From Her Fingertips

I write in sentences. He speaks in words.  I give him questions. He returns the answers.  I feel lost. He knows the way.  I listen. He makes music.  I think. He does.  Him and I. 

Everyone knows they shouldn't be mixed. I went against my better judgement and I'm paying for it. Yes, literally. 

Just found the short stories I wrote for my first ever creative writing class that I took four years ago. I loved that class. It was the first time I wrote with a purpose, it was also the first time I wrote something that other people would read. I was very nervous about taking the class. It's scary letting people give feedback on what you love the most. But taking that class enabled me to grow as a person as a writer. I learned a lot from the feedback I received on my own texts as well as giving others feedback. I read on of the stories today. It was so mundane and simplistic. It took me back to that period of my life, it was so different. I was younger, less experienced and a full time student. The story made me smile. I could recognize my style of writing in the text, but it was like reading someone else's story. I've decided to keep my old stories in a safe place so I can pull them out years from now and remember who I was back then. 

We all have one, there's no escaping it. For some it is filled with good things, for others it's filled with bad things. But it is what brought us to today, good or bad. Why is it that in relationships the other person's past doesn't always "fit in". Seriously, I know there are exes, sexual experimentation, drunk nights etc. but I really don't need to know! I want you for who you are today, not who you were back then. If I wanted the drama with exes, drunkeness etc I would have chosen a man that is in that period of his life. So don't talk so much about the past, let's focus on our future.

There are blog posts, written down and in my head. More and more each day. Or do blog posts only become blog posts after they are published? Because in all honesty what I have are beginnings, sometimes middles, rarely ends. Beginnings are my strength. Middles usually bore me. Ends are my weakness. 

When you are going through a crisis in your life it is sometimes surprising who is there for you and who chooses to turn their back. The people that you thought were the closest to you may actually be the ones that back the furthest away. It's difficult to work through a crisis as well as feeling abandoned by people you really love. What's that quote again, something about knowing who your friends are because your friends are the ones that stay when everyone else leaves? Well, that quote exists for a reason. It's hurtful realizing that the people you have given support, time and love for years don't give the same thing back when you need it the most. It makes you loose trust. If the people that say they love you aren't there for you, then who will? The beauty on the other hand is having other people rise to the occasion and be there. Not just say they will be there, but actually be there. A shoulder to cry on, a phone call in the middle of the night, positive w...

All the clichés start making sense once you become a parent. It is like having your heart outside your body. The fear of something happening to your child is so deep and so real, I cannot find words for it. My biggest fear, since before she was born, is loosing my daughter. I worry that I will get a phone call while I'm at work saying she's in the hospital or worse. A few years ago I wrote a short story about a mom who's daughter dies in an accident. Though it was fiction and it was not real, I felt that story. Imagining loosing a child was painful. Just imagining it was painful. So when I hear about a parent loosing their child it gets to me in a way that nothing else gets to me. A parent shouldn't have to bury their child. A child should not have to die. It makes no sense, it's not fair! So being a parent is worrying all the time. Worrying about all the billion things that could go wrong and struggling to stay in control. Knowing that you can't control ...

Being a light skinned (biracial) is according to a lot of people a benefit. To me it has always, or at least for as long as I can remember, been a struggle. I've always wanted to be darker. Though no one has ever mistaken me for being white (Latina yes, white no) I've somehow always felt like my African features weren't enough. Like my coily hair and my dark almost black eyes weren't enough proof of me being African. I wonder where this come forms? I can't remember anyone saying anything that would have been the catalyst of this feeling. Maybe it just came from me. Even today when I see beautiful black women a hint of jealousy is there. It's not their beauty, it's the deep brown of their skin, nothing is more beautiful. Though mainstream media prefers a Beyonce look before a India Arie look, I'm the opposite. Maybe because my complexion is closer to Beyonce's than India Arie's. For most of my life I've had to explain why my skin is brow...

It's clear that I'm standing before the end of a friendship. It's like any situation really: a relationship between lovers, a work place, the ending of a book or a movie, it's clear. But I keep on avoiding the last chapter. For all the wrong reasons. This is not the first time a relationship with a friend ends. My friendships tend to be very intense and not eternal. There is the beginning when I find myself have so much in common with the other person, it's the falling in love part. Then comes the part when we become close, we share secrets, we do a lot of things together, build on what we already have. And then, almost always comes the beginning of the end. It's usually laced with let downs and breaching of trust. Sometimes it's like taking off those pink shades and seeing that person for who they really are, and not liking it. At times it's just the sense of not feeling the connection anymore. Sometimes I feel I get bored, we are having the same ...

This song changed everything.

I've been thinking about this blog for years, wanting to do it but having a million and one reasons not to. It's always easy to come up with excuses when you want to. But lately I've been feeling more of a need to do this, to start something new and personal. I don't know where this will take me, but I'm willing to explore. The name "From Her Finger Tips" took me a while to think of. I've always struggles with titles. I tried a whole array of names before settling on this one. I choose this one because it feels right. And it tells of what I think this blog will be. I also seem to write about hands and finger tips a lot so it just feels like the natural name of a blog I'll be writing. Let the blog journey begin!