Wednesday, November 21, 2012

I've relocated to wordpress

If anyone still checks this blog for new posts, needless to say I have given up on it lol..
I've relocated to: yaz-be.wordpress.com

.... trust me it's for the better. 
But for anyone who still every now and then would find themselves on this site and wonder where I am or any remotely warm genuine thoughts/concern about my whereabouts. Know that it was appreciated. I was obviously on some hard-core hiatus. Life happened. Then I said screw it, I loved this shit, it made me happy... grind it out. write till you drop baby yeaaaahh!!! or at least find cool shit online that make you happy and share it with the interweb *insert awkward guido fist-pum*... 

yeyeah! 

anyway, thank you if you still get these notifications.
Thank you to all my anonymous followers, random visitors, friends and mostly all randoms lol.. 
I'm back..

With love,

yazbe

Friday, May 18, 2012

if you must know


Well if you must know,
A good day for me starts with warm sheets... sunlight and soft music at waking
Enough peace of mind to reflect on my self, God.. and what the day will bring by the folding of my knees in a stretched prayer.
...
It is followed by good food...marinated in silence or in conversation.

If you must know...

A good day includes hearing stories from welcoming strangers and familiar faces... or from pages of books written by the gifted.
It also includes creativity in one form or another.
...
It involves wander in the form of walking or bike rides
It involves enough warmth to make my melanin glisten and enough breeze to cool a possible sweat from my brow, and a dance from my crown.
Throughout it all there is a mixture of (jazz, soul, acoustics, hip hop... kissing my earbuds)...music in mp3 format or just background noise.

A good day MUST include laughter. ... and that’s non-negotiable.

(...lol)

It must include peace and it must include warm company.



(how does it end?)
A good day ends with a snuggie. ...lol or something like it. 








....

It involves laughter maybe from watching old-reruns of favourite shows ... or streaming community, 30rock, The New Girl, How I met your mother, Vampire Diaries, Grey’s Anatomy, America’s Next Top Model...don't judge me lol... 
  ....it involves, laughing or crying upon hearing the story relating or not relating to the characters... but following the story... and understanding it. ... However deep.. however shallow.

I guess in truth it ends how it started. In reflection.. In warmth... in silence or in conversation.

Some days I wish it would end with a forehead kiss from him. Some days I don’t think about it... other days, my body chooses to close my eyes instead of my thoughts.., or vice-versa... and so somehow I ... sleep.

Some days are better than others.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Willow trees, Harbourfront, bluest skyed sundays


Last sunday I spent some time to myself. It was a sunny day that started with a prayer or two.. some silence... some tears... some writing and LOTS of walking. It was needed. I decided to take my dslr along for my stroll..






There's always something about sitting by a large body of water... howerver calm.. however busy.. howerver quiet. There's something about it that brings me peace. It makes me feel reflective. It centers me. ... I hope one day when I get old, I am privileged enough to have a home by a body of water... or at least find a way to bottle the effects of what it does to my spirit and carry that with me all days through my old age. ... lol. I think about this often.




Willow ... weep for me. 

Willow trees make me think of old age. lol. old memories.. and Pocahontas (real talk lol). I think it's because of how it hangs. ...like sagging limbs.. sagging skin..in a hunchback-like stance. it reminds me of old mothers.. 
it reminds me of wisdom acquired in due time. .... (strange)



Sometimes I forget that Toronto actually has an airport downtown. ...


My favourite thing about the picture above and the one below is the reflection of the surroundings from the monument. ... I'm not sure why. I find it so interesting ... and beautiful! lol.





Old jeans.


I can't remember the last time I rollerbladed. lol..


yes. you are seeing a mini sand area. You can pretend to be on a beach. lol... and "tan" if you're into that.

I often think that people that live in the city are not aware or fully taking in, what's available in their city. I mean I can say a little bit of the same about Calgary (until I moved away, I didn't really appreciate it as much as I think I should've) . This city (Toronto) is spoiled when it comes to scenery like this being accessible downtown.. in terms of having "arts & culture" hubs throughout it (although, they are very much under a lot of thread due to crumbling funding structures of the non-profit sector) ... it is spoiled. .. It is ugly .. it's beautiful .. not sure if I'm over it. lol.. maybe I am.. maybe not. I'm still thankful I'm here though.

