The Life of a Premature Metro Goddess

9/26/2007 I wrote this lengthy entry on why I was apprehensive about posting certain things to my blog. Probably because I think too much, I over analyze, and I'm constantly concerned with making sure I'm understood... but whatever. I need all that space to be filled with silence. I'd rather have nothing, than nothing disguised as something. -Like A Thief In the Night They say I write like a thief; take a piece of those men from my pen to this page a chronicle remembering all the mistakes I made. Like that sweat off your brow taste that sweet from your mouth I let you go south.... from my pen to this page. This golden honey smells like spices and sage. Must be a king or a mage Cuz he's got me glazed over and swaying to his beat In this African Ass Heat... From my pen to this page. Finding ways not to want him as he comes and he goes. And he comes as I leave him from my pen to this page. Why shouldn't I be heated burning red hot embers ...

9/24/2007 I have blogging fear. What does that mean you ask? Despite the fact that I created this little place on the web for myself in order for people to better understand who I am, and the life I've come to exist within, I have a fear of my blog being read. To go a little deeper, I am a writer. I am a poet. When I write I reach deep within myself and pull out every inch, every ounce, every crumb of emotion that could even begin to express what it is that I might want to say. I am honest. That is the essential core of everything I write or say but sometimes it is quite possible that my honesty, or the presence of my emotions over time displayed visually in a textual format has the ability to be 1. Misinterpreted, 2. Over analyzed, 3. Taken out of context. My worst fear is censuring myself because I'm afraid of the power of my words, but then that is why I write because of the power of my words so to deny that would be some form of self directed hypocrisy...and I rant on a...

I am different. I never claimed to be anything but. I am a collage of hometowns and lifestyles, music and messages, emotions and expressions, and all those things between. You know me when you see me, unless you think you know what you can't really see. I am waterfront walks, penny candy, toes between the grass on a summer afternoon. I have sat with my Matriarch amongst the trees, and sat with my thoughts beneath the stars. I am the words and the wisdoms that make me to be....a sibling, a songbird, a "silent storm". I've been teaching and taught to, bringing and brought to, learning and learned through all of these things. I've been kissed and the kisser, the miss makes them miss her, the turns take and twist her in this game we call life. I recall all my answers, the fire walker and the dancer, and yet still it remains that you think you know me. You can't. Couldn't begin to fathom the intricate web of this spider's game. Not one d...

Maybe I'm just tired.... Tired of tending this loose end, this frayed edge, this split end. I'm tired of determining my place amongst your expectations, I'm tired of playing with ups and downs I'm tired of this manic situation All I want is breathing time All I need is what's necessary to such But I cannot find much of those things here Everything is so heavy, Everything is so thick. This foggy abyss surrounds me And I'm not moving in Not moving out A fish out of water, I flounder... Struggle to keep my head above When its coming at me in every direction. Calm me, soothe me, move me. Coming at me from every direction. Touch me, tease me, loose me. Yet coming from no direction at all. I fall back in time, Asleep in thought of mind. I fall... I quiet. I fall... I let go. I fall... I fall.... I fall... FiREfly

If this world were different, and not perfect, because that type of existence is not allotted to us; if this world were different I would answer yes. When you look at me and the words flow from your lips I would smile to myself, that smile would spread across my face, then the entirety of my being and I would say "yes". But then this world is no different than it were a moment ago, and within the moments I have learned the harsh and jagged difficulties of this difference. I've learned that sometimes time moves things at a pace that can only be seen through the forgotten images of our still memories, because moving so fast living in the moments can seem almost a dream. I have learned that time makes us wait for things that we cannot face, that we cannot have, and that we want in urgent immediacy. I don't want the stability of constancy, I did not sign up for those things, and this is neither the time nor the place. I want the hesitancy of lips touching lips, ...

