MOVA Speech 06/24/2021

 This Morning, I had the honor of being a featured speaker at MOVA (Mass Office of Victim Assistance) For National Gun Violence Month. As it was not recorded or streamed, I'm posting my speech for my Mum Sara-Elisebeth Finley who is unable to attend zooms and webinars, due to profound hearing loss

Good Morning. My name is Lisa Robinson. I live in Mattapan, Massachusetts, having returned here in March of 2017; after living in Columbia, South Carolina for 9 years.

I am a mother, a grandmother, a longtime community activist and volunteer, a writer and a podcaster. Sadly, as of the morning of June 13, 2014.. I am also known as the mother of a murdered child.

My daughter Aja Dawn Robinson was born on February 9, 1991. For all of her younger years, she was just an itty bitty thing. I called her my bony macaroni. She was always very much on the verge of failure to thrive size wise, although you couldn’t tell by her appetite!

By the time she had turned 23, Aja was a beautiful, vivacious young woman. She was quite literally living her best life. She was working 2 jobs that she loved, she was surrounded by an abundance of friends who absolutely adored her, she had a small Goddaughter that she was in love with, she had just gotten her first car and she was happily shopping and preparing to move into her very first apartment. Life was wonderful in Aja’s world.

All of these dreams were shattered in the early morning hours of Friday, June 13, 2014, when she was followed as she left her boyfriend's house and was heading to work. When she pulled over to speak to the person from her past, she was shot and killed. He then died by suicide.

A few months after Aja’s death, I created Angels For Aja. I use this platform to share Aja’s story and to do my part to spread awareness about the distressing numbers of men, women and children who are killed and injured each year in acts of domestic violence. I’m speaking out because I do not want another loved one to ever have to feel this pain again. Our communities have lost too many already.

We need to pass common sense gun laws. Across the board. Across the US. No grey areas, no grey states or cities. It’s not too much to ask. Lets think about it this way. You would have to wait a lot less time to purchase and take home a gun legally, than it would take me to wait to go pick up and bring home my deceased child in her new Urn. Or to then have to stop and pick up her final possessions from the Police Department.

Thank You for Having Me here today.

June 8, 2015

June 8, 2015

I have finally reached the week that I have been dreading for the last few months…the week approaching the 1 year marker of Aja’s murder.  It still hurts to connect that word to Aja.  Murder.  It doesn’t feel right.  Murder is harsh.  Ugly.  Aja wasn’t any of those things.  She was a gentle being.  A free spirit.  My black butterfly.  Just like the Deniece Williams song *Black Butterfly*

“Now you’re free, and the world has come to see….Just how proud and beautiful you are”

Rationally, I can tell myself that I will simply put one foot in front of the other and get through that day much the same as I have gotten through every other painful day.   But man, when I tell you…EVERY fiber of my being is crying out, every beat of my heart wants to be the last beat. I close my eyes to shelter myself from the images in my head, but they just become more vivid.  I block my ears, but I can’t stop hearing Aja crying out for me. 

I think about and already miss the grandbabies that will never be born of Aja, or the husband she will never marry, the college she will never graduate from, the first house she will never get a chance to celebrate.  I think about the holidays that I will never have a chance to celebrate with her and her family, or the visits I will never get to look forward to as I get older..eagerly looking forward to having ALL of my children together with me for the holidays.  

I will still eagerly look forward to seeing my son, daughter and grandchildren; but there will always be a piece of me that keeps glancing at the door, praying that this nightmare will finally come to an end and she will come bopping through the door, arms bursting because she was carrying way too much of everything, ( because she always went overboard with gifts and decorations on holidays).. *hey Mummyyyyy!!!!  I missed you so much!!!* with that sweet smile that lit up a room.  

I miss the girly giggles between Aja, Michelle and Mani late at night.  The relentless teasing poor Aaron had to put up with from his sisters, and even worse if Kia , Jauhara and April were there too!  I miss Aja climbing her big adult self up into my bed to snuggle with me; or when I’d walk into my room to find Aja with all of her nail supplies..announcing she was doing my nails.  Even her walking in and demanding that I lay down so she could *clean up these ugly ass eyebrows* as she sang along to her favorite songs, with that sweet voice of hers.  It was always so pretty, but she didn’t believe so.  

I looked forward to those times that we spent together; I enjoyed her company so much in such an organic way.  I was so proud of the woman that she was growing into and I loved to just sit there and sort of observe her in her element, and watch how everyone responded to her..she was kind, thoughtful, hardworking, humble...and oh so funny.

Everyone says all of this will lessen with time.  I don’t know how that can be possible.  I don’t think the pain will go anywhere.  I just find different ways to navigate it and to accept the pain, welcome it home like an old friend and to understand…that the depth of my pain is simply a reflection of the depth of the love that I had and continue to have for Aja.

Life from The Sitting Position

Oh, how I wish it was as fun as it sounds.  I mean, don't get me wrong, when I'm feeling lazy...sitting around on the bed or couch all day is amazing.  I get to binge shows that my kids have introduced to, and I apparently am the last person in the world to watch them...like Dr Who.  

