Stranger Woman

This month has been ambiguous.

It’s been terrible to me financially and romantically. It’s been amazing to me emotionally and mentally. It’s been record breaking in terms of happiness to finance ratios go. This month, I watched two amazing shows that put me back in the mood to write:

Man Seeking Woman

Stranger Things

I don’t think I’ve EVER seen anything as awesome, in totally different ways, as these two shows. I’m enamored. I’m drooling. I’m fucking waiting and wishing for more and I’m so happy to live in an era where these things exist. This type of abnormality and obsurdity (Man Seeking Woman) and this type of just grade A story-telling and acting (Stranger Things). Those babies are fucking AMAZING in that show. The adults are amazing. Every single aspect of Stranger Things had me screaming.

It had me peaking around the corner (seriously) to check to see if anything without a face was lurking, trying to get my Dude Ranch.

It had me missing The Boy Chin Wonder so badly. Man, I want nothing more for my children than for them to be complete and utter dorks. Nothing more. I imagine The Boy will ease into this if allowed – I need a car bad. I want to pick him up on weekends and support this outcome. The Young Sir will ease into it well enough if I can figure out a way to communicate better with him. And then get him on that damn toilet once and for all. And find a place for us to plant ourselves so he can find friends who are like him and rule the world.

Writing is getting easier and easier. I feared I’d drop back off the face of the planet because of the Ael fiasco – nothing like your sudden motivation for diving back into the writing world using you to take his virginity, hating it, and then stuttering his way to the blocked section of your life. Nothing like wasting a bunch of time and sending him a bunch of stories and trying to find permanence in temporary situations. Nothing like planning for your business and home decor only to never talk to him again.

Nothing like finding a cool place and not being able to go back to it because now you might run into his ass.

But somehow, SOME FUCKING HOW, this was a blessing. It was something I needed. And now I’m binge watching beautiful shows, lonely but so content, broke but somehow rich with emotions and feelings and just wanting to do these things. The Young Sir actually sat with me for a second, sleepily watching these awesome kids doing things kids could only do pre-90’s.

Who knows where we go from here. The Young Sir and The Boy Chin Wonder (sometimes) and Mashu. But I love this little family. I love my little complicated life. I love being stuck in this house, being stuck in my head, being challenged from afar.

This is where I’m supposed to be.

Lives.

I’ve been so many different people.

Just like everything else, that’s been crossing my mind a lot lately. I’ve been so many different types of person, lived so many lives, experienced so many different emotions. I’m 29 but I’d been about twelve different people by the time I turned 21.

A whore.

A saint.

A liar.

A thief.

A lover.

A lesbian.

A bi-sexual.

Adored. Hated. Molested. Raped. Beaten. Cared for. A mother.

I’ve been all types of Shaquana, all versions of Trey. So many best friends and boyfriends and girlfriends and duties and jobs and everything. It’s wonderful when I really just sit and think about it without crying about it. It’s a lot, so much, but it’s perfect.

I sit now and wonder what I am at this second. You never know until it’s over. You never understand your place in the world (at least I don’t) until you fit in a different way. When I look in the mirror now, I’m happier than I ever was – even at a weight bigger than ever, even with no relationship (and a bunch of failures under my belt), I feel immense happiness. I see myself filled with life and love and honesty. And I find myself dangerously attractive, which is a giant change.

But what life is this, now? And where will it lead me?

I wonder and I smile.

Trouble

Sometimes I realize I’m not worth the trouble. A lot of my interactions, especially with men and potential friends, boils down to that. It’s not worth the headache for one reason or another, cool ass personality or not.

I’m getting that.

I hear over and over and over how great of a personality I have. How I’m ‘cool as hell’. How I’m interesting, how someone has had a better conversation with me than they have with anyone else, ever. I hear that so much I should get it tattooed in my ear.

You’re amazing, Trey.

You’re so funny.

You’re quick, you’re smart, you like the coolest stuff.

And then they follow it with all their buts and uh’s and um’s and I blank out a bit.

… … …

 

I’m not so bothered about being trouble anymore. Not in a real sense. It might jerk a tear of two and then I just kinda sit with my back against the wall and laugh. I’m too much or too little or too big or too small or have too many kids or not enough manners or this or that or the third.