I'm on a break... a break from BFEBF. I haven't done this writing thing in quite sometime and yet something is stirring inside of me once again and it becomes so very necessary. This hiatus if you will initiated itself after months and months of thought and pondering. My life as a Premature Metro Goddess was described in great length in the initial entry on this space and somehow I've managed to evolve on that path while at the same time adjusting to a life I never expected. I fell hard and fast for someone I never expected. I loved and love him, and yet that was not enough. Not enough because I had not expected to be in that place at this time. I come from a place where I was ready to live for me, do for me, and bask in the selfish joy of being 22. I come from that place yet have been living for a while in a completely different location, one of compromise, commitment, and the duality of a two sided coin. Don't get me wrong, this is not to say that I did not ado...

I feel a bit trapped. I keep wondering why I return to this place where I can't see the Sun, where I feel as if I'm stuck in a pit of emotion that I can't work through, can't get out of. It's amazing how I've come to believe that my past really hasn't affected my present, and yet I am sitting here today, writing this today, feeling the way I do again today. I have daddy issues...A complex web of years isolated, and lectured to, and sat aside to which I said I was ok, and I'm not. I am angry, I am hurt, and I am furious. No matter how mature I am no matter how many years I have progressed into adulthood there is still a part of me which is a little girl wondering why her parents can never get along. Why my parents can't work together to create someplace where I am safe and stable. I am angry at my parents for putting their anger before my well being. I am angry at my father for making excuses, not understanding, talking around me like a well ver...

This blog will be a little bit of Ashley thinking on paper. Some of my opinions are still being formed so keep and open mind. The Down Low; I’m sure we’ve all had some form of exposure to this modern concept, phrase, and/or lifestyle. The term has evolved quite far from R. Kelly’s original video concept of keeping his secret affair on the down low…Well that is until the boss’s men came in and found the boss’s girl with the boss’s boy (Kelly) and that’s when the shit hit the fan… oh how I reminisce. But let’s play catch up. For you who aren’t familiar with the term a brief overview brought to you courtesy of Urban Dictionary.com… { refers to when closeted black men leading mostly heterosexual lives seek other men for sex that is often anonymus and unprotected } oh I love the internet. Although the terminology for this lifestyle has only recently been established, there have always been men, and women for that matter, living in the confines of a traditional heterosexual marriage whi...

I have a cold, I am pmsing, and there is a Tropical Depression, Ernesto, who has managed to complete the whole ruining process of my weekend. I have a cold. And although I am one of those “don’t do the medicated bullshit” type of girls, I’ve been doped up all day long on Dayquil and in about an hour it will be Nyquil…gel caps because I DON’T DO LIQUIDS… hell I’m not a child. I know how to swallow (and don’t make that last statement into something it shouldn’t be). I am pmsing which my boyfriend likes to refer to that as “During These Times”. And you know all those stereotypical lies that men continue to plant into our social subconscious about women being these over emotional creature who could cry at the drop of a hat… well I hate to say it but sometimes that shit it true. There was this one time when I was younger that for some reason my mother screwed up the food order and I didn’t get my double bacon cheeseburger with lettuce and mayo (Dairy Queen)… I screamed, I cried, and th...

I'm a little bored and a little too comfortable. And I get like that sometimes, you all know that, you read this blog I don't need details to convey where I am. Honestly when I think about the way things are I realize that I'm really not bored at all. It's more like I'm comfortable; you know the way you get when big things that happen don't have to be big enough to tell the world because everything around you doesn't suck at the moment, and when things don't suck the big things tend to be less magnified due to the fact that you don't need gigantic things to make everything ok... And boy that's a mouth full. Although there is so much I could tell you. I could tell you about going to dinner with BFEBF... My best friends ex boyfriend who is now my boyfriend...I could tell you how we went out to dinner with my best friend and her fiancee and how things went so well... I could also mention that The Best Friend and myself were a little loopy (aka t...

