Forty, do your worst.

“I toast my childhood. Upon the alter of youth I offered my trust and hope. An innocent heart that yearned for magic never understood.

I toast my adolescence. Upon the alter of desire I wished for love, willing to sacrifice anything. A stubborn attitude that I fire tempered to opalescence.

I toast my twenties. Upon the alter of pride I poured my blood, sweat, and tears. A willful mind hungry for knowledge and thirsty for opportunities.

I toast my thirties. Upon the alter of maturity I laid bare my devotions to family and future. An unbridled truth devoid of illusions or niceties.

Forty, do your worst. I made my offerings with sheer determination and the power of my convictions. Now, I wait to see what gifts the Fates have dispersed.”

His soliloquy done the man lifted his drink in the air and gave a slight nod in the direction of the clock before throwing back his double. The sound of his glass meeting the wooden table reverberated through the hushed room like a door slamming shut. Slowly the sound rolled back in and the bar went back to normal. Except for the fact that one-by-one each patron caught the man’s eye in acknowledgement.

Birthdays are hard for everyone I guess.

All rights to the owner of the image, who I thank for making available online.

Reality is never kind

Egg on my face again, and I would have guessed that by now I wouldn’t mind.

But when you believe in the lie you live reality is never kind.

Cut it clean or it’ll never mend, this isn’t a wound time can bind.

Swallow your tears then… happiness isn’t yours to find.

It’s

It’s late and the clock can’t do it justice.

It’s hard and respite isn’t on the horizon.

It’s sad but tears won’t help.

It’s effort or it ain’t gonna last.

It’s everything or it wasn’t nuthin much.

It’s broke but glue don’t work.

It’s pain and the hurt doesn’t stop.

It’s truth or it’ll never matter.

It’s begun but it hasn’t happened yet.

Rather, rather not

The truth is I would rather not.

I would rather not be the maid, the butler, and the bank.

I would rather not be the difference between swam or sank.

I would rather not be the cure if it means I must have been the cause.

I would rather not be the measure of motion against your pause.

I would rather shine without worry of your tarnish.

I would rather act with impunity and without carnage.

I would rather be who I am without censor.

I would rather live my life without wanting more.

So the lie is I alway will.

Scream #2 Art Print by andreaslie

Found Out

I’m tired.

I’m succeeding.

I’m only half awake.

I’ll try harder.

I’ll be overwhelmed.

I’ll take it in stride.

I’ve exceeded expectations.

I’ve failed.

I’ve been my own worst enemy.

I’d fake it.

I’d grow.

I’d be found out.

Confrontation

Deep breath.

Exhale.

But the thunder still comes, fast and loud, as the storm builds.

Blink.

Straighten your posture.

Uncross your arms.

Breathe again.

More thunder. Heat rising in waves, keeping time like a metronome, setting the pace of my indignation.

I try to get a word in edgewise, to no avail.

I rearrange my expression.

Confusion. Anger. Hurt. Dismay.

Go with confusion.

When the words stop the thunder doesn’t. Though I’ve swallowed the heat of my anger it’s not gone.

Her words stick to me like acid rain eating and burning away at my resolve. Was it me?

We’ll never be friends. Fact. Statement. Promise.

I’m engulfed in fire I don’t care to extinguish, and just as fire tempers steal I can sense a hardening in parts of me.

Blink. Lest the smolder in my eyes flares up.

Breathe. So the thunder can continue its rhythm.

Peace. It’s not mine to fix.

I am Science…

​I am Science. Define me.

I am no regal lady like Justice or Liberty.

I cannot be swayed like Luck or personified as “She”.

I stand without gender, color, or creed

For all questions and every need.

I am the breaker of barriers, the truth teller, the seed;

Fruit from the knowledge tree.

Yet so few can actually see

What is instilled in me.

I am patient not self seeking.

Jealous of your time without envy,

But at my core I am constant and freeing.

So do not allow yourself to be blinded politically 

Or silenced by ambition and folly.

Instead strive forward deliberately.

To challenge all who would dare to bar entry

Those whom ardently wish to stand sentry 

Over facts and figures approaching infinity.

Put your labels aside, throw away the lock and key.

Welcome criticism, evolution, and diversity.

For I am Science, defined by what I can be.

The Sin of Indifference

I am not a product of abuse…

no cuts or bruises mar my visage.

I am a survivor of indifference….

proud of the scars upon my psyche and the mended fractures to my resolve.

And so I live with the uneasy truce

between who I see in the mirror and the worn out images

held up in reference

so that I might try, tirelessly, to compete with a stereotype which has never evolved.

My success?

Downplayed.

My dreams?

Limited.

My identity?

Predetermined.

So still I come home to clean, cook, and amuse

as if there had been no woman’s suffrage,

and I smile and nod in deference

as those around me try to force me to devolve.

But I know my strength and my views

and I feel not alone, as I am but one in this strong female lineage.

So ignore me and worse… make your inferences.

I know I’m good getting better as I absolve…

your hateful sin of indifference.

As seen on quoteambition.com

Ph.insheD.

In the quite moment after, she smiled…

It reached her eyes,

And filled her heart.

It was hers, this moment, and none could take it away.

*******

I did it! I successfully defended my Ph.D!
I’m sorry to have been gone for so long but my cup overflow, and sleep took precedence in my free time. If you are still there thank you, if you are new welcome.

My love

As seen on Huffington Post - all rights to owner -

My love is not easy to explain. 

It is an ache inside me; reminding me that I would rather hurt than be wrong.  It is the part of me that clings to promises both unbreakable and unknowable. 

It terrifies me.  Freezing me in place. 

I cannot define it, this love of mine.  It does not fit well in the pre-labeled boxes I am familiar with.  It is not the stuff fairy tales are made of.

But it is mine, and for reasons I can not justify I choose it again every day.

My love is not easy to explain.