The understanding love
They ask me what I see,
What I see when I'm dreaming,
What I see when I'm listening,
What I see when I'm writing,
But I don't see; I understand,
I understand how minds work,
I understand how hearts work,
I understand how my world works,
But I don't understand them.
Why can't people accept it?
Why do they need to know why?
Why do they want to know?
But they don't want to know why; they want to know what.
If I see their futures,
If I see the dead,
If I see words before me,
But I don't see; I understand.
So when they ask, what do I see in you?
I don't reply. I smile,
Because when I dream,
And I listen,
And I write,
You know what I see?
What I've always seen:
You.
-George Arkley
Friday, July 26, 2013
The understandi...
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Sunday, July 21, 2013
When You Really Listen to God
I'm a firm believer in having conversations with God. Each day I try to spend some time talking with him and making sure that I check in. It's kind of my reassurance moment. I don't say anything special, I just talk as if I'm talking to a friend or family member. Of course he already knows what's on my mind and in my heart, I just like to make sure I have a daily conversation with him.
My conversations are typically about everyday life. Maybe some problems that I am going through or even something that was just a random thought. No matter how big or small I always take it to Him. I never feel ashamed to say what I'm thinking. Never do I feel like I asked a stupid question. The time nor the pace matters when I have these conversations. In the morning, on the subway, or even in an elevator. Al I need is a few shorts minutes and I'm good to go.
Over the past year I have been praying consistently for one specific thing. That is that God directs me to be a woman that he is proud of and give me a man who is after his heart. During the course of the year I have come across several men that God has directly told me to stay away from. However, since I'm hardheaded and like to learn from my failures I kept on picking bad apples. It wasn't until I stopped picking and just let God handle the situation that I was in. He placed someone in my life that I had prayed for and someone who I believe he wants for me. At first I was hesitant because I wasn't really sure if this was real. The dates were great, he was very nice and had everything that I was looking for. Of course my conversations with God became a little more specific after this. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't wasting my time with someone who isn't on the same page as me. So I prayed and prayed and prayed to God. Told him how I felt about this guy and asked him what he thought and what he thought I should do. Now, to some people this may sound crazy but it is totally possible to have a conversation with God. God has given me total reassurance that this guy is right for me. Now I'm not saying that I'm going to be jumping a broom any time soon, but I can definitely say that I am enjoying what's growing between us.
The point is that when you talk to God and don't listen to Him out of fear, you will surely see the difference when you really start listening and obeying what he says.
My conversations are typically about everyday life. Maybe some problems that I am going through or even something that was just a random thought. No matter how big or small I always take it to Him. I never feel ashamed to say what I'm thinking. Never do I feel like I asked a stupid question. The time nor the pace matters when I have these conversations. In the morning, on the subway, or even in an elevator. Al I need is a few shorts minutes and I'm good to go.
Over the past year I have been praying consistently for one specific thing. That is that God directs me to be a woman that he is proud of and give me a man who is after his heart. During the course of the year I have come across several men that God has directly told me to stay away from. However, since I'm hardheaded and like to learn from my failures I kept on picking bad apples. It wasn't until I stopped picking and just let God handle the situation that I was in. He placed someone in my life that I had prayed for and someone who I believe he wants for me. At first I was hesitant because I wasn't really sure if this was real. The dates were great, he was very nice and had everything that I was looking for. Of course my conversations with God became a little more specific after this. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't wasting my time with someone who isn't on the same page as me. So I prayed and prayed and prayed to God. Told him how I felt about this guy and asked him what he thought and what he thought I should do. Now, to some people this may sound crazy but it is totally possible to have a conversation with God. God has given me total reassurance that this guy is right for me. Now I'm not saying that I'm going to be jumping a broom any time soon, but I can definitely say that I am enjoying what's growing between us.
The point is that when you talk to God and don't listen to Him out of fear, you will surely see the difference when you really start listening and obeying what he says.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Let's Wait A While: Tamera Mowry Says She Didn't Lose Her Virginity Until She Was 29-Years-Old
Tamera has always been one of my favorite women. Not just for TV but her morals and views on life have always been ones to admire. Salute to you Tamera!
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
He Really Does Have That Whip Appeal: Songs You Probably Didn't Know Babyface Wrote And Produced
This is why he will always and forever be my favorite!
Friday, July 12, 2013
Fly Music Friday!!
http://youtu.be/jM_3dr1IQzA
Calico Panache- Diggin' You Remix
Looking for some new and eclectic music? Then search no more. Here is Callico Panache with a new video for their song Diggin' You.
