Spring Break is still going strong.
Mostly dancing and drinking, tears and giggles.
I'm relaxing like a muhfucka. I stopped by The Strand, bought some poetry books. I felt like a college freshman again with my stack of early copies of Clifton, Jordan and Troupe. I can never have too many. My fridge is an ad for Trader Joe's and the farmer's market. It does feel like it's summer break already. Yes, it's 36 degrees outside, but I'm craving fresh coconut water. And Sami's talking Cuba in July. My friend/lover from South Africa will be here in a couple days and I couldn't be more excited.
I've been thinking about being a mother a lot lately. No prospects for baby daddies, though, and really, I can't afford it. I mean, I'd work it out. I've seen so many women find a way, but why struggle? It's the one part of my life I don't want to struggle - financially - through. Still, I'm watching my niece and nephews grow, I'm watching the little kids at the daycare center explore every day, and I'm thinking why not? If I had the chance again, I think I'd be less scared. I sit and imagine calling out the names of my children: Sol for a son, Sabine for a daughter. I romanticize home-schooling them and introducing them to the world, educating them through my own practices and witnessing them grow intellectually. It's all very lovely, in my mind. Something to embrace, not worry about too much. I was tripping out over how might life might be three years from now. Three years ago, I didn't imagine this. Three years ago, I was still getting used to my roommates, I was beating myself up over my promiscuity, and I was facing very difficult historical and personal truths through an amazing course with Jane Lazarre. This - this body, this voice, this job, this apartment, this way I love - is still surreal to me, sometimes. But, somehow, being a mother becomes more and more tangible.
Anyway, the rest of my break awaits.