Saturday, December 11

Love is?

I have been reading a lot of Pablo Neruda's poetry lately.
And I gotta say... If love could be quantified into just poetry, it would be this man's genius.

Wiki this man.

Enjoy one poem below.


by Pablo Neruda

I have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.

When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.

And when you appear
All the rivers sound
In my body, bells
Shake the sky,
And a hymn fills the world.

Only you and I,
Only you and I, my love,
Listen to me.


Yo te he nombrado reina.
Hay más altas que tú, más altas.
Hay más puras que tú, más puras.
Hay más bellas que tú, hay más bellas.
Pero tú eres la reina.

Cuando vas por las calles
nadie te reconoce.
Nadie ve tu corona de cristal, nadie mira
la alfombra de oro rojo
que pisas donde pasas,
la alfombra que no existe.

Y cuando asomas
suenan todos los ríos
en mi cuerpo, sacuden
el cielo las campanas,
y un himno llena el mundo.

Sólo tú y yo,
sólo tú y yo, amor mío,
lo escuchamos.

Wednesday, December 8

Do you speak my language?

Having a daily chat with my good friend, JS, I think we found a way of describing what we want from men.

Are you reading this?
We want you to speak
our language.

Each woman has her own specific language.

(JS has her own. I have mine. We each do.)
It's not just her native tongue.
(English, Spanish, etc.)

I'm talking about... you gotta translate my specific form of crazy.
And make it fluent.

You gotta take all that PMS and morning talk and whatever it is that I like versus what I hate and make ALL OF THAT SH*T into a freakin' symphony.

Become my male Annie Sullivan.
I personally think that everything I say makes total and utter sense.
This is obviously not the case.

Otherwise, I would be G-D or the President or what have you.
I realize that I am not any of those things.

BUT... I deserve you to at least try to understand what I want versus what I need.

Don't tell me that because you're a dude that you don't speak my language and that you never will.

DUDE! If I like you... I can tell you NOW that I try my best to understand you.
To put myself in your shoes.
To listen to your gripes and B.S.
And try to give you the honest, nice, loyal answer in my lexicon, boo-boo.

But I highly doubt that you do the same for me.

I've had 2 triflin' MEN in the past 2 months think that they understand me.
And believe me... I'm being modest. I'm HOT shit, but my vag ain't made of gold. Ya dig?

But the problem is... I understand these men's languages.
I figured them out, and frankly, both of them kept translating to:


I am sick of those smoke signals. They only lead to more fire, and other problems.

For the man out there that does want to get to know me...
Trust me, that's the 1st page in the Fluency book, free of charge.

~Feisty Actress


ding. ding. ding.

In this corner:
the champion, THE GRANDMA.
  • doesn't support your career choice.
  • thought that you were a lesbian... and probably still thinks it... because you don't have a boyfriend or husband.
  • has friends that call you a HEATHEN, because you don't go to church.
  • uses your other family members to guilt trip you into calling her.
  • after you've called her, she just wants to tell you that she's lonely... despite there being 5 or more people over her house keeping her company.
In this corner:
the challenger, YOU & YOUR EGO.
  • confidently devoted to your career and life choices.
  • loving, caring individual, who calls their parents & siblings whenever they can.
  • goes to visit your grandmother, which is almost every other week, only to be ignored once you get there.
  • doesn't like to be called names or pushed into awkward situations by nosy old ladies.
  • supportive human to most of the family decisions and personal cheerleader of the general well being of the family as a whole.
Granted. No person is a saint.
I certainly am not one.
I cuss. I love violence (in films). I lie (sometimes). I have cheated (on a test).

And believe me, I love my grandmas.
(I still have both of them. Mother's side and Father's side.)

But sometimes... and you all know those times...

all you wanna do is SHAKE A GRANNY!

I get it. They're old. They're obstinate.
But they're not the only ones with feelings.
Respect your elders, and all that mess.
But OUFFF! Old people can be wrong too.

Does your grandma or grandpa drive you nuts?


singin' to myself... singin' to myself...
T.I. song...
singin' to myself...

Hello, attractive Black gentleman!!!

How are you doing? Yeah... it is cold.

Yes, as you can see, I am lugging a lot of stuff from TARGET to my apartment.
No, you may NOT have my phone number. But thanks for asking....

Huh?? Why are you cussin' at me now??

I would be more inclined to give you my phone number if you were to hold a bag or 2 or 3 or 4. Can't you see that I'm in need of assistance??

I looked fine enough for you before I said NO! to your phone number question. Maybe if you did something that deserved compensation, I'd give you something.

Every dog gets a treat for a trick.