I know the show has been out here forever; but I had never laid eyes on it before because it sounded like something I would have absolutely no desire to watch (sci-fi/fantasy/horror are all genres that I have never been into).  But then my son and daughter in law came over and introduced me to it.  And they did the best thing possible...they introduced me to some of the earliest shows.  So now I gotta sit and binge watch what...20-30 YEARS of a show.  No problem...I got this!

And then my daughter proceeds to start talking about this funny ass show she has gotten into...again, sounds like something I would never be into..Resident Alien.  Again, I was wrong...that show has me straight up gut laughing in every episode.  So, I will probably be sitting around next week once the boys take their butts back to daycare and school (they each were sick with their allergies all week...but allergies look too much like cold symptoms...so home they stayed...alllllllllll week)  That was not my idea of a fun week.

So, why am I spending so much time on my rather ample ass, you ask?  Well, because that back surgery they told me that I needed over 3 years ago?  I really should have done it.  Instead I came up with excuses..valid excuses...but excuses just the same.  And now my back/spine issues have deteriorated to the point where I am literally stuck, either in bed or if I can make my way to the couch...I sit there.  I really wish I could get up...I seriously HATE being dependent on Mani for everything.  The good news is that I have begun to give Bryson and Na'eem their first chores to help me out.  After Imani FINALLY (side eye...after about 6 weeks)did the laundry a few days ago..I had Bry and NayNay put all of the towels and face clothes away, and then had them put all of the folded laundry on their bed, for us to put away.  I've also begun to have them start washing walls and wiping down the stove.  Next will be giving Bryson the stepstool and saving small things for him to wash in the sink...spoons, bowls, cups, small plares.  No knives or forks for obvious reasons...I ain't trying to get stabbed up.

But seriously...I am hating this right now.  My doctor has put in a request for a VNA to come out and evaluate me for a scooter...oh joy.  I am OFFICIALLY old and fat now.  He also put in a referral for a PCA and a shower chair, as I have fallen a few times in the bathroom now.  Yep...this sucks.  Oh AND according to my medical chart...I have now been diagnosed with fibromyalgia.  I can walk for about 20 feet before my back starts screaming pain and locks up on my now.   And my limit for standing on my feet before the excruciating pain hits is about 3 minutes.

Anywayyyy....I'll probably be writing a little more.  Starting to do some chair exercising, since I can't stay upright to do them very long.  Any suggestions?  I'm open to them.

Where I Am From

Where I Am From 

February 22, 2021

I am from posters of Huey and Angela, hanging on black painted living room walls

From government cheese and Jean Nat'e

I am from six flights of pissy stairs, because the project elevators didn't work.  Winding.....tiring stairs.  That made you feel like you were climbing all the way to Heaven.

I am from bright green spider plants, and fresh picked daffodils and flower pots made from discarded yogurt containers.  Filling up every available space on the large bright windowsill, the many plants, basking in the glorious sunlight.

I am from ten pounds of fresh little chocolate balls in a big bowl at the end of December every year; turning into stale little foil wrapped piles of dry chocolate tasting powder that we tried to give away to anyone dumb enough to accept them by March, just to get rid of them.

I am from Sara Elisebeth Finley and ......hah...he's not worthy of the title Father.  Lets just call him sperm donor 67.

I'm from laughing til orange soda spills out of our noses, and knowing AND singing loudly as a family...EVERY SINGLE song that comes on the radio.

From "Don't be a tattletale Lisi" and "Stop reading in the dark..you're gonna go blind!"

I'm from "We're Marching to Zion, Beautiful Beautiful Zion!!!" with Aunties Betty, Bettie and Maxine all ready to shower me with baby powder scented hugs, kisses, praise and love every Sunday morning at Mount Calvary Baptist Church.

I'm from Boston and Scandanavia and Nigeria and the Balkans and Sierra Leone.  Boiled dinners of corned beef, potatoes and cabbage, glop, tuna noodle casserole and Fufu.

From the time that 15 year old Aja discovered "Barbados is West Indian??  I thought we were Mexican!!!??"

To the days gone by when 2 year old Aaron, suavely chatting up the college girls on the banks of the Charles, with nothing more than that big smile, a handful of dead flowers, a tired line "Here Lady...I picked this just for you" followed by some slick 2 year old conversation.  He had them completely under his spell.

From facebook, instagram, bedroom and living room walls, Steph and Lisa's houses~ filled with as many memories as they can possibly squeeze in and it still would never be enough.  Because we realize that tomorrow truly is not promised to us and there can never be too many pictures, videos, laughs, smiles, shared glances, bright eyes, hugs or memories to try and cherish

Heavy Is My Grief

                                 Heavy Is My Grief

Weighing down my arms and legs

My eyes, feeling too heavy to open

Grief making each breath feel trapped

Halfway between my stomach and my throat

Where it would catch

And then each time, I would come back in a panic

To the future that I didn’t want to be a part of

And I’d remember to inhale            exhale             inhale

Just to start the process all over again

I started to talk to you, and tell you

How life has been going

But I stopped

Because this time I couldn’t.

So heavy is my grief

This time, I don’t want to imagine what your life would be like now

The what if’s don’t matter anymore

They’ve been taken away and now you are just GONE

Just gone.  Never to be held, touched, hugged, caressed, kissed again.

