Revisiting Thomas

I suggest reading through the Thomas Chronicles for background information.

First installment of the Thomas Chronicles

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I dreamt about Thomas last night. I don't know why he entered my dreams but he seemed to be the constant theme through it all. It could possibly be because I had googled him the other night and found him on some reunion site. He doesn't look as good as I remember him to be. The years have crept up on him.

Through the grape vine, I've heard that he's doing well. He works. Supports all his kids. Is still married. Bought a house. He's settled! As it should be.

In my dream, he followed me everywhere. There was no escaping him. Wherever I was, there he was. I was in a library -- there he was. I was walking on the street and he was following me in a white truck. I was at a restaurant, eating with some friends, and there he was, observing me from the window. I was in the middle of the city, hand in hand with my husband and there he was following us. The crazy thing is that he wouldn't talk to me in the dream. He would observe from a distance but never confront me. It was downright creepy. Everywhere I'd turn in my dream, he'd be there staring at me.

I think my subconscious is regurgitating all these emotions because at one point in our relationship, at the tail end of it all, he began stalking me. The guilt I've felt over how I "did" him haunts me from time to time. I feel like reaching out to quail my tortured soul and perform some kind of restitution. But I think that restitution would only serve me. Me contacting an ex to apologize for bad behavior would offend my husband, would offend Thomas' wife and would only benefit me. I would be the only one able to unburden my sins.

**heavy sigh**

It's funny how dreams always seem to affect me in such an emotional way. I know that this is how my subconscious speaks to me. As I purge, I let go of my "sins" and become more and more ready to accept more of the abundance in the universe. I deserve it!

Journaling

Lately I've been doing all my writing in my personal diary. There's some kind of connection between handwriting and creativity. I seem to blossom with idea's when I hand-write in my journal. That's where all my stories and opinions have been going. I thoroughly miss BLOGGING so I'm here today, right now, in this hallowed land of words. **giggles**

I don't remember at what age I knew I loved writing. I remember in the 4th grade, my Language Arts teacher, Miss Elly Tepper, conducted a weekly journal session. It would take place right after lunch recess. She'd shut off the lights and start a meditation to calm us down to get in "the zone". For some, this exercise was challenging. Some folks didn't know how to calm down, didn't know how to be silent and sit still. For me, it was an absolute treat. What thrilled me is the power I had to write about anything I wanted to. Fiction or reality, it was all up to me. I admit that I embellished the truth a lot in those days and probably created more drama in that composition book than any 4th grader then. At the end of the exercise, we'd turn our books into Miss Tepper. She'd read the journal entries, make a few comments with her red pen, then give them back to us the following week.

My mother encouraged me from a young age to keep a daily diary. I have volumes and volumes of my journals to pass on to my posterity. It is quite an event when I pull out the journals I kept when I was a teenager. The vocabulary I used as a teenager is absolutely horrendous. I didn't curse on paper. What I'm talking about is the type of slang words and phrases that I used as a teenager. The terminology was weird and at this point in my life, I just don't find the humour or logic in my selection of slang phrases. I'm sickly amazed at the tone of my entries. I was so boy-crazy! **giggles** Even though I was such a tomboy all through grade school and the seventh grade, eighth grade found me blossoming into a young lady. My diary entries detail a school girl with a brand new crush every single day. I'm almost sure that my mother insisted I keep a journal so that she could sneak and read them to know what's going on in my world.

My childhood and teenage years were spectacular, void of any real drama. Having such a solid foundation of happiness and joy prepared me for the struggles that were ahead of me in adulthood.

Through my journals I'm able to revisit some of the darkest days of my life. That era was the post-teenage years on up until probably 30. Between 18 and 30 was an absolute challenge. Age 18, I was raped. I pressed charges and endured two trials in front of a jury of my peers. The first trial ended in a hung jury. The second trial set my attacker free. I married at age 21 and endured the most difficult heartbreak ever. The problems in that marriage started early on. Things just were never right between he and I. We were separated a couple years after marriage then finally divorced when I turned 28. My journal details every dark day and builds the anticipation for a brighter day.

I'm thoroughly convinced that my posterity will revel in the emotional narratives written into each and every page. The journal chronicling 2007 reveals a woman beginning a total-life-makeover where I had since re-married, kicked the tobacco, alcohol, etc. to prepare myself for a spiritual awakening. Awaken I did, along with my husband. It has been, by far, the most eye-opening experience EVER and I cherish it dearly.

Here I am today, my journals are less exciting, almost monotone yet filled with my most intimate thoughts and emotions. It's value is invested in the future. The ones that will benefit from my innermost feelings, my childrens childrens children, will connect with me from beyond mortality and see in to my life with perfect insight. These journals, as are these blog entries, are for my children.

