Me, Undone

I could use a drink right now. If I smoked, I would most certainly be high. I just need some time…to ease my mind… a minute, a second to catch my breath, or maybe my life. I am overwhelmed. So many decisions with little information, exams, my noisy neighbors and the economy…oh, don’t get me started on the economy and the bailout plan. I went to grocery store yesterday and came out with four plastic bags of food for eighty dollars. As a nation, we’ve collectively bent over and now we are being..uh emm..u know... I want to be present but it is so difficult. Where is the fast forward button? What do I do with the mundane tasks and the stress resting in the cracks of my existence? As I move more fully into life, I edge nearer to death. Or is it the other way around? There is one thing that has made me hopeful. That is Barack and Michelle. Michelle, a black woman, un-bossed, unafraid, intelligent and poised. And Barack, a black man who loves his wife as his equal—highly evolved , emotionall...

First, I must apologize for my absence. I’ve been wrapped in school, internships, the job search and most important all, Maui. I’ve missed you, my blog family, so desperately. If I didn’t write today I fear that I wouldn’t have written for another hundred days. I crossed off one of the "100 things to do before I die" in Maui. I swam naked in the ocean. It was so exhilarating—so freeing—better than any Disney theme ride or bungee jump—just me, my body and the water. I was struck by the simplicity of it all. I am to return to the earth this way, naked and unencumbered. My ex-husband used to tell me that I wanted too much. I wanted the light and the dark, the hard and the soft, the ups and the downs. It’s funny. How. Life changes. So suddenly. Now, I have sober dreams and un-foiled visions. I’ve tucked in my pixie dreams. These days, I require little. When everything is taken from you, you know that you don’t need much to survive. I’ve come to think of our incessant desire for c...

In exactly seven days, I will step into my fourth body. Most people are unaware that as humans the bone in our skeletons completely renews itself every seven years. So while you sit at work, drive your kids to school, and make love, your bones are constantly shifting and re-growing—discarding things unwanted and unused—the ultimate refinement. Every seven years, we become our most magnificent selves—the updated and amended versions. In exactly seven days, I will be 28 years old. I have to admit that I am not exactly where I once thought I would be at this time. In college, I had imagined that I would have a stable career, moving up the ranks as a powerful attorney. I imagined that I would be starting a family with a man that I loved—living behind a white picket fence, the embodiment of the American dream. I imagined that I’d have the wind at my back—all my loved ones here to enjoy the fruits of my success. However, at the threshold of my fourth body, I am met by the realities of my lif...

My significant other stumbled across my last blog regarding her request. Let’s just say that she, yes she, wasn’t so thrilled. The birthday gift ended before it even began. I have to admit that I’m a bit relieved. I know that the frequency of sexual intimacy is not a measure of our commitment. Pause. Now I can savor the decadence of a spontaneous needy fix. Hooray for small miracles. After some thought, I think way too much, I believe that her request was an attempt to keep me near. She thinks that she is losing me. With great sadness, I ended my internship last Friday. I’ve had an amazing summer. I will miss the incredibly talented lawyers in the public interest field. They are rebel rousers, social movers and change makers—fighters of unpopular causes. Charles Houston was right; lawyers are either social parasites or social engineers. I am no parasite. I will miss my clients, women at point zero, struggling to regain control of their lives. I have faith in their ability to change an...

My significant other has a very specific birthday request—sex everyday for a month. I am willing to give it a whirl but I am sure that there will be a sobering lesson at the end of this journey for the both of us. Sex is like chocolate cake. Chocolate cake once or twice and week is oral pleasure—chocolate cake everyday for a month, not so much. I am afraid that I will miss out on the intricacies of the connection by having sex just to have sex. I don’t want to lose the tiny seconds of silence that come immediately after the sweet convulsion. I want the anticipation, the shivers…traversing the unknown. I want some kind of sacredness—sex should not be like watching television, eating or dressing everyday. It is not a routine test. I am comfortable with my sexuality. It is a garment I wear with ease. However, I don’t believe that you need to have sex or think about sex to be sexy. Sexy is not something that you do, it is who you are. There are tons of people who have sex and are not sexy....

I’ll sell my right breast (I’m a bit partial to the left one) before I try to hook up another friend. I dabbled in the stars and attempted to play match-maker this week. It was an absolute train-wreck. Before I give you the details, let me back up and tell you how this all came about. Tim (for the purposes of this blog) is a young, cute, gregarious lawyer with deep dimples and piercing blue eyes. Everyday he comes into my office to talk about family, girls, and all things unrelated to the practice of law. When I learned that he was single, I thought of a friend who I believed could provide some mental and physical stimulation. Knowing how hard it is to meet decent people these days, it seemed purely logical to me that these two should meet. Besides, I love love and the prospect of vicarious new love was too sweet to resist. We arranged to meet for drinks after work this Wednesday. My good friend, Jenna--sharp, witty and passionate--was stunning as usual. We sat down, ordered drinks and...

From scanning my past few postings, I realize that you may think that I am deeply depressed and dark—this, I am not. It just so happens that I have used this space to free the unmentionables, and you, my lovely readers, have been present to witness such occurrences. If you could see beyond these key strokes you would know that I am actually quite light, flirty and fun. I live hard. I laugh hard. I love harder. So today, I’ve made a list of twelve little things that I love. For they are the little things that move me so. 1. the smell of skin 2. lying naked underneath my warm, soft, faux fur blanket 3. sipping sweet southern brewed iced tea 4. touching the warm spaces of my lover’s body 5. listening to rain fall to the pavement in the midnight hour 6. two glasses of cranberry juice and vodka before a night of dancing and pure escapism 7. road trips with my favorite people and music 8. flirty exchanges coated with lust and the potential for danger 9. candles and Will Downing aft...