I’ll never get to listen to your silly jokes, or hear that laugh, so full of joy 

Who will I make whole bowls of potato salad for now?

Or watch, amazed as you hit the buffet 3-4 times before you stuff food into your cheeks and gums “for later”

My silly, beautiful, greedy, kind, funny, generous, forgiving girl is just GONE

And right now, I’m just feeling real heavy and real angry in my grief.  Not healed at all.  I feel like I need to start my healing journey all over again, yet I know that this is actually a part of the journey.  We go back and forth.  But right now.  Heavy is my grief.

Writers Block or Just Me Blocking my Writing?

Heyyyy.  Its definitely been a while since I updated the blog.  Been even longer since I have written any new chapters of the book.  Its for a few different reasons for both.  

I say it's writers block, but the truth is, at least for the book...I have gotten to the point in my life where I'd met Rilow, and that was just such a BAD part of my life.  Yes, the first month or so was nice..the man looked good.  But once you got past that...the next few years were pure, painful hell.  Physical, emotional and mental painful hell.

So yeah, I think my brain has sort of been protecting my emotional "self" and been kind of refusing to "go there" in terms of allowing me to get my writing in.  I haven't even been able to do any short stories, prompts or poetry for the last month or so.  I haven't even journalled, and that's talking to my own self.  But I decided tonight that I needed to get back on my shyt.  I have wasted enough of my own time.  I still have a homework assignment due from last week that I haven't sat down and committed to writing.

Oh my goodness...so while writing a chapter back in December, I was reminiscing about a basketball player that I met years ago, while at the Boston Shootouts..we had exchanged numbers and spoke for a while afterward and whooooo muhcy, my lil teenage self LUVVVVVED me some him!  (and about 4-5 others at the time, lol)  So, I got nosy and googled him...why did I find out that this brotha is an accomplished politician in his city...still fine (even finer than before..but definitely married) and someone that I have actually checked out when he has been on tv and never made the connection, lol!  Dangit man...ya girl dropped the ball on that one big time!!

So I REALLY REALLY want to change blog hosts..this one gives me a lot of issues when it comes down to sharing.  I don't know if other users are having problems with it, but I know that neither facebook or Instagram will allow me to share the links to it.  I get a message that the content that I am trying to share contains violence.  Instagram locked down my account for like 6 months after I put my blog link in my profile info.  I couldn't figure out why I was locked down until I was looking at my profile and saw the link and removed it.  As soon as I did...the account opened back up immediately.  So yeah, I really want to switch to another host, but the lazy in me is like...how tf do I switch over so many years worth of blogs?  Thats a hell of a lot of copy and pasting!!  But I'm gonna have to step up and get to doing..... 

The Place She Used To Hide Out

The Place She Used To Hide Out

There used to be a time when her bedroom was the the place where she used to hide out.  It was her sanctuary, her reading nook, her place to regroup and to escape all of the bullshit that life had thrown her way throughout the day, the week, the month.  She knew that no matter how hard work was that day, when she got home; she could count on going upstairs, kicking off her heels, shedding her bra, putting on her most comfortable muumuu and closing the door to her inner sanctum.

There used to be a time when she could enter her room on a Friday night, and not leave it for the whole weekend.  She had an attached bathroom, so there was no need for her to leave.  She could order food to be delivered, or have someone just bring her a plate from downstairs.  That was a benefit of having older children.  Sometimes, her room would even be the place where her children chose to hide out.  And she didn’t mind that.  Her children seemed to love the peace that the room brought them just as much as she did.  She could be laying in bed, and one or both of them would come in, light an incense and just curl up on the bed with her.  Content to wrap an arm around her leg, or rest the head on her arm.  Or they would meet her at the door after she got home from work, with mischievous smiles on their faces, holding a giant Walmart bag of junk food...letting her know it was going to be “Girls night in Mummy’s bed”.   And they would all curl up in their pajamas, eating their favorite ice cream out of the cartons, watching trash tv and eating ridiculous amounts of candy until they all fell asleep still laughing. 

After the tragedy, the bed became the place she hid out for different reasons.  She didn’t want to face the world.  Couldn’t face them.  She hid out in her room, hoping to disappear forever.  But her friends wouldn’t allow her to do that.  Tiffany and Tee would sit quietly by the side of her bed, watching over her.  Nobody spoke the words, but they didn’t have to.  They wanted to make sure that she didn’t hurt herself.  She said no words.  Just rocked herself in between fits of crying.  Eventually, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.  Tiffany and Tee turned into Michelle and Mani.  Michelle became the Mother she had so needed her own to be in her life.   She dedicated herself to being a daughter and a sister.  And then…..tragedy.

And after tragedy, heartache, anger, hurt, confusion.  And then a new life.  And suddenly, the place she used to hang out became a place for new life.  There was no way to hide out anymore.  There was this beautiful new life that needed her and smiled when she was tired and ready to give up.  And then there were two new lives.  And the place that she used to hide out was no longer her place anymore.  Now the two new lives had taken over the place.  Now there were some nights, she would actually get up and go to sleep in the living room, just to have a few moments of quiet time to herself.

