Foolish Thoughts

Mom: “You’re going to sneak it in?”

Brooke: “YES, I’m a rule breaker.  Want to join me?  Live on the dangerous side?”

Mom: “If we’re caught, we’ll get kicked out.”

Brooke: “True, but it will be fun, like an adventure.  We can even have code names…Thelma and Louise, and on the way home we can drive off a cliff.”

Mom: “Ok, but I don’t want water, get me a Diet Coke.”

Brooke: “Whoa, Diet Coke…don’t get too wild on me.”

Later at the movies……………………….

Mom: “Can I please have a large popcorn and a Diet Coke?”

Brooke: “Mom, what are you doing?  You already have something to drink.”

Mom: “I know, but I just can’t do it.”

Brooke: “Are you serious?  It’s a freaking Diet Coke.  You’re not smuggling in a five star cuisine.”

Mom: “I know, I know.  But, I can’t break the rules, it’s against the law.”

Brooke: “Wow, remind me if I ever need someone to help me move a dead body, not to call you.  You disappoint me Mom.”

As of yesterday, I hadn’t checked my voice mail in almost two weeks.  Yes, my phone etiquette sucks.  Get over it, I’m a busy girl.  Not that I’m busy getting busy.  Nope, no such luck.  It’s just that I’m busy with; well…I’m just busy.

I hate checking my voice mail, hate it.  I loathe checking it and even more I hate leaving voice mail.  I never know what or how much information to give.  Do I state the date and time?  Do I leave a call back number?  This seems ridiculous, because if I’m calling you, then you are probably someone who I talk to on a day to day basis.  This means, you should have my number.  Do I tell you my specific reason for calling, or do I simply say I will call you back?  I also hate leaving messages because like me, what if you never check your messages?  What if it’s vital I get in touch with you?  What if I have something really important to tell you, like a really funny joke, or that I’ve done something really stupid and I need someone to laugh along with me?  What do I do?  This is where I feel, if it’s really THAT important to get in touch with someone, then you will keep calling until they answer, especially if it’s to laugh at your stupid ass for doing something stupid.

Here are a few of the messages I wished I would have answered…

Message # 1: “Hello there Clairece.  It’s me.  Of course you know it’s me.  I was on the phone arguing with my mom when you called.  And I wasn’t going to hang up until I won…which I did.  Give me a call when you get this.  I had something I wanted to tell you………Oh, I remember.  It was something I heard on a Christian station.  It was SO funny.”

 I later called him back, asking the important question: “Why were you listening to a Christian station?  Were you not afraid God might smite you?”

Message # 2: “Brooke!  I don’t know why you have a phone.  You NEVER answer it.  You either never have it on, never have it with you or you screen your calls.  Are you screening your calls?  You better not be screening your calls.  If I find out that you screened my call, I will never speak to you again.  NEVER.  Call me back.”

It’s true.  I never have my phone with me and when I do, I rarely have it on.  And I do screen my calls.  Sometimes I just don’t feel like talking.

Message # 3: Sung by Jaymez.  “Beauty school dropout, no graduation day for you.  Beauty school dropout, missed your midterms and flunked shampoo!  Well at least you could have taken time, to wash and clean your clothes up, after spending all that dough to have the doctor fix your nose up!”
 

I always smile when Jaymez sings me messages.  And it really doesn’t get any better than, Beauty School Dropout.

Message # 4: “Brooke, it’s your mother.  I’ve called you three times.  Where are you?

Case in point:  I screen my calls.  Don’t worry, I called her back.  She’s my mom, of course I called her back, I love her.  Plus, she would have kept calling.

Message # 5: “Why aren’t you picking up your phone?  Your nephew wants to say good night to you. 
Milo, come say good night to your Auntie Brooke.  Come on.  He’s angry, cause you didn’t pick up your phone.”

Milo would be my cat nephew.  Yes, CAT. I don’t need to mention that I HATE cats. 

You were pure joy right from the start.  I had no idea it was possible to love someone as much as I loved you, the moment I saw you for the first time.  You were small, but bigger than what I was expecting, tiny but long. Your feet and toes were cute and chubby. Your fingers were pink and fragile wrapped around my finger.  You had a head full of gorgeous dark hair, which sadly, later all fell out.  I held you in my arms for what seemed like hours, just looking at you.  I examined every inch of your body, counting every finger and every toe.  You were perfect.