Ramblings : A Days Lesson

Several days ago, a professor came to my office. I'm not quite sure what the visit was for; maybe just to chit chat, shoot the breeze, whatever. He didn't have a specific request for me nor my boss. The professor is a sculptor. He teaches in the Fine Arts department.

He began the conversation talking about Rome, Italy. Last month he went to St. Peters Basilica and was amazed at the long line of people waiting to touch the foot of a bronze statue of St. Peter. He stated that there was a placque on the figure that said that it had the power to heal any of your ailments. This professor is a very accomplished sculptor around these parts and admired the bronze figure but could not figure out the faith of the people. I was utterly engulfed in his account of his visit to the Vatican and how he was not particularly fond of Rome. He preferred Venice or Florence over Rome.

The conversation shifted, moved and changed as really good conversations do. He began to speak about the different types of chiefs and kings in Tonga. He shared that the speaking chief for a specific Tongan king in his genealogy, similar in occupation to the press secretary for the U.S. President, was of Samoan descent. This speaking chief was loved by the Tongan king because of his loyalty and his knowledge in farming and caring for the livestock. I found it quite interesting to hear stories about Tongan family history mingling with my own ancestral lines.


I have become a serious ancestral buff in recent years. I have an intense desire to dig deeper into my past. My mother is chock-full of stories about her life in Samoa. You would never guess that she came from a place without indoor plumbing, running water and other modern conveniences like a washer and dryer. Til this day, my mother insists on line-drying her clothes. In comparison to my mothers humble upbringing, I am fortunate to be here in this space, at this time with all the modern conveniences I can afford.

The greatest thing that has come from my mother, what she has passed on to me, is a sure identity of who I am. My mother and father have given me a solid foundation to build my life upon and I am truly grateful. The other day, I was watching Judge Mathis and there was a woman on there, Shelley Williams. She was obviously African American. She spoke with some sort of impediment and a strange accent. She was very condescending when speaking of black women. She said 80% of her relations with black women have been negative and she can't stand them.

Judge Mathis asked her, "Aren't you Black?"

She replied, "No. I am not Black, I'm mixed."

The Judge went on to break it down for her and explain old slave mentality in regards to color and her desire to be lily white. He told her that her desire to not be Black shows how little respect she has for herself. The episode was an eye-opener for me! She pointed out to Judge Mathis that she was getting her skin lightened. I shook my head in disbelief. How could that woman NOT love her pigmented skin?

I thought on all these things. On the statue at St. Peter's Basilica and the faith of the people. I thought about ancestral lines and my mother. At the end of the day, seeing that episode of Judge Mathis further made me realize how blessed I am to have a strong, rich heritage inherited from my parents and extended family. The gratitude for such was realized in the string of events of that day. From the conversation with the professor to the Judge Mathis episode, it all pointed to the strong heritage I have been gifted!

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Photo Credit for St. Peter
Photo Credit for Polynesian Triangle
Photo Credit for Judge Mathis

Cheers!

My cousin is getting married and she has asked me to be her matron of honor. (Me on the left, she on the right.) I'm honored! I have never been a maid of honor for anyone. Let's see, I was in my older brothers' wedding line. That was nice. Didn't really care too much about how my hair was done in that wedding. It just didn't match me. That couple is still going; 10 years and 4 kids later. Also, I was a flower girl for my moms sister. She just divorced him this year after 25 years and 6 kids. Oddly, my hair done up as a little girl was the same way they had done it for my brothers' wedding. LOL...

I don't know if there's a secret recipe to the success of a marriage. My parents are still going strong after 37 years. I should ask them how they keep it together. With my fifth anniversary just passing this past Friday and my cousin getting engaged, I'm a sentimental mess.

Diligent visitors to my blog and really close friends and family know that I've been married before. My ex-husband really put me through the biggest heartbreak I have ever experienced. Nothing could compare to that kind of pain. I've blogged about it profusely. The subject has almost become monotone. However, I have gained many learning experiences from the heartache. I have also become very much empowered to have the courage to demand what I want and need in a relationship. No one will ever "walk" all over me again. Ever!

I am so in love with my husband. I have never experienced a more loving man in my entire life. Even though we get on each others nerves because we spend so much time together, I know he has my best interests at heart. He is my best friend and most times, I rather be with him than with anyone else. The success of our marriage has got to be our shared belief in God. He and I are always headed in the same direction. We worship the same way, pray together, and help to keep each other remembering all the sacred promises we made to each other. There's no secret behind that!


