wisdom like no other

send the letter because, no matter what, you feel you must apologize for certain hurtful actions, because you feel in your heart that making this statement to your mother is the RIGHT thing to do- it is what your heart desires. then, if the response is disappointing, or even hurtful, you can fall back on the peace of your conviction that YOU did the right thing... that you have not forgotten how to love... that you WILL be you, purely and unabashedly, regardless of how anyone else may choose to treat you. i'm not saying that being firm in your convictions will shield you from all pain, but it will make it possible for you to continue breathing. :) send the letter, milly. it will be all right.
***************************************************************************************
i hardly have any words to describe this...the wisdom she gladly shares with me is so simple, so true. at times i have not trusted myself to know what i know. and with the breath of love, she can blow all my fears away. with those last two sentences, i exhaled and smiled and knew, in my heart of hearts, that when this woman tells me "it will be all right," it WILL be all right. the trust i have with her shocks me, still.

garcia

holding that tiny life in my hands
looking into her eyes
she was searching in mine

love rushes from my heart
like paint onto a blank canvas
why do i care so much
for someone i've known for one day

my heart was hers from the
first moment i touched her
emaciated arm and she let out
her pitiful, heartbreaking
"i've never been outside the hospital
in all 5 months of my life" cry

my life felt like
a movie that day
as i held her in my arms
and watched her mother walk away
saying "i can't stay here another night"
"i won't leave her," i promised

that night this angel's very life
depended on me and me alone
motherhood must be this
times a thousand.
the love i had for her
literally dripped out of my pores.

and today, on my first day
on the pediatric unit
i have found my home.
i was meant to find
my way here.

our lives were meant
to intersect.

icu. the miracle sleeps. 

one forgets to live

my life has become
something i never imagined
it would be.

days pass me by
in blinks
things i've longed to do,
forgotten.

you can erase
something's existence
by forgetting it.

my life
endless papers
relentless tests
sleepless nights

the sun on my face
sand on my toes
wind in my hair
smile on my face

hold on, hold on
the continual whisper
wait a little longer

what is real is
a life calling to me
from somewhere
far away

this is not life.
there is more
than this meager
monotony.

i deserve it.

L

i'm obsessed with the l word
OBSESSED.
i don't think this is healthy

shame on bette
poor tina
jenny should die

dana is so cute
alice is witty and intuitive
someone should start
the planet franchise

shane is OH MY GOD
unbelievable.
this is like beatle-mania
all over again.

shane has the entire
american female population
in the palm of her hand

p.s. dana should've stayed with laura

Anais Nin

And the day came when the risk it took to remain closed in a bud became more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

i am not an alkie

this morning i crawled out of someone else's bed at 7:15.
the radio was on and blaring.
the girl beside me was asleep.
i was in a thong and a silk top.

in the bathroom i fell over
and guessed i was still drunk
so i crawled back into the bedroom
sat on the floor and tried to force
my eyes to focus so i could find
my clothes
my shoes
my keys

my recollection of the evening
plays out like cut up film strips
on the editing room floor
bits and pieces that don't flow
important info. missing

like how i got home
why i was in three different cars
why hill was asking me about cocaine
what did i say
who did i say it to
who closed out my tab
how did we get separated
why was i crying on the porch
how did i get up three flights of stairs
and into someone else's bed

if i had been pulled over at lunch today
i still would've blown a dui.
talking to hill doesn't help at all
just more questions
no answers

to close it out
when i said thanks
for taking care of me last night
this was the reply -
i took care of you last night?!

having someone rely on your strength to hover them above those things which are scary is rewarding. 

Backstreet Is Alive

Council Member Starnes: I would like to personally ensure that you clearly understand what a disservice you have done to Atlantans in your actions to close down Backstreet Atlanta. You closed down a business that paid millions of dollars in taxes to the city of Atlanta yearly. Your hand brought down the axe that closed a business on the list of "Top Ten Things to do in Atlanta." This building, in all its daytime modesty, was a haven for Atlanta's gay population, which I'm sure you're aware is exploding. Not only was it a place of joy and acceptance for the gay community - this club opened its doors to EVERYONE, including the likes of celebrities such as Will Ferrell and Janet Jackson, to name only TWO of the numerous famous patrons.

Backstreet was a FAMILY business. You don't see many of those these days. I am a college student and I live with Andrea Vara. Her father and aunt, Henry and Vicki Vara, owned Backstreet, which they took over from their father when he passed away last year. This family gave not only financial support to the city of Atlanta, but they have all given their personal support to many of Atlanta's charitable endeavors over the past 30 years. I have attended NUMEROUS charity functions with my roommate within the past two years that I've known her and her family. This family prides themselves on being citizens of Atlanta and on their love for their community. They have given of themselves more graciously and more quietly than anyone I have EVER had the pleasure of knowing.

I hope that you have gotten some semblence of satisfaction out of closing an Atlanta landmark based on a few residents' complaints. That club has been in the same place for 30 years. Every single homeowner within its radius purchased their property with the knowledge that a popular club was operating nearby. And don't tell me that the noise level increased, because I know for a FACT that Backstreet was more orderly during the past 3 years than it ever has been. Due to prior complaints, the Varas hired off-duty Atlanta city police officers to keep order at the club. And, as I understand it, those officers were making more money at Backstreet than the city cared to pay them for their service.

So I'd like to thank you, Ms. Starnes. Thank you for putting a 3-generation family business out of operation. Thank you for deciding that a HANDFUL of citizen's complaints were more important than THOUSANDS of Atlantan's testimonies. I understand that you told the License Review Board that Backstreet was a "nightmare" that needed to be closed down. You were wrong. The nightmare is your term as an Atlanta City Council Member. Your interests lie in a personal position. Your job as a council member is to make decisions in the best interest of the entire city of Atlanta. Congratulations, Ms. Starnes. You have failed miserably.

Backstreet Lives On Through Us,
Camille ******

my girls

Making no effort to accommodate others,
I sit on the couch surrounded by mes bébés.
Laugh, pinch, pinch back, "she hit me,"
raised eyebrow, mingling laughter.

And later, macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, and ketchup.
More ketchup.
More ketchup.
More - ENOUGH!

Bathtime madness.
Two sunny wet heads scampering down the stairs.
One sunny wet head giggling and
staring up for my approval.

One refusal to get out of the bathtub.
One refusal to comb hair.
One "I'm hungry."

Oatmeal creme pie baseball.
Pitcher downstairs.
Catchers upstairs reaching through bars.
Six petite hands hanging over the handrail.

One melodic ribbon of laughter...
Without looking up,
I know which silly girl is covering her mouth
in an effort to suppress unprovoked laughter.

Seven oatmeal creme pies soaring
through the air towards their captors.
Four oatmeal creme pies descending
back toward me.

One. Two. Three. Four.
Four cookies on the floor.
Three happy girls retreating to their beds,
satisfied with their catch of the day.

One deliriously happy me
falling into the familiar comfort
of the couch...dozing...to be awakened
by the sound of a diaper swishing with her unsure step
and the touch of the ten tiniest fingers.

One eye open - blonde hair in sight.
Two eyes open - a whisper, "Mio."
The joy emanates, not from my drowsy smile,
but from a place deep within.

One smiling face.
Two outstretched hands employing euphoric fingers
to lift the growing bébé onto the couch with me.

Two spooning bodies.
Two small voices releasing the African lullaby
to float through the room until it fades
into the darkness with our steady breathing.
One dream of the days still to come.