These are some wonderful ladies that I had a chance to grow with in college. They started out as a dream and are now living it! So click on that video and watch for yourself!
Thanks for the love!
nikki
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Ruby Blues
I started working at Ruby Tuesday when I was 16 years old. I started off as a special person greeter, a fancy name for a host. I was the youngest new addition to the Ruby family. My new family was a group of peculiar people. Soon I became one of them.
Night shifts in Ruby’s always held events, but it’s the day shift that brought some of the most interesting characters. There was an old lady who came in every day at 11 o’clock. She lady had to be in her late 50’s to early 60’s. She always wore a grey sweater, black slacks and orthopedic shoes. Her hair was often pinned up in the back, she sometimes she would wear it down, hanging softly past her shoulders. She reminded me of Rose from Titanic, she had a certain gracefulness about her. She sat in the same booth, and would wait if it wasn’t available. She would always order the same thing. First she would order a glass of white wine, she would tell me her order but didn’t want it until she finished her first drink. She would always order the steamed dumplings with extra peanut sauce on the side. Then, she would order another glass of wine to finish her meal. Her total would always come out to $12.75 and she would always tip $2. Her cheap tip never really mattered, because her presence was always welcomed. It was something about her that made the whole restaurant feel at ease. She stayed consistent with her appearance for a year, and then she disappeared. I never knew her name or where she was from. It was as if she were never there.
The customers weren’t the only characters that came in Ruby Tuesday, my co workers were the show stoppers. I worked with all different kinds of people, from different parts of the city. The main attraction was my manager named Allison. Allison was 6’2” with short stubby hair. She had a slight hunch back and always wore high water pants. Allison was a 26-year-old black woman from Denver, Colorado. She believed that she was a white woman, she treated her hair and skin as if she were. When she came to work you could tell that she just washed it and didn’t do anything to it. Some black girls just can’t wash their hair, put their finger through it and go. They need a comb, brush, grease, and sometimes something to hold it down. Allison never got the memo for how to do black hair. We would often remind her of her natural ethnicity but she would only decline the notion. Allison had a boyfriend that she called Dirt. After meeting him I quickly understood the meaning of the nickname. Dirt was a white guy around the same age as Allison. He had a really thick beard that went from his nose to down his neck. Allison was very protective over Dirt and always questioned anything someone said to him. Allison and I never got along. It would be days were we didn’t speak during a whole shift. It was always best that way.
Other than Allison, the people who I worked with were easy to get along with. There was a couple, Inez and Brama. Inez was from El Salvador and Brama was from Nigeria. This couple was proof that there is love for everyone in the world. Inez had a very strong personality and would let you know firsthand of meeting her. She meant well but it often came off the wrong way. For example, Brama is a very big flirt and will openly do so, even if it would piss Inez off. When I first started working there, Brama would make sure that he liked what he saw in me. I never paid attention to this 30 something year old man. Inez on the other hand felt differently. She would never say things directly to me but there was always animosity in the air whenever she came around. Eventually she came around to realize that I had no interest in Brama, it was all in innocent fun.
Working at Ruby Tuesday taught me a lot about the real world and what it can hold. I was introduced to the drug world, strip clubs, alcohol addictions, prostitution, and much more. On my eighteenth birthday my manager Laura, whom I’m much closer to than Allison, told me that she was going to take me to the strip club. An all female strip club at that, and too my surprise the fact that I was old enough to get in the strip club excited me. I was getting to the point in my life where age brought rewards.
Every Friday night a lady, I liked to call New York because she looked like the reality TV star, would come into the bar and always order a Long Island Ice Tea. She always sat in the same seat and always ordered Asian dumplings. (Asian dumplings were a hot menu item apparently)Then at least ten minutes after she sat down a strange man would come sit next to her. After a few drinks they would leave together. An hour would pass and she would come back and do that same thing three times, with three different men. I didn’t understand it then, but my others co workers soon explained to me that she was a prostitute. I enjoyed being exposed to this world that I knew nothing about.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and there aren’t too many people in the restaurant yet. A guy came in and asked if he could get something to drink. I told him that he could but he had to pay for it. He didn’t respond with a “no thank you” so I made the drink and gave it to him. I went to check on another table, came back to give him his check and he was gone. I looked outside past the patio and there he was talking to his crew. I went outside and asked him why he didn’t pay for his drink. He told me that he didn’t think he had to. I asked him a couple more times, but after the fifth time I gave up in him. I went inside and told Dean, the bartender, what was going on. I went to the kitchen and when I return to the front of the store I saw Dean out front arguing with the man. I guess the conversation got heated because the next thing I knew they were both going at each others throats. I guess the guy wasn’t stronger than Dean because Dean through him through the patio glass door.