And then the final straw.  She was finally happy again.  Living in a brand new place.  Loving the new space that she could call her place to hide out.  And then she was attacked.  In that space.  Violated in the space that she needed to feel like she could go to be in her sanctuary.  And she was destroyed all over again.  But this time, it was temporary.  She worked through it, reclaimed her space, rearranged spaces and renamed it.  And now it is “The Place She Calls Her Sanctuary” and “A Place of Love”.

 

Ready To Love

     And yes, I DID sing that title just like India Arie.   But unlike India...ion think I am fully ready to love.  Maybe just ready to sing the song.  I feel like I SHOULD feel ready to love.  Like, maybe I should be at least willing to explore the options that are available.   But is that really fair to someone if I know in my heart that I am not going to be willing to give them 100% of myself?

       The last time I knew I was ready to love was when I was still in South Carolina and loving Marcus.  I absolutely loved him, inside and out.  Even after I broke up with him, it wasn't because I didn't love him; it was because I needed to love ME again, more than I was loving him at that time.   But once I was single, I actually realized that not only did I love me...but I actually loved my OWN company and spending time with me on my own terms and not needing to smile in someone's face or cater to their happiness (outside of these grandbabies or my family)

    So I figured I'd be single for about 6 months or so and then would be ready to get back to dating.  I've always enjoyed the dating game; or at the least the booty game, lol.  Hey, gotta keep it 100!  Well, that was August 06 2016 when we broke up.  We have just entered a New Year...January of 2021.  And I'm STILL single.  I did put my foot into the date game back in 2018 and went on a few dates with an incredibly nice man..but I knew it wasn't good of me to continue because it was unfair to him.  He wanted way more from me than I was willing to give at that point in my life.  And I'll be damned if I am still not in that same point in my life.  I just cannot seem to get out of my head.

    I'm sure the situation in 2019 did not help any.  That put a barrier up that would probably take 100000 sticks of dynamite to knock down and then some.  My trust level is in the toilet as far as men go.  And then 2020 brought Covid.  As horrible as it has been, Covid has been a wonderful excuse for me to just stay in the house and not accept any invitations to spend a single moment with a male, lol.  Every time a man approaches me, whether it be online or in person its like *WHOAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!  STRANGER DANGER!!!!!   COVIDDDDDDDDDD, STAY AWAYYYYYY!*  2021 is supposed to be my year of transition.  This is the year that I plan to work on myself, mentally, physically, spiritually...the whole nine.  The woman you see today, will be an ENTIRELY different woman that you will see at the start of 2022, that's all I can say.  There will be blogging, journaling, podcasting, I've joined a woman's group, I'm writing my book, I'm going to work on my poetry...I'm going to work on my writing and communication, period.  I feel like I need to fully expunge any negativity or garbage out of my spirit and just release it in order to be a better me going forward.  So get ready 2021!  LOL...alright.  Let me get out here and spend a few dollars....this lil ass stimulus check...I need to pay on these credit cards, but I also want to buy a couple of things for the candle biz.  Get us some extra supplies.  

How Do You See Heaven

This is not fact, it's not fiction.....its just something I wrote....

How do you see Heaven?  I never used to be able to visualize Heaven.

I just saw the Pearly Whites; The Gates of Heaven

Our image of GOD, sitting there looking down at his scroll, deciding who he is letting in or who is going way back down.

But that was as far as I had ever imagined.

Until I started losing the people that I loved

And losing artists that I listened to

And pets that I have adored

When Auntie first passed away, I started coming closer as I would visit her

At first, I would visit her a lot, but always outdoors.  Usually sitting at the park

I needed to talk to her and hear her call me baby

I needed to tell her all about the things that were going on in my life

And how scared I was and how I didn’t know which way I was going to turn

And I would feel a hug wrap around me and hear her tell me that she would never let anything happen to me.  And I believed her.

But then something did happen.  Something horrible.  Something more horrible than anything I thought that I could ever return from.  And it was time for Aja to join Auntie in Heaven.  But I wasn’t ready.  I wasn’t ready for Aja to go to Heaven.  And if she was going to go to Heaven, then I was going to go to Heaven with her.  So I made a plan.  And I drove to Forest Acres at Rush hour.  When all of the traffic from the hospitals and Fort Jackson would be at its absolute worst.  And I pulled up to the red light.  And I saw the Big Rig.  And when the big Rigs light turned green on my red..I waited until he was about ⅓ way though the intersection and I closed my eyes, stepped on the gas and just drove forward into traffic.  I heard screeches, I heard tires, I heard brakes and then the car stopped.  I assumed I was dead.  I opened my eyes.  I looked to my right…..Auntie was sitting in the passenger side, looking at me crying and cutting her arms.  I looked down and Aja was sitting on my lap, holding the steering wheel..with her foot on the brake.  “It’s okay Mummy.  We’re gonna go to the hospital now, okay?”  And I did. 

And I listened and I did what I needed to do.   And after that, I began to visit Aja.  I shouldn’t have even worried about that girl.  The first person that I saw come up to her was her Grandmother Mickey.  And Aja smiled and laughed and they hugged so deeply and just held each other for the longest time, whispering to each other and laughing like schoolgirls.  I looked around and I realized that it doesn’t matter how you die….sickness, murder, trauma, old age….the moment that you step into Heaven….you are restored to your most beautiful and your happiest age, and it would never change.  You were in Paradise.  Perfect forever.

