combination, a small kitchen, and a hallway that held one bathroom, a "laundry room" and two bedrooms. Somehow, I managed to sneak out of my parents' house while they slept. I rarely went someplace, but rather opted to sit out front kissing my boyfriend. OK, there WASSS this one incident, in which I won't delve too much, where my best friend Sabs and I snuck out and came back so late that we actually passed my dad in a car when he was leaving home and on his way to work! That was the closest call...ever! Nevertheless, we crept back into the house, climbed the 14 steps in the entrance of our condo, slid down the hall and past my parents'ADJACENT bedroom, into mine. 

So one night, after a nice dinner out with my girls, we were driving down some unknown street. Though born and raised in DC, my navigation skills in the city perplexes and annoys everyone, so sorry I can't remember the name, ok?! Sabs is driving, I'm riding shotgun and Jam is in the back. I peep someone on the left hand side coming out of a window, that's only a few feet from the ground. 

I screamed, "Look at that girl. She's sneaking out of the house!" My girls whoop it up laughing and Jam says, "Turn around, go back. GO BACK!" Sabs makes the world's slowest and most cautious u-turn and we pray that she's still in the DC metropolitan area, LOL. She was! We turn right on her street and pull up beside her just as she's putting on the pink hoodie she was holding in her hand, mid-jump. I rolled my window down and the exchange went something like this:

Me - Are you over 18?
Her - (looking flustered) No.
Me - (neck rolling and lips pouted) Um, hm. We saw you sneaking out of your parents' house and we're gonna tell 'em.
Her - (looking flustered still and softly mumbling) OK, go ahead.

In the background, like out of a movie, was a random older lady, probably in her 70's, holding a brown paper grocery bag, and looking on. The little truant was standing at the driver door of an SUV, which we later surmised that she was about to steal! As we're pulling off, it appears as though the senior is saying something to her, so I start yelling, "That's right. Tell her momma. Get your behind in that house, ain't nuttin out here in these streets for you girl!" LOL, was quite the scene. Of course, we don't know what happened, but I'd like to think that she'll think lonnnng and hard again, before she rolls out in the middle of the damn night, to go God knows where, with God knows whom. 

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Womb Hole

Just a few moments ago, I let myself feel, without judgment.  I let it go and smiled so deeply.  I don't even think its intensity manifested into an actual, physical smile.  It was buried within my soul.

My children are 17 and almost 14 years old.  Every year, at least once, I get these little "kicks" in my stomach.  If you've ever been pregnant, then only you can really REALLY relate, because nothing feels like a baby's kick...but a baby's kick.  They're rarely painful.  They're the sweetest surprises and reminders.

Tonight, I felt a "kick."  Normally, I dismiss it like it's not what I think, or rather what feel it is, but I couldn't this time.  It just didn't seem fair or authentic.  I always hide - run away from it.  This time, I wouldn't.  These moments are so rare and special to me.  I'm going to partially credit my early age hysterectomy to this treasure.  Whatever it may be, I love it so much and I can't wait for the next one. I can hardly wait for the next one.

This time, tonight, I exhaled during and after the kicks and let my wandering hand be.  It waywardly circled my tummy.  My eyes closed.  I let them stay that way, until it felt natural to open.  My tummy felt warm.  My hands, there are two of them now, stroked my semi-flat belly. And for those few precious minutes, memory lane was all mine.  The only passengers were me and my baby. The times I sang and read and cried and laughed and listened and prayed and wished and hoped to my baby in my belly came back to me.  They're alive.  Resurrected. Hallelujah. Amen.      

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Call Kaiser

Last night, I popped over to my best friend's house, where our other bestie was, as well. Most of their kids were there.  Missing was my youngest nephew, who's 3.  Not sure where  he was though. Curious as I'm typing. Anyway, as kids do, they were butting into adult conversations.  The sending of the kids upstairs ensued.  If only it were that simple.

They left.  Seconds later, Ladybug, the elder of the cousins, was "crying," because her "leg was hurting."  No need to explain the quotations.  She's 8. I'll say that.  Annnnd, with THAT said you should already know the crying surely exceeded the supposed injury.  Her mom, eyes rolling, head shaking, snail's pace moving, went to her rescue. She was around the corner for a few minutes and the crying, still persistent, wasn't sufficiently subsiding. Shit was actually getting *louder.  I popped up, slightly entertained.  Rounding the corner and entering the foyer, I see my niece damn near stretched out across the floor and my bestie kneeling down "consoling her."

I asked Ladybug if she was okay and if she thought we needed to call Kaiser. Honayyyy, when I tell you she straightened up, she straightened the fuck up!!!!  Her beautiful bright eyes couldn't have **shone more.  She shook her head "no."  I left the room and guess what.  Her crying revved.  Having way more experience in parenting (because I got knocked up in college) and being increasingly entertained, I came back in the room, but not empty handed.  Ohhhhh no.  I'm a jokester - always have been.  Always will be.  I had their cordless, house phone in hand in plain sight.  Here's how that convo went:

Me:  Should we call Kaiser?

Ladybug:  (frightened) No, mommy.  No, aunt Tiffanie.  We don't need to call Kaiser.

Me:  Are you sure?  You look like you're in a lot of pain, Sweetie.  I'm calling.  (the neon color of the phone pad light up)

Ladybug:  NO! NO! I'm okay.  We don't need to call Kaiser!!!!!!!

Me:  Hmmmm, I'm calling.

My bestie:  Aunt Tiffanie, I don't think we need to call.  She said she's okay.

Ladybug: I don't need Kaiser, Aunt Tiffanie.

Me:  You're sure?!  I'm calling.  (faint beeps of the cordless and I fake call)

Ladybug:  I'm better!  I'm better!

I slowly walked away and back into the room where our other bestie was ON THE FLOOR DYING LAUGHING.  She was like "You ain't right.  You AIN'T right."

Shoot, in my opinion.  I was justified and pretty sure that Ladybug would think twice about faking an illness or injury...at least with me in sight.

            





*more annoying
**after visiting this page, I decided on "shone."

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