I had never seen a real fight before, let alone with someone being thrown out the window. I was in total shock, and I didn’t expect for Dean to do all of that. The guy never paid the tab for the drink, it was only $2 for a soda. He didn’t he press charges either. He never came back to Ruby Tuesday, and Dean remained working at Ruby’s. It’s like nothing ever happen, they just covered the door with hard plastic and keep moving on with the day.
I loved my times at Ruby Tuesday, it brought and took away some very important people in my life. I met my first long-term boyfriend there. The way that we met was really funny because I didn’t know that he was interested in me. He was Nigerian, but had a Caribbean accent. It was hard for me to understand what he as saying sometimes. So whenever he would talk to me my first response would often be, “Huh? What did you say?” We started talking in January 2008, everyone in the restaurant knew about it. It was no big secret. This relationship was blissful at the beginning but soon the Ruby blues would cause it to have some drama. Relationships in Ruby Tuesday don’t often last long, but some can stand the test of times. This just wasn't one of those relationships.
Night shifts in Ruby’s always held events, but it’s the day shift that brought some of the most interesting characters. There was an old lady who came in every day at 11 o’clock. She lady had to be in her late 50’s to early 60’s. She always wore a grey sweater, black slacks and orthopedic shoes. Her hair was often pinned up in the back, she sometimes she would wear it down, hanging softly past her shoulders. She reminded me of Rose from Titanic, she had a certain gracefulness about her. She sat in the same booth, and would wait if it wasn’t available. She would always order the same thing. First she would order a glass of white wine, she would tell me her order but didn’t want it until she finished her first drink. She would always order the steamed dumplings with extra peanut sauce on the side. Then, she would order another glass of wine to finish her meal. Her total would always come out to $12.75 and she would always tip $2. Her cheap tip never really mattered, because her presence was always welcomed. It was something about her that made the whole restaurant feel at ease. She stayed consistent with her appearance for a year, and then she disappeared. I never knew her name or where she was from. It was as if she were never there.
The customers weren’t the only characters that came in Ruby Tuesday, my co workers were the show stoppers. I worked with all different kinds of people, from different parts of the city. The main attraction was my manager named Allison. Allison was 6’2” with short stubby hair. She had a slight hunch back and always wore high water pants. Allison was a 26-year-old black woman from Denver, Colorado. She believed that she was a white woman, she treated her hair and skin as if she were. When she came to work you could tell that she just washed it and didn’t do anything to it. Some black girls just can’t wash their hair, put their finger through it and go. They need a comb, brush, grease, and sometimes something to hold it down. Allison never got the memo for how to do black hair. We would often remind her of her natural ethnicity but she would only decline the notion. Allison had a boyfriend that she called Dirt. After meeting him I quickly understood the meaning of the nickname. Dirt was a white guy around the same age as Allison. He had a really thick beard that went from his nose to down his neck. Allison was very protective over Dirt and always questioned anything someone said to him. Allison and I never got along. It would be days were we didn’t speak during a whole shift. It was always best that way.
Other than Allison, the people who I worked with were easy to get along with. There was a couple, Inez and Brama. Inez was from El Salvador and Brama was from Nigeria. This couple was proof that there is love for everyone in the world. Inez had a very strong personality and would let you know firsthand of meeting her. She meant well but it often came off the wrong way. For example, Brama is a very big flirt and will openly do so, even if it would piss Inez off. When I first started working there, Brama would make sure that he liked what he saw in me. I never paid attention to this 30 something year old man. Inez on the other hand felt differently. She would never say things directly to me but there was always animosity in the air whenever she came around. Eventually she came around to realize that I had no interest in Brama, it was all in innocent fun.
Working at Ruby Tuesday taught me a lot about the real world and what it can hold. I was introduced to the drug world, strip clubs, alcohol addictions, prostitution, and much more. On my eighteenth birthday my manager Laura, whom I’m much closer to than Allison, told me that she was going to take me to the strip club. An all female strip club at that, and too my surprise the fact that I was old enough to get in the strip club excited me. I was getting to the point in my life where age brought rewards.