I can’t make you cum or I can but that’s all.

I make you feel awkward or I make you feel nervous.

I’m ‘ambiguous’ or ‘intense’.

I get a lot. But I give a lot, and I’m kind of tired of regretting that giving. I’m starting to think I like giving a lot. And being a lot.

I’m starting to think I run people off for a reason.

 

And it’s okay, I think. Being trouble. Having those long gaps of time when I am no one and nothing and if a Trey falls in isolation, does anyone hear it? And if Urijah closes his door again, am I alone in the house?

And if Rajesh loses his phone again, am I not his mother?

And if everyone forgot I was here would anything be any different?

… … …

I’ve been going through water bottles. They’re everywhere. I drink them like I’m a worried alcoholic and they’re whiskey, and they’re scotch, and they’re buzzing in me. I’ve never had so much water in my life. I think about breast cancer and cervical cancer and liver failure and I sit with my back against some wall. There’s a lot of thought involved in this.

But I really like mirrors again, all of a sudden. And cameras. I like smiling really big and picking Urijah up and showing him that he can smile, too. I like listening to lofi hip hop and complaining about my life to myself. I like seeing that door as a wall, these windows as walls, this isolation as an opening.

I am okay with being trouble.

Maybe I am not enough. And it will always be just that way. But it’s really okay.

I’ll live until I don’t.

Morning Pt. 1

Getting ready for a work meeting, trying to find a place in the house where Urijah isn’t screaming. His screams entertain me – he’s seriously entertained by every and any thing and he squeals and jumps and rolls. This kid is a kid if there ever was one.

But I have to work. And work means quiet. So – attic it is.

I’m going to try and make more of an effort to write something every day. To reflect. To read. To talk and mumble and waltz around my house. I’ve got this gorgeous round, rotating couch that Tai and her fiance got me. And I’ve got the beautiful red futon my mom got me. And I’ve got this huge, king-sized Vera Wang bed that Tai’s fiance got me. So I have a bunch of places to reflect, to sit, to think.

Meeting’s starting. Gotta go, bros.

29.

Then again, maybe I won’t. 

… … …

 

I already know I won’t sleep tonight.

Urijah is up and bouncing and fully energized from a deep sleep I woke him up from. Talking to Blu, I struggled a bit. He is in an odd place in his life, and me in mine, where it’s hard to talk about things we care about. It’s hard to form words around what we are and who we are and where we belong in each other’s lives. He struggles to latch on to the humor I used to have. I do the same.

In that struggle, I woke Urijah.

I’ve been sitting her the past…hour? Maybe two? Reading this comic book Bham Ael lent me. That’s the blog nickname I’m giving my current maybe-eventually-who-knows-what. Ael. I like that so that’s it now.

It has all these interesting, vivid, violent, grotesque, over-the-top horror comics from the 50’s. An introduction by R.L Stine. Pretty much everything I need in a book. I have a ten hour loop of a fire burning in a Christmas-decorated fireplace, the sounds lulling me into a brief calm. I’m sitting in my birthday gift from Tai, a beautiful round couch that has wheels and is huge and just swallows me up. All I need is tea but, eh, maybe later.

I already know I won’t sleep tonight.

… … …

There is nothing significant about 29. Nothing to cheer about or get weepy about. I look forward to 30. I like aging, believe it or not. I probably won’t once I hit those long years that bring more ends than promises, but for now I like it. I imagine myself gray and it’s interesting. In a way, I’ve been growing back into the personality of my youth. I’m the life of the party but also the cave hermit. I’m pulling out of my mind a bit and giving Astrid a rest when it comes to bland celebrity stories. She’s been wrapped up in a scenario with Chaunce and Paloma, which I prefer.

I’ve stopped talking to Alyssa. Again. I’m sure this time she’s over it and strolling along to the beat of her life. I have no idea how to keep up and that’s not getting any better, no matter how much I want to. I sit in a spot in the sun and look up and it’s a spot in the moon. No time to call, to text, to talk. I thought it was still January until I remembered my birthday.

Today. 29. I’m rambling a bit.

That’s okay. It used to be okay, so it’s okay.

