Always here

The picture above is of Buarl and I in Daytona Beach probably walking the pier or along the boardwalk. I was maybe 2 or 3 and people joke that I am looking at the camera with my bratty grin saying, “haha I’m getting what I want, look who’s got me now!” Buarl always gave me what I want. He came over to my family’s house almost every night for dinner. If I didn’t like what we were having he’d always take me to McDonald’s after I “ate”. If I wanted ice cream he’d take me out to the Sweet Shoppe. If I wanted to swing he’d take me to the park. We’d go out to the fair and he’d let me run. A lot of what we did together had to do with food, because quite frankly we both enjoyed eating. When I was little I can remember sitting on the porch in the summer time feeling the “breeze”. He’d always sit in the rocker chair and lean way back. Every once in a while he’d let out a “weeeee,” although he was never going anywhere. He’d talk to everyone that walked by. He told stories, some true, some not, you never really knew.

Buarl never asked for much. Actually, I don’t think he ever asked for anything more than to fill up his glass of tea. My car would break down and I would call Buarl. I needed a couch for my first apartment. I called Buarl. Buarl was always there for me. He cherished my family with memories we will never forget. Twenty-two years of family vacations to Florida-some of the best times my family has ever had. Buarl was a selfless man and never let another go hungry if he had anything to do with it. For years I’ve been trying to describe success. Thinking success had everything to do with me and what I achieve in life. Today I learned success is what you do for others’ lives and the impact you leave behind. I love you Buarl. You truly were and still are an angel among us.

Hopeless

Betrayed, deserted, hungry, and alone you find your way the best you know. You once loved, but you were left. You gambled with your dreams, yet they were defeated. You built beautiful houses, though let yours crumble to pieces.

On My Way

In the creation of my blog I was struggling with being consistent, dwelling on the past, and moving forward with my future. I was focused on the things I didn’t have and I created a little plan to help bring the faith alive in my life and to be happy with the small things. I made it a point to run every morning, to eat healthier, to meditate, and to write(shown Here,Here, and Here. These daily goals allowed me to realize all that matters in life is the present moment.

Nine months later, a term long enough for the creation of a human being, I would say that I have learned more about myself than I have in the last 5 years. I have a sense of direction of where I want to be, who I want to be, and what I want to do. All of the wrinkles haven’t been exactly pressed, but that’s when life happens.

I’ve always been a goal setter, so I’m going to set some goals for myself for the rest of the year:

1. Lose inches. I say lose inches because weight really doesn’t matter. I just want to feel good in my leggings and jeans this fall. As you can tell I love fall fashion so much that it’s a great motivator for me to feel good about myself on the outside as much as I do on the inside, hence Faith and Fashion 🙂

2. Write more, write freely, express myself. I’m almost finished with Tropic of Cancer and it has changed my life. Miller’s writing style is like no other; poetic almost. He says when he writes he doesn’t over analyze it. He doesn’t go over it and try to make it sound better. He just writes how it is. There’s so much I want to say or write, but I am always censoring myself. I want to stop the censor. Like this little number I wrote here.

3. Blog. I want to blog more, use more personal pictures and really amp my site. The end.

4. Be my best. I really just want to focus these last 3 months and give it all I’ve got. I want to workout, work hard, play hard, and just be the best person I can possibly be.

Soar

The world is a whisper. My heart aches for more; more understanding, more fear, more lust, more desire. There’s much to discover, but I am but a bird caught as this old lady’s prisoner. This cage is too small, too hot, and reeks of my own shit. Hung in a dark corner, forgotten, and abandon my cage awaits for the rust to cut it like a knife.

My wings, shiny, bright, and yellow; fluffed and ready. But this lady is isolated. She’s grown used to my beautiful breast and my glorious morning hymns. I am only a burden. A chore. Her own misery cannot escape my existence. She cannot see that I, too, need companionship and adventure-to open my wings and feel the release of flight.

She is buried under mounds of old newspaper, dirty coffee mugs, and musk. The cats are screaming, licking dirty plates and taunting me with their eyes. Waiting I am for the moment their bellies are eating their insides. Waiting for their curious minds to pick my latch. They do not sense my readiness, my desire, or my need. They can only feel the crumbs from their last meal. Patiently I am perched planning my escape to fly out the kitchen window, spread my wings and soar.

By: me

All I Need

traveling….. sipping….. smiling… wondering.. relaxing….. packing. joking… kissing……… disappearing. hoping.. longing…. gazing. laughing… daring. watching.

wishing………………

Photos from www.wmagazine.com