ChillSpot Online: Our Art is Life

Ugh. Double ear infection … WTF? More specifically - swimmer’s ear - an affliction which has affected me before, caused by getting water in the ear and not draining. Painful, and stupid. Anyway, got a job interview today at some random place, so we’ll see if it’s worth it. Literally. Ikea watch: I still have to put that damn cabinet together. I know …

The quiet time… It’s kind of hard, when it’s so quiet you can hear your heart beating in your ears. So quiet that the silence sounds like wind blowing through a conch shell left on a beach. Quiet can make you crazy. It can make you see things that aren’t there. Do things you would never do, but usually not for your betterment. I’ve experienced such quiet in the past few months. It’s a quiet that must be how lonely people feel, how suicidal people feel. A quiet that seems like it will never end. Like a quiet created specifically for your particular brand of pain. That quiet. Quiet like a sensory deprivation chamber. Floating underwater, ears plugged, in the dark … no sounds, the water lukewarm, not hot or cold, just floating for hours .. quiet.

***
For the first time since I’ve been laid off, not having a job has begun to suck, and not because of the money, but because of the quiet. The silence. The having to keep yourself busy or risk eating yourself into a blubbery mess, or driving in the dark with no headlights on, or dropping acid and drinking yourself unconscious … not that I’d do any of those things. Not easy to have to lead yourself …

Charity alert!!! The following is an unpaid advertisement for Chillspot charities…

Hey guys … you like chillspotonline? You like having hard-hitting, in depth, funny things to read on a maybe every-couple-days basis? Well, here at the site, we’re experiencing financial hardships in this changing economic climate just like everyone else. We rely on sponsors like you to keep us going. So, bare with us as we discuss the first annual Chillspot Charity Fund Drive. We need your help. If we don’t receive funding, we’re gonna have to close the site down at month’s end, and you’d never find those interesting stories that keep you coming back. So please, help us. With every pledge we guarantee that you’ll continue to get stories you may not understand but that keep you awake at your desk. And as a special gift for a pledge, we’ll send you a personalized gift - your very own used T-shirt worn by yours truly! You can use it as a dust cloth, or use it to fill your favorite landfill! It’s all yours! Thank you for your time, and remember, we need your help!

***
It’s a beautiful day out today. I think I’ll stay in and pout about life’s crueltly… heh

Sunday at the park a butterfly chased me. Harassed is more like it. Never seen anything like it. I joked that it must have been an old relative passed on or something. It followed me, fluttering wildly around my head for like 25 feet. It was most unusual. But cool too. Made me think about those who are no longer here, and hope for the day we may meet again.

The world is a silly place. Serena Williams melting down to lose a match, Kanye West melting down to praise Beyonce while humiliating Taylor Swift, and a million little moments that lessen the love, the light in people’s lives. Maybe it’s not all that serious, but it sure seems so. I’m kinda with Bob Marley in lighting up the darkness. Crap is shady enough without help.

Also, no one accepts anyone… Likely because no one accepts themselves. Society doesn’t promote it. Everyone is urged to be more, bigger, smaller, more financially capable, more pretty - anything but who they are - or more to the point, a better version of who they are. What’s wrong with being you? Sunshiny theory I know, but really, it’s just that simple.

I think the Relife Project is coming to its end. The purpose of it was for me to chronicle my life as it has unfolded over the past few months. I feel I have done that and will continue to in other avenues. I will finish out the month here and end happily. But until then… Party on!

Been thinking about the differences between white and black women’s means of choosing a mate. My apologies to all who get offended by stereotypes and sweeping generalizations. White women tend to pick a mate who is “beneath” them, to protect their low self-esteems. The man perfect for a white woman is one who can’t believe his luck that such a wonderful woman chose him. He’ll never stray (yeah) because he’s waaayyy out of his league.

Black women tend to pick mates above them - to protect their low self-esteem. Black women like a brother with lots of whatever, so she can hide within his shadow while reaping the benefits of his lot in life. Notice the common denominator? Low self-esteem. Of course there are no absolutes and many strokes of gray in there, but it seems to play out that way a lot.

***
Happiness takes work; can’t slack off and expect it to find you.

Another quiet day, sort of. I was like the Marines: I handled all my biz before noon, then took the rest of the day off. Bill collector 1 accepted my sob story about being laid off and cut me some slack, bill collector 2 reduced my fees for being late, because it was the bank’s fault, not mine, I wrote my first piece as Cincinnati Socialite Examiner on Examiner.com. A blah piece about things to do after Labor Day. Found out my son lost his second tooth in a month … falling out his mouth now that kindergarten is on him. How life flies by…

***
I want to send a special thank you out to my family and friends, anyone who has helped me reach this point in my life. I was thinking about Eric Turner, the former Cleveland Browns safety who died in 2000 of intestinal cancer at 31. I was thinking how bad it had to suck to die at 31. I’m 32, so dying at 31 isn’t an option for me, and I’m grateful for that. This time in my life has been unlike any other, in that there is no template, no job to guide me, no sage advice that will walk me through this time. I like working in space, it’s a feeling that, if you can handle it, is one of the greatest you’ll experience. Soon, when I have to land and build my new home, I’ll call on those who have helped in the past, and hopefully, together we can stride into the future successfully. So, thank you again.

Needed some time off from the project. Lost a little of the happiness the past few days. Being happy takes work; I’ve been slacking… Don’t worry folks … it shall return.

Sadness was the theme for today. I read Drown by Junot Diaz, about the poverty and pain immigrants from hispanic nations felt throughout their daily lives. It was a quick read, but it left me with a pain inside - it very much felt like how I felt growing up in my neighborhood.

I went by the funeral home to sign the guest book for my friend’s mother. The funeral home was this gaping, elegant place, with multiple floors and a huge chapel off of one side. The doors were locked when I arrived, but a man doing landscaping called inside for me, and a well-dressed man let me in. He said there was no guest book, but proceeded to create one for me. I ran to the restroom while he did that, and when I returned an older man was peering over the second floor banister. I signed the book, and said good night. The old man told me to “be good.” It was a little creepy, like a warning that he didn’t want to see me back anytime soon in another capacity. I smiled and left.

I went by the park and finished the book, had dinner and came home…

***

Let it go

The pain I felt ripped through my insides,
burning all my organs, contorting my spirit
into something charred and vague - like an arson victim.
All that was left was the numbing cold of things being over.
Things at their end.
There was no one who could endure that for me,
it was my uniquely-given burden.
My father has his pain,
my aunts and cousins have theirs, and I have mine.
I would take all their pain to release myself of my own.
I cried so hard I had back spasms,
my lungs ached, my throat nearly closed
from the effort of swallowing and heaving.
I never imagined it would be like this …
so overwhelming that I couldn’t see through to me,
to who I am, all I could conceptualize
was the searing agony of loss,
a loss so severe that there would be no overcoming it.
I will forever live with this loss,
and nothing anyone can do to heal me of it.
I hope to one day be able to release this feeling,
this stinging, scorching sensation, to let it all go.
Please make that so …

Been watching sappy baseball movies the last two days, and it finally caught up with me. Two days ago, it was Field of Dreams, and today, it was A League of Their Own. Personally, I like the latter better, the characters make the difference, and the fact that the movie was more about baseball itself than what it mean to Kevin Costner’s Ray Consella character. Actually felt it in my throat … ugh. Watched NCIS all day and did not much else … just thought about things … it was a successful day. My boy’s first day of kindergarten … the beginning of the end of his childhood. Not so sad as it sounds…