All of this talk of successful marriages has been my inspiration in figuring out what to say as a toast for my cousins wedding. I know I will have to say something, at some point, at the wedding reception. I am taking this responsibility very seriously. I want my thoughts to be meaningful and something the couple will always remember. I have a few thoughts simmering in my head about this.

What are your thoughts? What's a good wedding toast?

**Photo Credit for champagne classes

5 Years of Wedded Bliss

Friday, November 14th was husband and I's 5th anniversary. I did this lil slide show cuz I was feeling a little sentimental. **sigh** Good love is always RIGHT ON TIME! I thank God for sending me this angel to make my world so beautiful!!

I Love Your Blog!

My cousin, Uilani... pronounced oooh-wee-lani... gave me the award of I Love Your Blog. So cute!

Here's the way the "Blog Awards" work:

1. Whomever I nominate get to put this same picture on their blog.

2. Link back to me on your post (it's all about getting visits to your own blog and to others).

3. Nominate 5 other blogs.

4. Link up to them.

5. Leave a message (comment) on those blogs to let them know they were nominated.


Here's a list of my 5 favorite blogs, in no particular order. (My cousin who gave me the "I Love Your Blog" is one of my faves but I already linked to her at the top of this post)

2830 -- This blog ALWAYS puts me in a very reflective mood. I feel so connected to her through her words and experiences and the range of her emotions. When I read her posts, I often think back to a similar experience of my own and get all sentimental.

Hassan -- "Blogging While Black" always keeps me thinking about the social issues that affect minorities, primarily the African-American community. I enjoy his political commentary, sarcasm and humour. He is a wordsmith. A poet. A master of lyrical imagery.

Darius Williams -- "Welcome to Life Experiences 301" is entertaining. His posts, detailing events ocurring in his life are funny and quite the conversation piece. He also has a food blog that won a Blog Award.

Me, Myself and Eye -- I love this blog though I rarely ever comment on it. I enjoy reading her perspective on life and being a voyeur, reading about the single life. It makes me so nostalgic about my single days.

Martha Is My Homegirl -- This is a fun blog. I comment on her blog from time to time. I enjoy reading it. It stays quite nicely on the positive side of things. Hallelujah for optimism!

Give Me One More High

It's been two whole years since I threw out the tobacco, put the "bottle" down, and gave up the intermittent bouts with "pakalolo". Food has semi-replaced the tobacco and that HAS NOT been good for the body but I'm pretty sure the tobacco was worse on me. The alcohol has been replaced, also, with food. The marijuana, I've replaced with my intermittent attempts at a regular exercise routine. There's just one thing I haven't been able to replace.

After high school I picked up the habit of smoking. I must say that acquiring that habit was not my greatest moment. My clothes stank, my house stank, my car stank, my hair, my breath! Everything smelt like cigarette smoke. But one thing about cigarettes that I have yet to discover is an equal replacement. Food doesn't do the trick because I just keep packing on the pounds. An equal replacement of cigarettes, namely Misty Men.thol Lights, would have to afford me the following:
1. Instant and immediate relief of stress: The first drag was a huge relief after a stressful day and the EXHALE was magic!
2. Able to keep me up when driving over an hour.
3. Able to keep the food out of my mouth.

Just give me one more night of barhopping drunkenness. Nothing can replace that feeling of being in the moment and loving every minute. I have never been more present in my life than when I was enjoying a nice tequila-buzz. In that moment, I rarely ever contemplated tomorrow and the hangover that was waiting. I didn't obsess over the drama at work or the apathy of the average citizen. Drinking afforded me my own optimism. Bottled up in a beer, concentrated in a shot glass -- Alcohol helped me be happy about living. Not to say that I'm not happy now... but alcohol was a different kind of giddyness. **sigh**

The thing I miss most, above the alcohol and tobacco is the sweet high of marijuana. What ancestor in the ancient world discovered pakalolo? Surely it is a gift from God. LOL! The way time would span out, the littlest things would send me into a rage of laughter, the secret jokes in my head... I miss that about weed.

So I beg someone, anyone -- Just give me one more high!!

Yes We Can!

I'm sure the talk of the week will be our new president-elect. This is history happening right here and right now. It's a beautiful thing. As I watched Obama give his victory speech, I was truly moved. Both husband and I shed tears of amazement. I voted for neither Obama or McCain but can TOTALLY recognize such a historic event. (I cast my vote for Bob Barr, the Libertarian candidate.)

I seen this on DL Hugley's CNN Show. How in the world did he get that gig? Anyway... I am highly irritated by it and all the negative conotations to Hawai'i.