Pain is temporary, pride is forever... I have become that girl. The one you see all distraught at the gas station because she just left her boyfriend's house and he lives a few hours away. That girl, by the way, is a bit ridiculous because even though she's crying and pumping gas and listening to Wild Horses on her IPod, the boyfriend is on speaker phone talking to her the entire time...speaker phone because she drives like a mad woman when she's holding her phone and the steering wheel and clicking away at the IPod. Now rereading that, no I haven't become that girl entirely. In actuality the only piece of that I can claim is the Ipod, bad driving and speaker phone thing...no crying at the gas station, I'm a soldier . Pain is temporary, pride is forever... I will claim that as well. That's what his t-shirt says, the one that I like from the Coast Guard Academy, the one that I tried to take but he wouldn't let me...the one that he stuck in my suitcase...

You asked for it. You asked to put a face with the name which had been shrouded in a complex and complicated past. You asked and you got what you wanted when you know you should have left it where it was in the first place. Why is it that you can get past the fact that BFEBF is just that, you can be in the same room hanging pictures and sipping Bacardi and not feel a second of insecurity or hesitation? But you look at a picture from the past, his past and instantly you are taken to a place where you are no longer number one and you are just the one he ended up with when the rest didn’t seem to work out. But then that is life. It’s a series of tests and trials which might not come to the conclusion on end result which you hope. Hell you don’t even know where 10 years will lead you… matching chocolate labs and Volvos, or perhaps daily prayer as you wake up in a convent and go about your holy orders…yes that’s an exaggeration. Maybe being in the room with you best friend and her e...

I didn't realize until last night that I hadn't written poetry since November...that is a long time. Yay for new stuff... And I Said I said I want it messy, We all know what that means. I want it like it was before, With all the ones there was before... But before is before I knew you, Before you knew me, Before we knew what we could be, What we would be, And so this is where I am. I say I wanted messy when this is what I mean. I want you wanting me; Heart beating, Heavy breathing, In between moments and seconds In between you. Your lips and my hips Damn this space in between There’s no space between And you know what I mean In between me and you. I want body shivering Legs quivering Passion exists betwixt… I want you, I need you, You Love Miss Kiss Kiss me slower, Kiss me lower And now I’m drowning in what we are. And to think that before I never, Maybe we’ll do this forever Maybe you have me If you want me Then I’m yours. But do you have me? I mean if you want me… And then… I...

Can someone explain to me this whole Vera Bradley phenomenon? Does everyone even know about it? Ms. Bradley is like the new Louis Vuitton bag to some. A simple bag, ranging from purse to diaper, that appears to be made from an assortment of printed quilt like material. My first introduction to Ms. Bradley was at my Alma Mater, all the rage at this conservative, Southern, liberal arts school in Virginia. Ms. Bradley was and is making money out the wazoo. And what is it that she has? I’m unsure, but what I do know is that patterns and quilt like material aside she has girls running to the bookstore on the regular dropping 20’s on pencil cases, and 50’s on mini purses, I dare to even consider the price of the coveted duffel. She’s got your boyfriends running in and doing the same, all to fall swiftly and smoothly into the crosshairs of your good graces. Low and behold upon leaving my lovely little school, Ms. Bradley is everywhere…EVERYWHERE. Shop windows, on the Metro, in the Cosi...

Sometimes I just like it to be messy. That is what I told the best friend yesterday. That is what I then told BFEBF, because it is true. What do I mean by that you ask? I mean sometimes love is amazing. Sometimes the intense emotional care and concern is overwhelmingly amazing and time transcending. But then along with that sometimes you just want to be wanted so much that the other person canÂ’t breathe. Sometimes you want it to be heavy breathing, hands everywhere, "not so fast", "don't push that hard", clothes anywhere, up against a wall...messy. I say that wanting you to retain in your head my great love for the virginity I still have...you figure it out. Love vs. Lust, Nurture vs. Nature...2006. It's ok for a girl to pick any of those. It's ok to like it messy, to get it messy; because sometimes a girl doesn't need to hug, sometimes a girl just needs to be pushed up against a wall and that is ok. Yea, sometimes I like it to be messy. ...