Every Friday night a lady, I liked to call New York because she looked like the reality TV star, would come into the bar and always order a Long Island Ice Tea. She always sat in the same seat and always ordered Asian dumplings. (Asian dumplings were a hot menu item apparently)Then at least ten minutes after she sat down a strange man would come sit next to her. After a few drinks they would leave together. An hour would pass and she would come back and do that same thing three times, with three different men. I didn’t understand it then, but my others co workers soon explained to me that she was a prostitute. I enjoyed being exposed to this world that I knew nothing about.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and there aren’t too many people in the restaurant yet. A guy came in and asked if he could get something to drink. I told him that he could but he had to pay for it. He didn’t respond with a “no thank you” so I made the drink and gave it to him. I went to check on another table, came back to give him his check and he was gone. I looked outside past the patio and there he was talking to his crew. I went outside and asked him why he didn’t pay for his drink. He told me that he didn’t think he had to. I asked him a couple more times, but after the fifth time I gave up in him. I went inside and told Dean, the bartender, what was going on. I went to the kitchen and when I return to the front of the store I saw Dean out front arguing with the man. I guess the conversation got heated because the next thing I knew they were both going at each others throats. I guess the guy wasn’t stronger than Dean because Dean through him through the patio glass door.
I had never seen a real fight before, let alone with someone being thrown out the window. I was in total shock, and I didn’t expect for Dean to do all of that. The guy never paid the tab for the drink, it was only $2 for a soda. He didn’t he press charges either. He never came back to Ruby Tuesday, and Dean remained working at Ruby’s. It’s like nothing ever happen, they just covered the door with hard plastic and keep moving on with the day.
I loved my times at Ruby Tuesday, it brought and took away some very important people in my life. I met my first long-term boyfriend there. The way that we met was really funny because I didn’t know that he was interested in me. He was Nigerian, but had a Caribbean accent. It was hard for me to understand what he as saying sometimes. So whenever he would talk to me my first response would often be, “Huh? What did you say?” We started talking in January 2008, everyone in the restaurant knew about it. It was no big secret. This relationship was blissful at the beginning but soon the Ruby blues would cause it to have some drama. Relationships in Ruby Tuesday don’t often last long, but some can stand the test of times. This just wasn't one of those relationships.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
No Longer Starving for Love
So last night I received a late text from KC, a handsome fella that I am seeing, telling me about a sermon by Dr. Charles Stanley entitled "Starved for Love". After telling me that I should check it out I did so and listened to it the next day (today). I was initially a little confused on where the topic was going. However, after 5 minutes within the message I was immediately hooked.
Messages like this always come when you least expect it. KC and I have been seeing each other for about 2 months and things have been going well. We are trying to make it important to build a relationship that is pleasing in the eyes of God. Since this is something that is completely new to both of us we are finding it a bit difficult. Sometimes in my case overwhelming. Being in this very open and honest "relationship" has allowed for there to be very little room for doubt. Knowing that we are not perfect people, we fail and those failures can be a real drag when we are trying to accomplish something much greater than ourselves. But this is where the message comes into play.
Before this past year I know that I was starving for love. I am a fatherless child who has been abused physically, mentally, and sexually by 80% of the men that have been in my life. Time after time I would go into circles, dating the same type of guys and not learning from past mistakes and situations. I focused all of my time on my love life failing and what I was doing wrong. I was dating and picking men at the level of my self esteem. I needed to be picking a man that would lead, protect and pastor me. Dr. Charles Stanley lists 13 personality traits of someone who is starving for love, they are as follows:
After looking over this list I found that I had quite a number of these traits a few years. Not all, but more than I would like to have. I was starving for a love that was false and ungodly. A love that would eventually hurt me in the end and I would be back to square one.
The wonderful thing about KC and my "relationship" is that we both have the same goals and wants in a relationship. Just as I want a man who can lead, protect and pastor me he wants a woman that can help him become the man of God that he is called to be. We acknowledge when we are feeling a certain way and are unsure about whats going on. The number one thing is that God is the center of everything and that his love shines through it all. I'm not sure of the ending of this story with KC, but I can say because God is in the midst of this I know its going to be one pleasing to the heart. It's only been two months and everyday I am becoming more blessed and beautiful because God has placed him in my life.