That was a year ago.  Now you are a big girl, walking and exploring around every corner.  Your hair has grown in, but it’s lighter than before.  You don’t have much, but what you have is soft and beautiful.  Though, your mother likes to tease you and say you have a baby mullet.  But don’t worry, one day you will have long dark beautiful hair just like your mom.  You are talking now.  Mostly you make sweet baby noises, but you love to say, “Dad” even if he is not in the room.  I think you do this just to make your mother mad, and it does.  You laugh and get excited over nothing.  You like to scream just to hear your own voice.  You can read books, even though it sounds like gibberish.  I believe you are really reading and you look so cute doing it.  But nothing makes me smile more than to see you crinkle up your nose and show your teeth.  It makes me want to grab you and squeeze you in my arms.  My heart explodes every time you do it.  You also know how to wink.  This trick, your mother taught you will come in handy with the boys later.  But we need to work on winking just one eye, and not two.

There are so many things I want to share and teach you.  I can’t wait to buy you your first caramel latte from Starbucks.   I can’t wait to introduce you to the Wizard of Oz.  Share with you the importance of facial care and cleansing. I can’t wait to tell you about boys and dating…which will be a LONG time from now, because you’re not allowed to date until you are thirty-five.  I can’t wait to teach you the difference between bargain shopping and purchasing crap.  You will know that a girl can never have too many shoes or too many bags, and that it’s ok if it takes more than an hour to get ready.  I look forward to educating you in “good” music, such as; David Gray, Rachael Yamagata, Josh Radin, Damien Rice, Rhett Miller and of course taking you to your first broadway show.  I want to share with you the story about the day your mother and I thought you were coming, and how on the outside I remained calm and collected but on the inside I was a nervous wreck.  Then it turned out that your mom was just sick from eating at Applebee’s.  I want to be able to share my favorite books, authors and poets with you.  But mostly, I want to tell you how wonderful a mother you have.  Lili, you have an incredible mother, one who would do anything for you.  She is strong, independent, beautiful, intelligent, loving, hilarious, intense, and as we both know, is addicted to horrible teeny-bopper music, such Justin Timberlake, who she refers to as “J.T.” because she fancies him. Your mother is someone who you can talk to and come to with anything.  Look up to her, love her, and respect her, she is amazing.

Lili, you mean the world to me.  I know you have only been here a year, but it feels like forever.  I cannot imagine a time without you.  I love everything about you; your sweet smile, sweet smell, sweet voice, and your sweet chubby cheeks.    

While reading, Ariel Levy’s Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture, I was educated on the surprisingly popular procedure called “vaginoplasty” or “vaginal rejuvenation.” Ok, first, what the hell is vaginoplasty and why would I want my vagina rejuvenated? But then again, I was clueless to what it was.  So, I read on to learn that “it is a cosmetic operation to alter the labia and vulva so they look more like the genitals one sees in Playboy or porn.”  Yes, that’s right, it’s so your Va-J.J. can look like all the other skank whores that reside in your favorite porn.  However, this procedure is for looks only.  That’s right ladies; it does not enhance sexual pleasure, contrary to what the word ”rejuvenate” might lead you to believe.  No, no, no.  Surgeons warn that having “this procedure can cause painful scarring and nerve damage that impede sexual function (i.e., make the vulva painfully hypersensitive or numb?)”  YES, please, sign me up!  There’s nothing more I want than a hypersensitive numb VAGINA!  Though, apparently, there is a huge demand for it.   Now, I’ve heard about women wanting to have their clitoral hoods reattached or having their hymen sewn back together so they feel and look like a virgin again.  Seriously, do you really think your man doesn’t know that you’re not a virgin?  Please.  Once your cherry is popped, that’s it, there’s no going back and re-attaching it to the tree.  And having an expensive surgery is not going to change it. This whole idea disturbs me to no end, along with rejuvenating your vagina.  Who comes up with this stuff?  Who, I ask you…WHO?

*UPDATE: I wasn’t saying that the clitoral hood, the hymen or cherry popping have anything to do with virginity.  I was merely saying that there are silly girls who do.  Trust me, these gullible girls are out there, they’ll believe anything.

