The Audacity of Guilt

Barack Obama’s first book is, “Dreams from My Father” and his second book is “The Audacity of Hope”.

It’s ironic that the books of my life are, “Nightmares from My Mother” and “The Audacity of Guilt.” as I wonder why still casually, effortlessly, guised words are used to caress me with guilt. I know now, the guilt does not belong to me.

I cannot accept “your” Guilt - for living “my” Life.

I don’t know where your fear comes from, but I see it now when I hear your words. The fear comes out of you, tangled in your words aimed at my soul. I hear with my heart which is guarded now, so my soul can laugh at the vain attempts of your fear to get in.

I see now, your fear wants to come through and control me. I thought before, you wanted to control me through fear.

Martin Luther King Jr. said,
“Forgiveness is not an occasional act; it is a permanent attitude.”






I forgive the fear in you...

Replacing My Best Friend "B"

The Replacement: Cheeseburger, Small Fries and a Small Diet Coke

I miss my Best Friend "B" and this is the only thing that makes me feel as good as his comforting words. This is where I go when I need comfort and I don't have my Best Friend "B" to turn to.

The reality is, that my best friend has a girlfriend now. (but I knew him first!) Some say it is possible for a girl and a boy to be "Just Friends", but I'm not so sure...yet. Others say, as long as I know and understand his intentions for our friendship, I should be fine. What good is it to know his intentions when I don't know my own?

So until I can sort out my own intentions for my Best Friend "B", I've decided to turn to my replacement, Mc"D". The reality is, this cheeseburger, had buns that were mushy and smelled a little strange...I never had that problem with my best friend "B".

I hope to find my replacement Mc"D" waiting for me in Paris when I'm in need. I just hope with better buns...

A Nice Note in French

This morning I woke to receive a sweet email note from a French friend in Paris.

He writes:...

------Original Message------

From: Pierre
To: Florence
Sent: Jun 3, 2009 2:56 AM
Subject: Hello

Belle Florence, Bonjour,

Je suis trés heureux que vous reveniez sur Paris.
Contactez-moi pour votre arrivée.
Je vous embrasserai sur les levres.

Pierre

----------------

He says: "Beautiful Florence, Hello,
I am very happy that you will return to Paris.
Contact me when you arrive.
I embrace your arms.
Pierre"

Yesterday I learned from my French Instructor, Alain (visit his site at: http://www.frenchinthesprings.com/ , how to say:

"I will be there on 11 June at 10AM. Will you be there?"

So, I will write back:....

Bonjour Pierre,

Je serai la le 11 Juin 1000.
Vous serex la?

Florence

My French is improving...

U.S. Check Stand Interrogation

Lately I have been feeling irritated after making simple purchases at grocery stores or department store check stands. Today I realized the reason why as I reached the last straw during the Checkout Stand Interrogation (CSI). CSI happens to me all the time, and there’s only so much a girl can take. Every single time I reach the check out cashier, the interrogation begins:

1. How are you doing today? (not bad) I can handle this one…but it continues…
2. Did you find everything you were looking for? (yes)
3. Would you like to keep these items on the hanger? (no)
4. Would you like paper or plastic? (plastic)
5. Will you be paying with our store credit card? (no)
6. Would you like to save 10% on your purchase? (no thanks)
7. Will you be paying with another credit card or cash? (credit card)
8. Which card will you be using today? Visa or Mastercard? (Visa)
9. Will you use that as a debit or credit card? (debit…damn-it…uh, excuse me)
10. Would you like to donate to the Children’s Hospital Fund today? (not today)

And then the payment machine starts in with the interrogation:
11. Will you please enter your pin number? (xxxx)
12. Would you like to continue or cancel? (continue…duh!?)
13. Is this total correct? Yes or No. (you’re the #$%@ computer, you should know)
14. Would you like the full amount debited from your card? (yes…where else?)
15. Would you like cash back? Yes or No. (yes)
16. How much would you like? ($20.00)
17. Would you like a receipt? (please don’t ask me another %$#@ question)

So the machine stops but the cashier interrogation continues…and I just want to take my stuff and run…
18. Would you like help out today? (leave me alone.)
19. Would you like the receipt with you or in the bag? (I don’t care.)

And today, I was asked one new question…the final question that has completely pushed me over the edge with Check Stand Interrogation. I cannot take this anymore...
20. Would you like a coupon?

Yes, that question caused my brain to short circuit and freeze up right there at the checkout. I couldn’t answer yes or no. I could only look at the cashier in a frozen daze as she actually waited for a response. I was afraid to answer, would there be more questions? I felt the customers behind me waiting for me to move. It was like everything happened in slow motion. She pulled the receipt out of the register with an extra piece of paper that I think was the coupon. The whole time, she kept her eyes on me, waiting for a repsonse.
She put the paper in my hand and as I closed my hand on the two pieces of paper, she slid the second piece of paper out of my grasp and I walked away…without the coupon, irritated.