While Aja and Mickey were hugging, Aja got a tap on her shoulder and was lifted off her feet in a great big bear hug and spun around..it was Erick “Biggie” Gaines, her Aunt Shay’s brother.  She gave him a big hug and jumped down to run over and give his Grandmother, Miss Bobbie a big hug.  Miss Bobbie looked beautiful..she looked like she was getting ready to go out to a party!  Biggie was being as flirty and silly as ever and let Aja know that his assigned role was to promote all the good Heaven parties.  I couldn’t believe there were parties in Heaven.  He said yes, just not any alcohol or drugs.

It seemed to me that all of the connected people or people that you knew or were related to somehow, all seemed to live in close proximity to each other.  Nobody seemed to be thinking about bills or rent or food...in Heaven, everything is taken care of for you.

I looked up and my eyes welled up immediately.  Sitting over in a grassy area, surrounded by dozens of attentive faces were George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Trayvon Martin, Rayshard Brooks, Daniel Prude, Atatiana Jefferson, Sandra Bland, Botham Jean, Philandro Castille, Alton Sterling, Freddie Gray, Eric Garner, Akai Gurley, Tamir Rice and Michael Brown.  But there was no sadness, no anger!  These beautiful men, women and children were there leading and mentoring and organizing young people.  Helping them to get involved in activities that would stimulate their brains...poetry slams, debate teams, writing groups, community newspapers.

I followed Aja around, still trying to find out what she had been assigned to do.  Every adult had a special assignment.  Sudden;y, we got to a huge , oversized Victorian home that  easily had 25 rooms.  She stopped before opening the door and suddenly the most peaceful smile came over her face.  She turned to me.  “It’s okay Mummy.  Really.Don’t you see?  I really AM in Heaven now!  This big old house is all mine!  They take care of it for me.  I don’t pay any bills.  I tell them what food I need, and the same day...all the cabinets are filled to the top with anything I could ever want Mummy!   And guess what?  All the babies and little ones and all the kitties...they are all for me!”  And we walked in and Aja was immediately surrounded by a rainbow of so many smiling small faces and babies and children.  All wanting to love on her and tell her about their morning.

You see, every single baby, small child, young child that passes on...no matter how...Aja has been assigned to be there to greet them the moment they pass through and to take them home.  It doesn’t matter how they died, the moment they reach Aja, they are made precious and perfect forever again.  The same goes for all of the kittens and cats.  And Heaven just keeps on adding more rooms onto that big old house to accommodate everybody.  The backyard has gotta be about 5 acres, with every toy and plaything you can think of.    There are lots of other people assigned to help with the children, but this is Aja’s house and she runs it.  Everybody knows that those are Aja’s babies and they will stay with her forever.

Oh, and Auntie has a set of rooms at the house too.  But she is out at either the Bingo parlor or at one of Heavens big card games 7 days a week.  And grabbing scratch tickets on her way back and forth.  And because this is Heaven, she has been winning on everything and is now a Heaven Billionaire.  The only thing she is unhappy about is the No Smoking rule in Heaven.  She hasn’t smoked since she got here.  HE has eyes everywhere.

And this is how I see Heaven when I visit Aja and Auntie in my heart.  I visited Aja tonight to ask her to tell one of my friends to come on back, its not her time to cross over.  I need her to continue fighting for her life.  So Aja, come thru for me

 

So What Are You Supposed To Talk About Then

I was on a social app today.  Admittedly, some people use this app to “hook up”.  But as it says on my profile, “I’m just here to chat, I don’t exchange numbers or meet anyone offline”.  I thought that was pretty clear.

I stopped dating a few years ago.  And I especially stopped meeting men online.  It’s not that I think there is anything wrong with it, or that men online are bad guys.  I’ve met my share of really good guys online.  I just truly have no interest in meeting any guys, online or off at this stage of my life.

Some guys that hit me up are perfectly fine with this.  We have great conversations...some very casual about their work day or what they did over the weekend.  Some are on a deeper level.  I have conversed with a man about his ongoing cancer treatment, with another about his quickly building music career and his contracting business.  Everything is completely appropriate and I enjoy our conversations.  But then, you will have the ones who still suggest “Well, we can still meet just as friends”  Well….No...we can’t.  First...COVID.  Second...what part of I don’t meet men off line was confusing to you?  

So today, when you hit me up and right off the bat started talking about getting to know me and “building” and seeing where it could lead.  I shut down that conversation with the quickness.  I kept it light and polite, and just let you know that I don’t meet men offline, nor do I date.  But that wasn’t good enough for you.  You kept pushing “I promise you, I wouldn’t be a disappointment”.  I shrugged “I’m sure you wouldn’t.  But I still have no interest”.  And whooooooo….it was at THAT very moment that I seemed to have touched your ego in a very bad place!

