Black Widow

My hand brushes your forehead and lingers there, while the whispers coming out of my mouth start to weave themselves around you. Not what you expected, is it? You smile and your eyes light up, finally reflecting the longings you've been suppressing.
You've just been hit.
Neglected for so long, this secret spot in you is demanding reparation. But don't you worry my boy. Nurture is my pleasure. You won't go hungry for much longer. I'll give you what need if you just listen carefully.
Good boy.
And you thought you were chasing...
Your hunger brought you straight to me but baby, you're in for something different. Something you didn't suspect existed. Something you never knew you needed. But you do.
They all do.
One touch was enough for you to fall in this trap. Self-hypnosis alone could help you escape the web around you, for as I look straight into your eyes, there is no hiding. Listen to my body. This is the loving care you've been craving. Someone to truly see you and connect.
Look into my eyes.
Say it again, this is what you want.
Before you know it, our bodies are intertwined and your lips can't get enough of my kisses. The weight of your body up on mine delivers me from myself, and I can't remember if I'm in for the giving or the taking.
No empty words.
True physical dialogue.
Through this tear in my being I'm taking you all in. Forget about what caused it; you needed this more than anything. Freed from yourself and filled with love, let my addiction be your salvation tonight... if you can take it.

Was it all a dream or did we bond with incredible passion, you'll ask me later. Yes, what we shared was more than sex, though it was nothing but a moment. A need I had to quench.
Why take it further?
I must warn you,
I take no prisoners.

Sinead. My Hero.

Given the recent sex scandals which have been rocking the Vatican lately, I thought now would be a good time to post the infamous video of Sinead O'Connor performing Bob Marley's War at SNL back in 1992. Sinead ended her performance by holding a picture of the Pope, tearing it into pieces, and then saying "Fight the real enemy!" Shock and outrage were to follow. This actually caused so much controversy that, even (or especially?) in the land where Freedom of Speech is supposed to reign supreme, censorship prevailed. Censorship was so strong that today, a lot of people I know have never heard of this "incident."

Sinead ripping the Pope is all they saw. They did not see or hear her denouncing of the child sexual abuse and the cover up going on in the Catholic Church at the time. The picture of the Pope was merely used a s symbol of the Vatican.

War - Sinéad O'CONNOR ( a cappella) on TV in 1992
Uploaded by Petite-Pince-Sans-Rire. - See the latest featured music videos.

Now people may not agree with Sinead's ways, it was, as she called it herself later a "ridiculous act, the gesture of a girl rebel." Indeed, such shocking acts usually elicit anger and an unwillingness to try and understand the person who performed them. Unfortunately, this seems to be extremely true in the U.S. It is such a shame that when people are shocked and/or offended, they choose to censor and bury their heads in the sand. In this day and age, how can people still think that ignorance is bliss?

However shocked people were, I hope that, in light of what is being unveiled about sexual scandals in the Church right now (which is actually nothing new, but should not be any less shocking), people can now see her message clearly and truly appreciate her courage.

Here is short documentary about the true signification of her gesture.

It's good to see that 18 years later, being a Priest, the fire within Sinead has not died. She recently said in the Irish Independent : "A true Christian is someone who, in any given situation, is supposed to ask themselves what would Jesus do, then try to do that. How an organisation which has acted, decade after decade, only to protect its business interests above the interests of children can feel it has the right to dictate to us what Christians should do is beyond belief.

"From the Pope on down, through the Vatican and therefore through the lower echelons, the whole organisation, in my belief, is utterly anti-Christian and evil, as proven by centuries of torture, bloodshed, burnings, terrorism, and coverings-up of 'the worst crime' known to man.

"And if Jesus Christ is to be seen in the vulnerable of this world, then all the church has done is crucify the man over and over and over again. If Christ was here, he would be burning down the Vatican. And I for one would be helping him."

I am not a christian but I do admire how true to her beliefs she is and how courageous she has always been. I also do believe that she and I share some fundamental values. And when I see what is going on in Uganda, where the problem is not child abuse but homosexuality, her message resounds all the more deeply in my heart. There is nothing more infuriating than religious hypocrisy (such as Scott Lively's). Spreading hatred in the name of so-called love is definitely not alright.

See also Joe.My.God and The Gospel According to Hate

Forgive and Forget

Today, one of my friends' facebook status said that she can't forgive AND forget, that she will pick one. While she is known for her witty updates, I found this one to have a fundamental truth underneath its humorous surface. I was going to leave a comment on her profile. Sure, you can't actually forget because amnesia never helped any of us learn lessons from life; the answer was very simple to me. Then I thought some more and realized that what I had to say would probably not fit in that little box.

I've always thought about forgiving and forgetting in very simple terms; a very simple mathematical equation, an implacable logic. Someone tries to harm you. You decide to forgive them because human relationships are indispensable anyway, but you remember. If you forget (which never actually happens unless you black out), you won't be prepared when the same thing is about to happen again.
I was always a forgiver, but not a forgetter; it was only a matter of choice.

But something happened that made me wonder... When dealing with hurt feelings, how much of a choice do you really have?

The dictionary says that forgiving is to "stop feeling angry or resentful toward someone for (an offense, flaw, or mistake)." I used to believe that forgiving was a conscious act made by a person, when actually, the three magic words only mean that you are willing to see beyond the offense. But how do you consciously stop feeling angry or resentful?

If only time can heal, then wouldn't it be wise to say that only time can (make you) forgive?

Someone who had harmed me in the past did something today that seemed quite inoffensive at first but revived the harm which had been done in the past. This can only mean two things:  either my forgiveness is temporary, or my body had forgotten the hurt for a while, leading to a fake, reluctant forgiveness. And it was quick to remember!
If we never truly forget, is it possible to fully forgive? Can we actually go further than deciding we are willing to go beyond the hurt?