… … …

There’s a lot I can say about how I want this year to go. And I will. I don’t want to stop saying things just because they might not happen. Don’t want to stop dreaming just because it’s all in my head. Don’t want to NOT date just because dating always fails for me. I want to live as freely, as unbound, as possible. I want to enjoy every inch of my life, happy or sad or failing myself miserably, and I’ll do that by making those promises.

This year, I want:

  • To write a comic.
  • To finish Astrid, The Devil and maybe The Circuit.
  • To get Dude Ranch on the damn toilet.
  • To read and read and read.
  • To do VERY well in my business.
  • To transform my business into a creative agency.
  • To rely solely on myself.
  • To love someone vividly.
  • To be loved vividly.
  • To lose the weight that makes me avoid mirrors.
  • To learn to cook better.
  • To collect: socks, graphic novels, figurines, notebooks, headphones, corsets, lingerie, art
  • To continue to support The Boy Chin Wonder in his art.
  • To create magic with my hair again.
  • To get a sleeve to cover the abomination – either a cluster of deep black flowers or bands all the way up.
  • To breathe.
  • To study.
  • To write in general.
  • To relax.
  • To build my personal brand again (and not delete it).
  • To grow in Birmingham and separate myself from Atlanta.
  • To better understand friendship.
  • To drink good ass coffee.
  • To be fucking amazing. Like I am. Like I have been. Like I will be.

 

These fireplace noises are awesome.

I worry about the thing with Ael. Because I’m very good at getting bored and burying myself alive. The smallest thing makes me panic – I don’t know what I want, and that should be okay, but I feel like it leaves a large target on my chest. I don’t want to want everything but I fucking hate wanting nothing. It’s confusing.

But I like it enough. I felt myself pulling back today but I caught it and decided, yeah, be quiet today but talk tomorrow. Stop thinking about it. Stop avoiding it. Just let it be.

… … …

I’ve checked out in a big way on world events. I don’t register them lately. It’s really like I’ve found that cave and I’m living in it, away from all the people and places and noises. It feels like I’ve been building a world, a tiny world, inside the bigger one. And it feels like this is the direction I always wanted to take.

I’m 29. The Young Sir is 6. The Boy Chin Wonder is 10. And life is going and going and going.

Wake up. Wake up. It’s me, the moon. 

I already know I won’t sleep tonight.

Have a good night, Shaquana.

Revolt

How things stay the same.

… … …

 

And yet. It feels a bit different. I’m sitting here watching Man Seeking Woman, which is probably one of the best shows I’ve ever watched, and I’m pantless. This house is huge – I ventured downstairs for once to see how it feels on the main level. There’s three stories – basement, main level, and attic. I spend much of my time upstairs with music playing, with my head in the clouds, with my work uncharacteristically piling up. So I’ve decided to pull myself out of that and spend more time with Urijah, and then with myself.

It’s cool so far.

Out of all the things I’m doing which are supposed to be different, a couple are old. Writing, for one. And I’m slightly ashamed to admit that a guy helped me spark back into that current. And that I’m quite smitten. And that I haven’t taken to holding on to baggage yet and am jumping in full fledged. And that I said I wouldn’t do this.

But I say a lot of shit.

 

We went on a date to a Wiccan coffee shop and it’s probably the complete opposite of what I expected to find in Alabama. A nice community. The whole vibe of the place was gorgeous. We were free to walk around and talk and he was so well dressed. We drank the best coffee I’ve ever had. He showed me his paintings and drawings and they were amazing. I don’t think I’ve seen such great art in person before. And it was just a really great time. Better than any date I’ve ever been on.

Well, I do have reservations. I feel a bit…uncomfortable. I’ve spent a lot of time feeling like a terrible catch. Like…I don’t know. And though my confidence has gotten beautiful and I’m super happy alone, I am afraid I will crash and burn through this. Another Wolf, another Nate, another Tim, another failure. Another reason for me to hate myself.

Also. He’s white, though it’s not like he’s the first white guy I’ve ever went on a date with.

It’s a difference, though. A difference that is still kind of the same.

… … …

Alabama has been wonderful so far. It’s been quiet and slow. It’s been a practice in solitude and a mastery of understanding and appreciating myself. We’re happy here. No furniture, no problems. A lot of writing but also a lot of slacking off on my work. But things are turning around.

I like it here. I like feeling like this. We’ll see what happens.