It took you 2.2 seconds to type back “So what are supposed to talk about then?  This is a dating site, not no damn talking site!”  And I had to laugh, because I knew then that I was speaking to a man who couldn’t think beyond his midsection.  So I asked, “Do you not ever ever hold conversations with other human beings that aren’t based on possible relationships?  Fortunately, I’m able to speak to plenty of people who are”.

Boyyyyyy….I tell ya, brah was HOT!!!  He typed back in ALL CAPS “F.O.H.!!  NOPE!!” and further made his point with a picture of his...well, I have to admit...rather impressive naked peen.  I may have sat and pondered it from a few angles for a moment or two; still never forgetting that it was nothing more than a passaround peen.

So the old Lisa had to come out for a moment.  I let him know “Ya know...ya shyt isn’t half bad looking.  It’s too bad you are so childish.  That reckless ass mouth of yours probably talks you out of 99% of the quality azz you MIGHT be able to get.  That’s why ya left with the dopefiends and dikkhoppas you are probably crusty and leaking from now”

Anddddddd BLOCK!   Oh...but first I had to report his naked peen picture.  After I screen shotted it of course.  Shyt…..I’m celibate, not dead.

 

I Hope He Was Just Having A Bad Day

Okay,  long Lisa story of the week.  So, when I went through the trauma unit when I got to the ER this last hospitalization....this resident that was in the trauma room and working on me was pretty much a jerk.  

He was trying to get an iv going, and I was trying to let him know in between catching breaths that due to so many hospitalizations.. my veins are shot and you have to use an ultrasound or go in EXACTLY where the 1 definite vein is and the needle has to go in at a very specific angle.  It's literally the only spot they have been successful in for probably 2 years, and only I think 2 people have been able to hit the vein without an ultrasound.  The ER people always listen when I let them know and get an ultrasound off jump, because who wants the hassle?  Apparantly this resident did.  Because he was like..I don't need an ultrasound..and proceeded to go into my right arm and probe around in no less than 8 or 9 locations.  Not only that, but when he would fail, he would yank the needle out and just set up for another location.  He wasn't putting pressure on the injection site to stop the bleeding or anything.  By this point, I'm pretty much just laying there with tears silently flowing from the pain.

At the same time, I've got people on the other side of me, trying to get ivs going in my other arm.  They were also drawing blood.  Then the resident says to me that he is going to put an iv into my neck.  I start shaking and crying, because..NO.  So this mofo says...what's the problem?  I'm telling him, really BEGGING him, I have never had a needle in my neck, can you PLEASE just get the ultrasound, I swear..I'm telling you where the vein is that you will be able to use.   So then this man has the audacity to tell the nurse that he wants them to do a drug screen on me!!!  He thought I was high! He goes back to my arm..tries a few more times and then just walks out of the room.

The nurses start grumbling about him and one turns around and curses.  This mofo with all of his poking and probing the needle around in me and then just taking it out, with no pressure on it...apparantly..all those holes in my arm were just flowing blood and the side of the stretcher was soaked and there was a pool of blood on the floor, and he didn't say a word to them..he just left.  Nurses were pissed.

Oh yeah..they bought in an ultrasound a little later after I was stabilized, and got an iv in the EXACT spot I told them to in like 2 minutes.  But I've been complaining about how sore and hard and stiff my right forearm has been all week.  

I was in my room last night and Imani happened to walk in and looked and grabbed my arm and turned it this way and that way and was like..Oh my God!!! She started comparing it to my other arm and I'm like..yeah, I know, I have crazy bruises from the needles.  And she is like..No..you need to call your Dr.  Your arm has a bunch of lumps in it and it's real swollen.  And then she says

.gyattttdamn!!  I'm sitting here like what??! She says...you didn't see that big bruise?  I said, there's a lot of bruises.  She says..no...its like your elbow down almost to your wrist.   I hadn't even noticed it to be honest..I don't go looking at the back of my arms that often.

And that was my long story of the week

The Irony Of The Words

 I have been going through my oldest blogs and working my way up, looking for some memories as I have begun to finally write my book.  And I came across this entry that I wrote sometime in 2008, while I was still living in Sumter, South Carolina.  I was talking about finally realizing what had driven me to move to SC.  At the end of the  blog, Id written:

I think SC is for the here and now. The move was necessary....Id lost my love for and my hope in Boston. I need a few years to sort of regroup and EXHALE, to see some more of the world and see how I react TO the world...but then I need to return to the city, maybe Boston, maybe Baltimore. Maybe I can view it through "new eyes" with a revitalized spirit and energy. Return with a new path for my life. To get back on the track that has always guided me..to make a DIFFERENCE. They say home is where the heart is, and right now..my heart isn't in Boston OR SC..it is still searching, if that makes sense.

The irony is that the only reasons that I returned to Boston were stressors.  My child had been murdered, my health was suffering, my teenaged daughter had just delivered a baby that had complex medical needs and was expecting another baby...MY LIFE WAS FALLING APART AROUND ME.  I had an incredible support system around me in Columbia, where I was living, but I needed my Mother and sisters love.  I needed to be able to see their faces and to feel their hugs when I needed to.  To be able to see my son and daughter in law when I wanted to.  And I figured we would come back to Boston and my inner peace would return instantly.