I am happy! Did I just type that, is it possible that I could truly be at that point so quickly in the midst of my wanton in between? I should begin by saying I can't talk. My voice kind of escaped from me at some point during An Inconvenient Truth at the E Street Cinema. I went in with a voice, I came out... No voice. Maybe it got trapped in between the seats or something. (By the way GO SEE THAT MOVIE AND STOP DRIVING AMERICAN CARS...:-D) Now let's just get to the point; no beating around the bush, no background then easing you into the decision I have made. I like my best friend's ex boyfriend. Close your mouth, get that look of shock, disdain, and disgust off of your face. I cannot see it anyway and thus it really has no effect on me. Now don't we all feel better? This was not some rash, spur of the moment, underthought decision. It took some time, some evolving, some very important conversations, and much needed evaluation of exactly what it is that is going ...

I have a simple question for you all to ponder. What happens when your Best Friends Ex Boyfriend (B.F.E.B.F pronounced BaFebFa) decides to like you? Amazingly enough I have a simple answer to accompany that simplistic question...you run for the hills like they are coated with money and one of those cute Italkian soccer players is there to help you collect; oh yes that is after you have knee'd said B.F.E.B.F in the groin and ensured that he has lost the ability to procreate. See people this is what we call common sense, logical thinking, the way of the world of sanity. This is of course where my complications arise. MY B.F.E.B.F likes me. And somehow I managed to stay away from the hills and he still has the ability to procreate...well from what I know anyway but that is irrelevant. What do you do when you B.F.E.B.F likes you, you can't stop talking to him, and your best friend won't tell you no? I say this because I have asked, pleaded, begged her to tell me to stay away...

I am broken again. I say that in way which does not relate to my emotional or physical state of being, solely to the way in which I offer all these thoughts of mine to whoever it is that reads them here. I cannot write. I have heard that in those moments when you cannot write, you must write because that is the only way to get yourself past that phase. I also heard a poet on Def Poetry who says he writes when he doesn't want to so he can get out the shit he doesn't know is inside of him...And so I write. I fill this space with words that mean nothing to me at the moment. There are several important things going on in my life which I could tell you all about but to say them at right now, not knowing how to convey them with the emotional content that has collected around them, would not do them justice and so I write. I write because I want to scream out. I want to stand outside and let all the wrongs wash away with the moving wind. And when I want to do that I write, I get i...

It has been awhile...I blame this on dial-up and the fact that I'm in a sort of evolutionary limbo at the moment. Not going forward, not going backward just stuck : ( I would write about that but then I don't need to live it and see it in word form as well. I wrote something a while ago, a long while ago. At the time I thought it was this grand revelation into life...it was not : ) But it is slightly entertaining. I'm posting because I had a conversation the other day with The Best Friend's Ex-Boyfriend (How does that work?) about kissing and that show How To Get the Guy. To sum up the conversation: Me: I don't want a guy to suck off my face or my nose or my chin. BFEBF: Ok so what things are like a must Me: Nothing BFEBF: I mean there has to be some things that are just like it Me: It's individualistic. It depends on each individual person. You just don't know how it can be fixed until it happens. Kind of like the foundation of a house. You may ...

Last night I happened to catch one of Dateline NBC's reports on internet predators. I'd seen the commercials and somehow managed to miss all the ones before. After this all I have to say is wow. It is completely incomprehensible just how sick and twisted the members of our society have become, what's even harder to reconcile is the fact that maybe they haven't become sick and twisted, maybe they've always been that way...this seems a lot more likely to me. Maybe this sick, twisted, predatorial nature has been incubating under the surface, under the radar, under our noses forever just waiting for the proper moment to open up, waiting for the proper tool with which to bring chaos into our world, the internet. There are so many things about the broadcast which upset me, I'm sure I couldn't list them all, but the most pressing is the fact that sooo many men, this complete variety of grandfathers, fathers, brothers, uncles, fireman, rabbi, teachers, husbands, y...