The last time I was in Paris shopping, check out was simple, no interrogation: Bonjour, when I approached and a "look" that the transion was complete and I could walk away. I think I will be happy to shop in Paris....next week!

A Nice Looking Man

Yesterday, I was waiting in the lobby of the bank looking at the guest computer screen in front of me, but from the side, I could see outside, the figure of a tall thin brotha’ walking a confident walk approaching the entry. I smiled inside and thought, hmmm, now that’s a nice looking man, but it was just from my peripheral vision, so I thought again, yeah, but I bet he’s not so great looking up close.

He walked in and as I turned to look at him straight on, I couldn’t dare look into his eyes, so I started at his feet. Tan and brown colored snake skin boots. I liked it; I looked again and the gold thin metal tip around the toe of his boots winked at me; they made me smile; dark denim pants touched the boots, crisp with a sharp crease that my eye followed up his legs, nice; black leather belt; not missing a single loop; hmmm, uh, nice... as he weaves though the cordoned area, first towards me, then away…nice package both ways, I like it... I wonder if anyone notices me checkin’ him out? I can’t stop now, Cream colored shirt, neatly tucked in, no pot belly, dark chocolate arms, strong arms, short sleeves.

Already he’s at the teller’s window. It’s as if the bank was expecting him as he breezed in through the doors, his confident stride not missing a step, no waiting in lines, a few long strides and he was at the window being served.

Staring at his profile, nice nose, neat low cut hair, smooth skin and to top it all off…a black leather apple-jack hat! Sitting perfectly on his head, as if he measured the placement. Right-on! Right-on brotha! Then, as soon as my assessment of the asset was complete, as if icing was even needed on this cake, it comes swirling around me. His scent. That soothing, soft masculine scent that makes me want to nuzzle his neck as he puts those strong arms around me. His scent came to hug me as it filled the lobby. I heard wind chimes as his scent whirled around me. I smiled basking in it all, in a trance fixed on his profile standing there at the teller window. I thought, now that’s the kind of man I want in my life, confident, nice looking and smells good…

“Excuse me Florence?, Excuse me ma’am?, Miss?…., Excuse me ma’am…May I help you?” I only heard the wind chimes in my mind. Then in a flash, Wrinkled white shirt, wrinkled khaki pants…no crease, brown belt…pale hairy arms…Bam! Right there…in front of my face…”Excuse me Florence, Thank you for your patience…..” Nice smile...and just like that, it was over. Seirge, the Personal Banker from Russia, blocks my view. What happened?! The cologne that was hugging me ran away and the wind chimes were silent.

I followed Seirge to his desk and as I stood, I looked around for the tall nice looking brotha in the leather apple-jack hat, with the snake skin boots, but he was gone.

I sat with Seirge, the Personal Banker from Russia and we made a wire transfer deposit in Euros for my apartment in Paris.

Venomous Words

There are people in this world who smile a friendly smile and laugh a laughable laugh as words come from their lips, but their words drip with venom. They don’t even seem to taste it, but it’s there, dripping from the front, side and sometimes hidden on the back of their words.

Their words come from a dark and cold place inside, like a heart that’s so hard and cold the words cannot find warmth before the tongue spews them out between the laughter and the smiles.

In their words, I know there is no Love. The words are sharp, but appear soft. I must be careful not to let them pierce through my heart and scrape my soul. I must protect my heart and guard my soul.

I know that if I don’t, my heart too will become bruised, pierced and aching. Without the protection of Love within, my heart will become battered, dark and cold. I cannot see this, and I will not know if it happens to me, I will only feel the emptiness of Love gone away.

The instructions given to me today:
“Guard your heart and your soul too will be protected. Fill your heart with Love, and the words that come from your mouth will be soothing to the soul.”

The Illusion of Oz

The Wizard of Oz

You were scary like the Wizard...The Wizard of Oz. But in reality, he was just a scared old man hiding behind a curtain, controlling everyone through fear and illusions.

The Wizard Exposed

I admit that I felt powerless and afraid when I was near you but now I have seen behind the curtain. I see that in reality, you too are powerless and afraid. I see the smoke and mirrors with the loud voice amplifier you used to scare and control me is exposed and falling apart now. I see the switches you use to turn words against me, I see the little light bulbs that were not really the True Source of Light - I see the Truth now.

It was all an illusion that I have feared.

I am not afraid to follow my Dream to Paris. I am not afraid to leave this place controlled by the "Illusion of Oz".