Welp...I was correct in that my joy returned in that I was able to see my family whenever I wanted to.  I've missed hanging out with them and cooking for them.  But other than that, Imani and I knew within weeks..we HATED being back in Boston.  We knew we had made a mistake returning.  Yes, it is amazing healthcare for me and for the boys, there is no denying that.  I will not pretend that you really have to do your research and invest time and patience to make sure to find the right doctors and resources for specialized care in South Carolina.  And so we have taken advantage of every resource that we need to take advantage of here.  But internally, SC became our home.  Everything that I had been looking for?  The place to belong?  To make a difference?  To be an activist?  To be a voice and make a change?  I was doing that.  We had created a family down there.  A family that we miss.  Id found my poetry scene, my singing scene, my open mic scene, my Waiting to Exhale Crew.  

Like I said before...They say home is where the heart is.  And I'm no longer searching.  After living there for 9 years and being back here in Boston for 3 years, I know that South Carolina is home for us.  We are staying here for 1.5 more years, but the plan is to absolutely return to SC at the end of the school year in 2022.

Writers Block and Stuck Keys

Of course, now that I FINALLY made the decision to actually move forward and be intentional about writing my story while simultaneously doing a book of poetry (because doing just one wouldn't be enough..I need to go ALLLLL the way) I have the worst case of writers block ever!  And not only that, but this daggone laptop has decided that every other 20 minutes, the t and y keys will stop working for 20-30 minutes or more, and I have to shut everything down while I sit here fighting with it.

Mmmm..before I forget..the powers that be in the algorhythems ( I know just butchered the spelling of that huh?)  at both FB and IG have deemed my blog abusive, so I can't share the blog on them any longer.  Well, I may be able to share the link to the general blog itself on fb, I haven't tried that method yet.  But it won't let me post links to the actual blog posts.  And IG...whew...they shut me down completely like a month ago.  Locked my whole damn account down.  I can still log in and see everything.  I can respond to dm's.  And post pictures, but that is it.  Can't like pics.  Can't even caption my pics.  I had to just start a whole new account.  I messaged IG support like 7 times because when I look under violations, it say I actually have none, but have gotten no response so far.  So there's that.

Let's see what else is happening.  Oh yeah...this week is the first week that Bry will have 4 days at school!!!!  Oh Em Gee!  I am not gonna know what to do with myself.  I kind of want to go to the gym, but the lazy in me is basically laughing at that.  I kind of want to go vote early.  But I'm also kind of worried that if I vote early, something mysterious is going to happen to all of those early votes and they will disappear or something.  I don't trust 45 as far as I can through him and his toupee.

This will be a short entry.  I was hoping that as I typed, I would kickstart my brain into think mode and I'd find something to write about.  I'm gonna go read some old journals to jog my memory and then do some writing about earlier years.

Ready To Go

 Free Writing from my FB writing group. I have finally decided to make the leap into writing my book after contemplating it for many years.

Ready To Go

I stared dejectedly through the windshield as I thought to myself "Fukk this Lis! You tried 15x already. Just leave the shyt alone and go home."

I glanced out of the drivers side window and two of the barbers from "We Cut Headz" Barber Shop were standing outside, smoking and watching everything that I was trying to do, laughing quietly. This just pissed me off even more and made me even MORE determined.

Taking a deep breath, I made up my mind to carry this thing through, even if it killed me in the process. First, I needed to make peace. I closed my eyes and began a quick prayer to Allah. I'd be missing many of the pre prayer requirements, but Allah is all seeing, and he sees my heart. First, I prayed for my family, then I apologized for the 5 lb bucket of Jelly Belly Jelly Beans that I have selfishly been hiding in the back of my closet in order to avoid sharing with Mani, Michelle and Marcus, And I apologized for the damned good, but very out of Wedlock and therefore Haram fornication that I was enjoying tremendously with Marcus each night. And Ameen. After that very important cleansing, I felt like Allah knew my heart was coming to HIM pure and HE was ready to help me. So I took a deep breath.

And so I pulled the car forward a little bit and then carefully checked my side and rear mirror---no obstacles, so I'm good to go. I slowly tried to maneuver my way via twists and turns into the parallel space. Yeah Lisa!!! Good job! BAM BISH!!!!

Except......When I got out of the car, I was about 2 feet away from the curb...maybe 3. FUGGGGGGGG!!!!! Alrighty then..... Pull away and repeat. Pull back a little further this time. Now my rear bumper slams in the curb, and I'm damn near sticking straight out into the street.

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr *sniffle sniffle*

Turn off the music, so I can really concentrate and see better

Give the pep talk. Let her know we can go get a car wash and detail. Maybe an oil change

Pull out and start again............AHHHHHHHHHH

Now I'm cussing this damn car....she's an ugly, ungrateful bish who doesn't appreciate how good I treat her and I'm selling her for parts after work anyway!

Sitting in the car, looking dejectedly out the windshield and I feel a presence. I look up and the man from the barbershop is leaning in my window. Ooooh, a handsome man!! I bust out my best flirty, sexy smile "Hey, how ya doing hunee?" He says " Baby Girl, c'mon outta this car. I'm just gonna park this shyt for you" And then he proceeds to do a perfect park in about 3.2 seconds, and jump out and go back to the barber shop.