Looking back on it I am happy I went through those situations. My story isn't finished yet, but if I hadn't gone through those things I would have never met someone who I know I prayed to God for a long time and who he himself gave to me. This thing is a work in progress and it takes a lot of patience, a lot of patience! All I can do is keep God first, love me second and be the best woman in Christ I know how to be.
Starving for love is of the past, now I can feast on it and become overwhelmingly full with joy.
Messages like this always come when you least expect it. KC and I have been seeing each other for about 2 months and things have been going well. We are trying to make it important to build a relationship that is pleasing in the eyes of God. Since this is something that is completely new to both of us we are finding it a bit difficult. Sometimes in my case overwhelming. Being in this very open and honest "relationship" has allowed for there to be very little room for doubt. Knowing that we are not perfect people, we fail and those failures can be a real drag when we are trying to accomplish something much greater than ourselves. But this is where the message comes into play.
Before this past year I know that I was starving for love. I am a fatherless child who has been abused physically, mentally, and sexually by 80% of the men that have been in my life. Time after time I would go into circles, dating the same type of guys and not learning from past mistakes and situations. I focused all of my time on my love life failing and what I was doing wrong. I was dating and picking men at the level of my self esteem. I needed to be picking a man that would lead, protect and pastor me. Dr. Charles Stanley lists 13 personality traits of someone who is starving for love, they are as follows:
- Someone who finds themselves in Immoral Situations: When sex becomes a road block to genuine love, esp. when they do not understand what love is about.
- Commit Crimes: A person will commit crimes because there is a deep yearning within themselves that is missing.
- Lacks Self Love
- Does excessive shopping to fill a void.
- They are lonely.
- They are critical of other peoples relationships.
- Angry all the time.
- Absorbed within themselves.
- They try to buy love.
- Overly Complimentary
- Always in Agreement
- Do whatever other people want.
- Willing to make personal sacrifices to buy love
After looking over this list I found that I had quite a number of these traits a few years. Not all, but more than I would like to have. I was starving for a love that was false and ungodly. A love that would eventually hurt me in the end and I would be back to square one.
The wonderful thing about KC and my "relationship" is that we both have the same goals and wants in a relationship. Just as I want a man who can lead, protect and pastor me he wants a woman that can help him become the man of God that he is called to be. We acknowledge when we are feeling a certain way and are unsure about whats going on. The number one thing is that God is the center of everything and that his love shines through it all. I'm not sure of the ending of this story with KC, but I can say because God is in the midst of this I know its going to be one pleasing to the heart. It's only been two months and everyday I am becoming more blessed and beautiful because God has placed him in my life.
Looking back on it I am happy I went through those situations. My story isn't finished yet, but if I hadn't gone through those things I would have never met someone who I know I prayed to God for a long time and who he himself gave to me. This thing is a work in progress and it takes a lot of patience, a lot of patience! All I can do is keep God first, love me second and be the best woman in Christ I know how to be.
Starving for love is of the past, now I can feast on it and become overwhelmingly full with joy.
Lazy Eyes and Such
When I was younger I had a lazy eye. I know that’s not the first thing that someone normally says when they first meet, but I think that it’s a good conversation starter.
The first time that I realized I had a lazy eye is when I was about 5 years old. My mom told me that I wasn’t born with it, it just happened as I got older. But the story that I am told is that when I was a child I would sit really close to the television. My mother would always say, “Nikki, you’re sitting too close to the TV, move back some.” I would soon reply, “Mama I can’t see.” I of course didn’t know what the problem was, but all I know is that soon after that incident I was in the eye doctor being fitted for my first pair of glasses. There I was, 5 years old, getting my first pair of glasses and that’s when all the torture began. Within an hour of eye blinking and saying letters I had just learned in daycare a year or two before. When I got some of the letters wrong, when the doctor covered one eye, he would tell my mother that I was too old not to know my alphabets. When the truth was that I couldn’t see them.
“She’s only 5, what do you expect from her. What you need to be worried about is getting her eyes straight,” my mother yelled.
“Ma’am by the looks of it, your daughter will never see clearly out of her right eye.”
Now, correct me if I’m wrong but I thought a doctor was supposed to let the family down easy with bad news. He told my mother that, as if she had just hit the lottery. But to her he just said that from now on your child has just become the laughing-stock for all those other evil elementary kids. So, my mother put my new glasses on me and said, “Baby, I love you even more now that you have a special eye. So don’t let anyone tell you different.” I knew that something was wrong with my eye, but I didn’t see it as a big deal. That was until I got to middle school.
