metanoia

(n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life.

[stepnne-blog]

9 pm

It’s 9 pm and I should be asleep.

But I’ve been awakened.  By something I can’t explain.  I feel it.  I know it.  But I can’t put it into words.

What am I doing?  

I’m alive.  I wake up. I breath.  I put that smile on. I step forward.

And then back.

And then I bump into corners that I don’t see.

I didn’t know they were in my way.

Those corners can be brutal.  

Like stubbing your toe.  It hurts like hell.  Something so tiny can feel like a million bricks on your fragile body.

Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating.

But still.

My past is haunting me again.

My future is a tease.

And my present is lost somewhere.

Such a mess but I feel like I’ve got it together.

I mean, I have to have it together.  

If I don’t, that means I’m falling apart.  And I can’t fall apart.  

But if I do, that just means I can pull myself back together.

Into any shape, way or form I please.

Until I feel like a jigsaw puzzle that’s been tossed aside again.  And when the pieces come back together, there’s always that one missing piece.

That one piece that I don’t know where the f**k it is.

I feel like that one piece will always be missing.

It’s like my life mission to find it.  

I’ll be that puzzle that’s got that gaping space.

That blank spot reserved just for that piece.

The missing piece that is no where to be found.

[stepnne-blog]

You should be here

These emotions.  Feelings.  I tucked them away.  Buried them.  Celebrated that they were no more.

Until now.

I don’t miss you.  I don’t want you.

I miss what was.  I miss what could have been.  I miss who we were even though what we were was broken.

Pieces that needed to be placed back together.

But apart.  Separate. Our own identity.

I’m climbing that mountain, without you.

I’m at the peak of my life, without you.

I’m doing things that we’ve talked about, without you.

I’m dreaming the dream, without you.

But why does it hurt?  Why is the ghost of my past taunting me?  Reminding me of the highlights and lowlights.

It’s the little things.  

Smells that take me back, the clean laundry and linens that touch my skin. 

The way the light shines through the window, the shadows that dance on my wall.

How the evening smells as dusk sets and the sun slowly fades away; as if it never existed.

The exotic taste of foods, the sounds of pots and pans clanking in the kitchen.

But it’s a table set just for one.

I don’t want you.

Yet you should be here.

And that’s something I’ll never understand.

[stepnne-blog]

Coffee maker

As a grown, divorced woman I can say dating these days has definitely proven to be a challenge.

Perhaps it’s the apps I’m using but let’s face it, living in a smaller community proves it’s lack of fish in the sea.

But to that I say “challenge accepted”.

However, lately I have been finding myself feeling more empowered, confident, and driven and much less of a damsel in distress.

No, romeo.... I do not want to know where art thou.

Do I need a man to make me feel beautiful?

No.

Do I need a man to provide for me?

Hell no.

Do I need a man to give me advice when the advice was not sought out for?

No. No. No.

Coffee maker.

This is a story about how the suggestion of a coffee maker has made me less likely to be interested and more willing to continue my journey of a single woman who can choose to brew her cup of joe any way she damn pleases.

Boy responds to my snapchat post about brewing my coffee an old fashioned way through a flour sifting cloth and strainer.

Boy- “why don’t you just use a coffee maker?”

Woman (that’s me)- “because I don’t have one.  good idea though” 

(I’m trying to be polite)

Boy- “they’re only like $30″

Woman- “yha but I still like my way of using a strainer”

Boy- “coffee filter can do that if you get a good one”

Woman- ends conversation and internally shouts f**k you, I’m good... pass me a cup of strainer brewed coffee, please.

Something so petty and small is indeed a big deal because after all I’m pretty sure I can decide if I want to buy a coffee maker and I don’t need to know how much they are and who cares if a filter can do the same thing.

I’m gonna do what I want to do.  

My coffee don’t care how it’s produced.

If you don’t like how I brew my coffee, then bye Felecia.

Mind you, this is the same dude that randomly snaps me a message saying “I’m in town.  Let me know if you want to hang later” insert smirk face.

Uh, no.  I don’t want to “hang”.  

Men ask ladies out to dinner.

They provide a gentleman approach.

I’ve played the games and had my fun but now I can weed out the thorny bushes that will only hurt you in the end.

Get it, because they have thorns and they hurt.

I think I’m funny.

And yes quite full of myself too.

But guess what.... who cares!  I don't need to impress nobody.  I’m very territorial now over who enters my personal bubble.

If you can’t provide stimulating conversation other than “what’s up”, then please don’t bother.

And also, lay off the snapchat filters. 

It’s not impressive. 

It’s just weird.

[stepnne-blog]

[stepnne-blog]