Have you ever tried to walk away with some sense of dignity when someone just made you feel like you accidentally left your specially fit helmet, fig newtons and juice box on the little yellow bus?

Tonight I Lay In My Bed Listening

This is something that I originally wrote in I think 1999-2000.  I recently found it and updated a few lines to make it current..  Its a little dark, but a lot of my poetry tends to be more on the social commentary side.

Tonight I Lay In My Bed Listening 

by Lisa Robinson 2000

Tonight I lay in my bed listening.

Listening to the sounds of a woman.

She screams, this woman. Somebody’s mother, sister, daughter, lover.

I listen as she screams. Screams for all of the things that were…but will never be again.

She remembers

Remembers perhaps, the first time she touched the tiny brown face and looked into his eyes.

She remembers those first unsure steps, the first cry of “Mama”….she remembers the baby.

She remembers the tears on the morning he first began school, and the laughter as he returned home.

Maybe she cries for the times of pain – cries for the bruises, skinned knees, maybe even broken bones. All of which will heal in time.

She cries for the boy

Maybe she cries for the pains that will not heal. For the time that her child, who has been loved and adored since birth, came home and asked “Mama, what is a nigger?”

She cries for the time that his heart has been broken, the pain of a first love.

She cries for the pain, the anger and frustration he feels, every time he “fits the description” or “she crossed the street and clutched her purse when she saw me”.  He is becoming a Black Man

She cries for the simple irony of it all. That someone who came out of an act so beautiful, so tender and loving…could be taken away in an act so UGLY, so VIOLENT so HATEFUL!

He will never hear her cries! 

He was somebodies father, brother, son and lover.

She cries because she knows this. He has been taken away. Never again to be held, kissed, caressed or told “I Love You”

Tonight I lay in my bed listening to the cries of a woman. 

It is me; and I’m crying for all of the mothers who have lost a child.

Lost Files - Poetry 2002 - 2004 Part 2

 Definitely had to do a Part 2:               

The Song

2002

 I stepped forward, onto the stage

Careful as ever, not to trip over the thick wires

I said hello to the Host, and positioned myself just left of him

Close enough to see his reactions, unsure still of my skills

 I grabbed my “lucky” microphone…the red one…always

I wasn’t sure if it really brings luck; but who am I to challenge?

The first notes of the song began

 As usual, it strikes a chord of panic within me

Will tonight be the night?

Will this be the night I mess it up?

Inhale…..Exhale

 Slowly, I opened my eyes

Closed them again as I began the first verse

I needed to mentally hear the words I was singing

Unsure of what sounds I was producing

I tentatively opened my eyes and scanned the faces in the room

 The were smiling!  A few were clapping

nodding and giving words of encouragement

Gradually, my voice became stronger

My smile became wider

My stance became freer

I began to feel the song

The rhythm…the Essence

Desperate

6/13/2007

 Sitting here thinking

Feeling my frustration growing

Growing strong with each passing hour

Each hour that you’re away

 Away from my heart

Away from my passion

Away from the love that I so desperately

Wish I could make you feel

 The love that forces itself upon me

Forces me to love you unconditionally

Forces me to love you from a place so deep within

That it physically hurts

 Can you feel..the way that my heartbeat seems to merge with yours?

Even when we are miles apart

The way that my soul opens up,

and feels the pain in your eyes

Knowing that if you were to cut

I would surely bleed

 You couldn’t possibly know…

You haven’t gotten there yet

To this place

This place where only my heart

Lays open and crying

Crying out in desperation

Desperate to be made whole again

Desperate to stop beating with yours

Desperate to stop feeling this pain

Desperate

To stop loving you

Playing With Dolls

2001

 Back when I used to play with Barbie Dolls

Playing house seemed so simple

I’d line up all my Barbies, and fill up the pink townhouse with pink and white furniture

The only decision I had to make was

Which outfit Barbie would wear that day

 I never had to worry about how to pay for Barbies clothes

Every Christmas or Birthday, at least 6 outfits would magically appear

I didn’t have to worry about a job

After all; Barbie could be anything:  Policewoman, Astronaut, Ballerina, Superstar, Teacher, a nurse or the President

 When Barbie said “YES” to Ken, everything was complete

I didn’t have to plan a wedding

I just pulled out “Bride Barbie” and “Groom Ken”  All set!

 There were no car notes to concern yourselves with, or loans to get co-signed

Mom just got Barbie that pretty pink sports car

Ken and Barbie could travel in the Deluxe  Motor Home for the summer

 Back when I used to play with dolls

Ken didn’t leave when baby Skipper came along

He didn’t have an affair with Barbie’s BFF Teresa

Ken never worried about keeping a job.  He had 8 professions to choose from

 Back when I used to play with dolls

There was no divorce

When the relationship began to fade

I could just place Ken and Barbie back on their shelf

There was no alimony to pay

No missed child support payments

 There was never a death in the Barbie world

If Barbie’s head or arm popped off; we knew a brother, sister, mom or cousin who could pop it back on, just like new

 I miss life with the dolls sometimes

I can’t help but to sit back and wish for the days when

Ken and Barbie were the only relationship I had to focus on