Middle school has to be the worst time for a child to be going through any physical challenges in their life. Most days consisted of questions about my eye. Questions like, “What’s wrong with your eye?” or “Are you cross-eyed?” Days of constant staring and finger-pointing it was almost like I was a walking museum and the admission was free. My life was a joke for a long time and I felt that it was time to change my “special eye.” By this time my family and I had moved to Maryland and the possibility of getting help for my eye was a great chance. After a double dose of anesthesia, talk about cartoons, gas masks, two hours of cutting, stitching, and sewing, and last I remember, saying my alphabets backwards, I came out a brand new person. Released from the only one thing that I thought kids at school could tease me about. But again, I was wrong, because after my surgery I had to go back to school with a bloody red eye. The doctor failed to tell my mother that I would have to wear a patch over my eye because it would take about three months before my eye fully healed from surgery. The week after my surgery I was able to go back to school. I was terrified to return to school because of the stares and finger-pointing that was awaiting me. My mom drove me to school that day so I didn’t have to deal with school bus drama. When we got out of the car, I stayed in, only out of fear of the other kids teasing me. My mom pulled me and forced me to walk through the doors. That walk felt like the longest walk of my life. Might as well been on death row. I walked in school and it was nothing but all stares, finger-pointing and giggles. I knew it, I knew that was going to happen. But I had already made up my mind that I was going to be the laughing-stock of my school. I’m to make this funny somehow. As I looked around at all the kids staring, I took off my patch, walked to every kid and showed them what they wanted to see. My bloody red eye.
The first time that I realized I had a lazy eye is when I was about 5 years old. My mom told me that I wasn’t born with it, it just happened as I got older. But the story that I am told is that when I was a child I would sit really close to the television. My mother would always say, “Nikki, you’re sitting too close to the TV, move back some.” I would soon reply, “Mama I can’t see.” I of course didn’t know what the problem was, but all I know is that soon after that incident I was in the eye doctor being fitted for my first pair of glasses. There I was, 5 years old, getting my first pair of glasses and that’s when all the torture began. Within an hour of eye blinking and saying letters I had just learned in daycare a year or two before. When I got some of the letters wrong, when the doctor covered one eye, he would tell my mother that I was too old not to know my alphabets. When the truth was that I couldn’t see them.
“She’s only 5, what do you expect from her. What you need to be worried about is getting her eyes straight,” my mother yelled.
“Ma’am by the looks of it, your daughter will never see clearly out of her right eye.”
Now, correct me if I’m wrong but I thought a doctor was supposed to let the family down easy with bad news. He told my mother that, as if she had just hit the lottery. But to her he just said that from now on your child has just become the laughing-stock for all those other evil elementary kids. So, my mother put my new glasses on me and said, “Baby, I love you even more now that you have a special eye. So don’t let anyone tell you different.” I knew that something was wrong with my eye, but I didn’t see it as a big deal. That was until I got to middle school.
Middle school has to be the worst time for a child to be going through any physical challenges in their life. Most days consisted of questions about my eye. Questions like, “What’s wrong with your eye?” or “Are you cross-eyed?” Days of constant staring and finger-pointing it was almost like I was a walking museum and the admission was free. My life was a joke for a long time and I felt that it was time to change my “special eye.” By this time my family and I had moved to Maryland and the possibility of getting help for my eye was a great chance. After a double dose of anesthesia, talk about cartoons, gas masks, two hours of cutting, stitching, and sewing, and last I remember, saying my alphabets backwards, I came out a brand new person. Released from the only one thing that I thought kids at school could tease me about. But again, I was wrong, because after my surgery I had to go back to school with a bloody red eye. The doctor failed to tell my mother that I would have to wear a patch over my eye because it would take about three months before my eye fully healed from surgery. The week after my surgery I was able to go back to school. I was terrified to return to school because of the stares and finger-pointing that was awaiting me. My mom drove me to school that day so I didn’t have to deal with school bus drama. When we got out of the car, I stayed in, only out of fear of the other kids teasing me. My mom pulled me and forced me to walk through the doors. That walk felt like the longest walk of my life. Might as well been on death row. I walked in school and it was nothing but all stares, finger-pointing and giggles. I knew it, I knew that was going to happen. But I had already made up my mind that I was going to be the laughing-stock of my school. I’m to make this funny somehow. As I looked around at all the kids staring, I took off my patch, walked to every kid and showed them what they wanted to see. My bloody red eye.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)