This is an example of some of the outrageous taste tests I have been capturing! hehe

Social Media Breakfast Toledo #3

Yes, it is time folks... The hair has got to go. I am not saying exactly when, but it is within a week that I will be chopping off my hair and donating it to make wigs for cancer patients. So to everyone that has ever said "If you ever cut your hair, I will kill you." I put up one hell of a fight. *still kicking* I will be taking lots of pictures and posting them eventually so I won't get the whole "What did you do to your hair?!?" question every time I run into someone. I will let everyone know when they are posted because eventually I might just fuck around and hit a bitch when shit be poppin off... :) or something like that.

love y'all!

The SCL

The big night is tomorrow. I know, Im being silly. I have done these things a million times in front of probably millions of people. And I realize and think that this is why I love this stuff so much. This whole slam poetry thing, it will never bore me. I will always be on my toes trying to write that perfect line, that astonishing poem... the thing that will change things. hehe:) I know, silly. But, it keeps me happy. My feature will be over at 10 PM tomorrow night, that's when vacation starts.That's when I will either love poetry all over again, or treat it like an unfaithful husband. But alas, I will always be that wife that will take my Mr.Poetry back. I just love him too much to let him go I suppose. ugh... poetry. I hate to love it,but I can't help myself.

Wish me luck.

Not too long ago, a man tried to rape me. He wasn't a stranger, he was a man I knew very very well. I never expected this from him. He tried to take advantage of me, he got me stupid and put his hands all over my life. I wasn't scared because I was blind to what was going on. And then one day, as if something as cliche as a blindfold being lifted, I saw what he was doing. He was raping me. He was raping my soul, my life, my intelligence, my future, my friendship. Now, I am not pointing fingers. Because in situations like these, who is to blame? A rapist? or the person who never protested to the raping at all. all I know is that it is over. And instead of feeling ashamed or secretive, I am relieved... and maybe eventually I will be made love to. Then, and only then, I think I will be able to make love back.

And then again this could all just be some metaphor that a poet makes up in her free time.

I went back to work today. It was OK, I am still a little week from being off my feet for so long, but that is expected. I am writing a lot more poetry lately. I have gotten into a very reflective part of my life where I am washing out all toxins. I am eating healthy, quit smoking, and weeding through the people I do and do not want to know. My poetry is obviously showing a change in me, whether it be style or just I don't know, the shit I write about. I dunno, it is fun for the outgoing social girl to kinda fade into the background and just observe others every now and again. I think it makes my poetry a lot less selfish.

So, last night I ended up going to the ER. My temperature was over 104 degrees and I was starting to act really bizarre. I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was going to lose my hearing, or something really bad was going to happen... I know, I know, dramatic as always. They pretty much called it a viral infection AKA nothing they can do about it infection. So now I am stuck at home, no working, no progressing. Just sitting here. And is it normal that the guy your are dating leaves cursing at you every time? He is being an ass, I suppose I should expect it. Whenever the attention is on me he seems to still be able to bring the spotlight to him. I just don't know any more. I am sick. Real sick. But as all things, this too shall pass.