What is interesting it that both forgetting (or rather not remembering as vividly) and forgiving seem to be processes over which we have very little control. We can't consciously do either of them (without therapy, that is). Surely what matters most is the choice we make to move on, with or without that person.

Waking up

The sun is out, finally. Gently warming up my body, and fiercely attacking the thick coat of snow that has been piling up in the last few months. The snow is doing its best to resist but has already lost quite a few battles. Soon enough, it will be gone, revealing a numb scenery, one that has been sleeping, patiently waiting to bloom. Slowly but surely, nature is waking up. 

Is there any reason why I shouldn't? I have been hibernating, taking in a lot of things, but not creating any. When did I last drop a few lines here?

I have been active, though. As a matter of fact I have been swamped with work. This last semester at KSU has not been as calm as I had anticipated. Lots of reading, lots of thinking, and lots of writing.  Then there was also this Mariah Carey concert in Columbus for my birthday (which I can thank my soon-to-be ex-wife for!!), that Ladysmith Black Mambazo concert in Akron with Tiffy, and a few social outings with friends from Ohio. No, really, I haven't been sleeping that much.. But I have been hibernating.

So really, it's time for me to wake up and .... update!

Insomnia

I cannot see you when I speak
or hear you when my eyes are open.
Maybe it's something that I always sensed

Your dolls close their eyes when you put them to sleep,
Sinking into automatic darkness
Yet it's the blindness of my eyes that makes me see,
Forcing a sudden awareness

My heart starts to open
And my soul starts to bleed.
Both long for your wise innocence

If I listen close enough, I can hear it.
The empty melody of my own words
- or maybe yours -
Trying to shine a light.
But I fail to fully comprehend. And I fall.
I think I'm lost...
That nothing can change this
Lost
Crying
Lost
Nothing

You are nothing
Then yes...
Nothing can change this

I only see you when I'm half asleep
or feel you when my heart is broken

Though I never asked for this,
Here you come again
And again


It's just a neurosis,
Feeding on itself.

Reading, Feeling

The more I read, the more I'm touched by words, or so it seems. I'm not sure whether this kind of empathy develops with practice or with age, but I can't feel detached anymore. More and more, I find myself genuinely feeling and hearing the voices others put on paper.

I cried my eyes out with E. Lynn Harris, got so enraged I was ready for war with Achebe, felt a sweet melancholy with Sagan, and now Uwem Akpan. "Say you're one of them" literally broke my heart. All throughout the book I felt restless, helpless, and extremely emotional. When I read the last page last night I simply could not take it anymore. I tried to read those emotions away with an old Sagan but it  was all in vain. I could still see their faces, taste their blood, and feel their pain. Their voices still resounding deep inside of me.

I guess I have to be careful what I read now...

Soldier of Love

After 10 years of waiting, a dream is finally coming true. Sade's new album is scheduled to drop on February 8th. 

It's hard to describe what Sade's music mean to me.

She's always been one of my mom's all time favorite singers, and so she'd play her tapes on my dad's old boombox for hours on end. It didn't matter whether she was cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, or simply trying to take nap, Sade was there, singing ... being a part of the family.

It's not difficult describing the music you grow up with, but it is extremely difficult finding words to express the feelings behind the music you grow up on; the one that shapes you in your early years, the one that speaks to you throughout your entire life, the one that is there whenever you go - and grow - through something that affects you deeply.

There is a sort of unbreakable bond between you and that music. After becoming such a part of you, it's almost as if the music is an extension of yourself.

The music is you.

That's what Sade's music means to me.

----- UPDATED. Soldier of Love Video

America's Best Christian

In addition to being America's best christian - because, let's face it, she is "more conservative than Jesus" - Betty Bowers' sense of humor and parody is priceless.

Everyone should check out her messages on her website, including this video, in which she explains what constitutes a biblical marriage.

Pay It Forward

Sometimes working hard feels like doing coke. The more work they give you, the more energized you feel. Spending less (or no) time in bed, eating less, and drinking more coffee rarely has the effect you would expect on your body... and the withdrawal leaves you completely disoriented. A holiday? What is that?
Good thing that being high on work is a habit that is quite easy to break.
Now that I can take a few moments away from teaching, grading, translating, or localizing, I can finally update this blog, which is slightly overdue.

Last week, I received a package from Botswana, which I had been expecting but had actually completely forgotten about. In that package were gifts from Lauri Kubuitsile, a Motswana writer whose blog I read daily. This is all part of "Pay it Forward". I am not sure who started this , and how many people it has reached so far, but here is the principle:
Each person who receives a gift sends gifts to three other people. It's not about owing something to someone, but a nice way of passing on your generosity. So now that I received those gifts from Lauri, it is my turn to "Pay it Forward."

If you are interested in being one of the people I will send gifts to, let me know (by leaving a comment here, a message on facebook, or by shooting me an email).
But keep in mind that I have the budget of a grad student. :-)

Roots

You say you've started seeing somebody, that you are quite happy with the way your relationship is shaping. You tell me about all the cute things you want to do for him, and I listen.
That's wonderful, I say.
I know I should be happy for you. I think I am, actually. At least a part of me is, but...
I've gotten used to our intimacy. I like you.
We're not a couple and we're not just friends. But I was happy with our gray area. Does it always have to be black or white, friends or lovers?
I don't know if I can entrust my happiness and well-being to one person. It seems that instead I've chosen to lay my foundation somewhere else. So that I can be more stable, so that I can stand, I have been slowly growing my roots into different shades of gray.
Your heart.

Their hearts.

Mine needs it.
Today you've sent us back to the o so proper dichotomy.
You sever our link using the sharp end of your words, and suddenly my heart loses its balance.
I know I won't fall,

But it hurts.