One day I'll find home. I don't think it's here ... yet.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

.. (Oh!) ...the Joys of Underemployment









Everyone once in a while... a mean track finds me. It plays rough with my earbuds and my spidey sense start tingling... and I get happy in my head bop. YES. ladies and gentlemen ...  This. THIS! one is one of those.
It's a mean one guys.
Warning... if you listen to this with good headphones and good base.. you might just vomit. (YES! that's how dope this is. lol) .....



... Everything's been feeling a little off. I've been overwhelmingly busy for the past little bit.. (surprise surprise). Applying places, getting accepted to a school in Europe and then realizing that the financial cost of going may not be worth it. ... hustling.. grinding.. learning about film, videos and loving it... getting sad about it.. and somehow trusting. .. up until today, I haven't had real time to exhale, sleep in.. until now.
I think I'm going to go for a walk.. then to a film today... we'll see...

... Oh the joys of underemployment! ... 


I recently read an article on Clutch Mag about INFJ personality types called "The Angry Black Introvert" ... Thought it was interesting. I found myself relating A lot if not ENTIRELY to the feelings expressed in the article. Towards the end of the article, there was a quote that rang especially true:

" So not only should others “watch out” for us; we should be wary of ourselves. If you’re like me, biting your tongue–sometimes for years–so that you feel liked, feel loved, or are seen as easygoing and amiable rather bitter and resentful, start taking small steps toward voicing your discontent with a situation in the moment you experiencing it. Start being upfront with your family and friends about how their comment or action made you feel. Start resolving, rather than resenting.It will not be easy. And it won't happen overnight. In fact you may spend the rest of your life, working against your personality type to make significant progress. But it's necessary work, and through it, you'll find yourself feeling a more genuine serenity than the kind you've been pretending to have"

I've been biting my tongue and holding some of my feelings in (in trying to understand them).. but I'm a private person and I only share things with a selected few people. On occasion I've been known to write it out in blog form, poetry and or even journal-type of entries on notebooks and excessive sticky-notes on the walls of my room. But I haven't done any of that since my last post. 
So maybe this blog post is feelings, frustrations bubbling over. ... maybe not. ...either way. I need to approach this in a more balance way for the sake of my mental and physical health. I've also been feeling home sick. I miss my mom... and I've been wanting to be there for my brother's graduation. But I can't afford the flight to go nor can I really afford to take the unpaid leave of absence from work to do so. Student loan interests are accumulating out of my neglect to resolve an agreement with them sooner.

I am angry not at anyone in particular. ...but angry at the system. 
I just want to be happy in the company of good spirited and warmhearted people... laugh. Speak of joys and hurt and heal... speak of stories that matter and listen to dope music and good food. (maybe salmon lol).

... dammit.

ok. I'm leaving my home now.
my spirit is due for some quiet wandering.
A prayer is due... to thank God for this though. To thank him for the struggle. To thank him for what is to come... because he knows how this... my... our story ends. I'm a character among several in this narrative. I have to trust this.





Sunday, April 15, 2012

Writing it out.




they told me that writing it out can be healing,
but words don't know this dance.
they only know the dance between fingertips and keys. ... backspaces in too many spacebars.
they don't know this dance.

They don't know the dance between infatuation and love and perplexity that comes with breathing life in exhaling who we are, and inhaling peace of mind with someone in sync. They don't know how to hold hands and kiss sweetly in places, cheeks and foreheads without speaking. They don't know how to create butterflies inside heart ventricles and blood streams and convert them into timid smiles and akward laughters.

They only know how to hold fingertips and keys and let go and move on to the next one. ..for another key stoke. They only know how to move in repetitive monotonous motion.
they don't have the attention span that feelings do.

Writing is not feeling.
It is writing.

writing is only feeling in memory.
...memory is feeling.
writing is not healing.

maybe writing is memory's distant cousin in how they interact in proximity of feelings... but fall apart when feelings are gone.

...

if words knew the dance and cadences felt in the act of falling in love, then maybe they would hold their own weight in the memories I have of them in conversations I recall of him and I
but in writing this, ... the heaviness I feel is lopsided and it buldges at the sides.
It's awkward.
it is as ugly as it is beautiful
it is as salty as it is bitter
... and maybe as it should.

after all.
writing is not healing.
writing is writing.
..it is not feeling.

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