Before I fall asleep each night, I pray.  There are certain things I pray for, certain people, certain situations, certain uncertainties, and certainly myself. I always need to be forgiven for something.  Though, my prayer life as an adult is different than my prayer life when I was young.   As a child, I would worry I would forget something or someone. Then, if something happened, it would be my fault.  I also believed there was a
RIGHT WAY to pray. Therefore, I started to write my prayers down.  I knew I would not leave anything out if I first put them to paper. I’m still not sure if I pray the RIGHT WAY, but MY WAY works best for me.  My mother recently found a letter that I wrote to God when I was six.  When I read it, I laughed out loud.  My spelling was horrendous. Though, what I lacked in spelling and grammar I made up for in content and artistic ability. I can actually remember writing this particular letter.  My Grandmother, my father’s mother, was a heavy smoker and I constantly worried that she was going to die like my Grandfather.  This was one of many letters that I wrote to God concerning this issue.   However, letters to God did not compare to the thousands of letters I must have wrote to my mother.  After I would write them, I would go and place them on top of her pillow, so it would be the first thing her eye caught as she stepped into the room.  This was how I apologized and said “I love you”, I always did it in letters.  I only wish my mother would have kept them all.

In the midst of this nothing, this miss of a life,
Still, there’s this one thing-just to see you go by.
It’s almost like lovin’-sad as that is.
May not be cool, but it’s so where I live.

It’s like I’m your lover-or, more like your ghost.
I spend the day wonderin’ what you do, where you go…
I try to just kick it, but then what can I do?
We’ve all got our junk, and my junk is you.

See us, winter walkin’-after a storm.
It’s chill in the wind-but it’s warm in your arms.
We stop, all snow blind-May not be true.
But we’ve all got our junk, and my junk is you.

Well, you’ll have to excuse me, I know it’s so off,
I love when you do stuff that’s rude, and so wrong.
I go up to my room, turn the stereo on,
Shoot up some you in the You of some song.

I lie back, just driftin’, and play out these scenes.
I ride on the rush-all the hopes, all the dreams…
I may be neglectin’ the things I should do.
But we’ve all got our junk, and my junk is you.

See we still keep talkin’-after you’re gone.
You’re still with me then-feels so good in my arms.
They say you go blind-maybe it’s true.
But we’ve all got our junk, and my junk is you.

It’s like, we stop time.  What can I do-
We’ve all got our junk, and my junk is you…  

Only I could miss read the church bulletin to say: “A Call for Intercourse” instead of “A Call for Intercessors.” 

Well, you are running out of tomorrows.  You need to decide.  Decide what you want, and go for it.  Stop talking about all the things you want and everything you want to do.  Stop wanting.  If this is really what you want, DO IT.  Don’t be afraid.  Don’t let those tell you that you’re making a mistake, don’t listen to them.  If you want it enough, desire it enough, believe in yourself enough, then it’s yours.  Take it.  You’re not going to fail, you can’t. You won’t allow yourself to fail.

You are ready.  You were born to do this.  This is where you are going to thrive and shine.  This is who you are.  It’s time to move on and start over.  Begin the next big adventure in your life.  You may be terrified, but you need to do this, you have to do this.

I know I’m going to lose you along the way.  I know at some point, I will fade from your mind, only to be a memory.  I’m ok with that.  If you stay, then we both fail, proving those right.  Those, those people who say it’s impossible, that you’ll never make it.  They tear you down, causing you to doubt yourself.  Don’t let them.  Don’t let them pull from your dreams.  Only you know what is best for you, and I know you want this more than anything.  You live, breath, eat and sleep it.  It’s who you are.

For once, think of yourself.

I fall into your deep brown eyes
Reach and take my hand
Come and lead me
Be my guide
Come and take me for a ride

Take me deep
But take it slow
Lead with your hands
I’m gonna follow
Where they go

Sensations on fire
A burning need
Your taste is salty
But oh, so sweet

Your eyes are gentle
Your hands, a little rough
You trace every inch of me
And I feel every touch

There’s an overwhelming passion
Of desire and lust
I move underneath
And you rise above

The intensity builds
The pressure explodes
There’s a final release
And our bodies let go

I ache with exhaustion
You pull me to your side
we’ll sleep for a while
Then I’ll take you for a ride