I'm in the Closet.

Let me tell ya’ll a story ‘bout survival and finding hope where hope no longer lives. Gather ‘round, chitlins. Some of ya’ll might not believe this story, some of ya’ll might be afeared. Ain’t no use in either, honeychild, life is a wild ride. Every day is something new to face.

When did it all start? Ah, yes….

I done emailed my landlady on this here computer machine, and I told her, I done said I plan to move into school dorms at the end of the month. Yeah, yeah, sure, I had I told her I would be living here until January, but cross my heart and hope to die, she said to let her know by the 25^th of the month if I had gone and had a change of mind. Which I did, baby. I sure did.

Well, she wunnit havin’ it. Nuh uh. Let me tell you somethin’… that Israel girl tells me moving out is unacceptable and she right up demands I pay rent. Matter of fact, since I went and said I wanted to leave, she demanded I pay that very same day. Honey, I do not have that sort of money just lying around!

It was then I realize, if she catches me home, who knows what awful things she’d do to me! God have mercy on my soul. This little Jew decided then, there ain’t no way I’m getting into a big something something because of all this drama. So I went and I shut the lights and turned off the fan. Let me tell you, you ain’t never smelt the smell of fear like I smelled that fateful night. I never packed my things so fast. I wunnit used to running away.  I don’t believe in fear, but that night the Devil was on my trail. I swear it as far as I can throw it.

Every time I tried to make my escape, my door would loudly bang, I couldn’t make a run for it just yet. The time was not right. Besides, them 60 lbs of luggage were a backbreaker going down 3 flights of stairs. I knew I’d have to stay the night and fight another fight for survival.

That night was the worst of my life. Every noise, every voice, I felt myself quivering from big toe to the hair on my head. I was a nervous wreck and I knew I was in trouble if I made a noise. I did what I had to do to survive, feasting on dead roaches and relieving myself in a corner. I ain’t never gonna be the same. Didn’t get me a wink of sleep.

That’s why I planned on the computer machine to get away when my captors were at work. My hero would come by in his car today while
they’z at work. I still heard the white man in the kitchen at 10 AM, though. Clinking dishes and silverware. Just clinking carelessly, awaiting to hear just a single cough or blink from me. For now, I just wait, not knowing what my future holds; or if I’ll even have a future.

Part II:

The day came and it was time for the escape. Mama A was on Skype all jumpy just as I was. We was anxiously awaitin’ my fate. I was at my computer when I heard that dreaded noise. A thud on the door. Now, I heard many thuds in my day, but this one held the wrath of Satan. Boy, I tell you. I up and grabbed my computer and dashed right into the closet. That there closet was as small as, well, a closet. Tiny as the dickens, but I fit my entire body in, except my toes stuck out a little. She walked away from the door. I felt relief, but weren’t taking no chances by leaving the closet, so I held in most of my breaths, took the pain, and dealt with my arms losing blood. Where was that dang hero of mine with his car? He weren’t nowhere to be heard from! So, not a woman for letting no man and no woman hold me back, I came out of the closet. I listened real close-like to the door. When it went silent, I made my flee. I grabbed my guitar, my backpack, my 60 lb luggage, my 20 lb luggage, and I jolted down the three flights of stairs. I swore any second they’d stop me and Krav Manga me in the face, but ain’t you know it, I got free. I whistled for a cab and it came near, all I said was, “Take me to the University, boy, take me home.” He looked at me funny and said, “What?” So, I clarified and asked him how much it would cost. Best 50 shekels ever spent, I tell you. Who would have thought freedom would come in the shape of a burly Israeli man and his little white taxi? Sure, I left behind my razor, but what I didn’t leave behind was my dignity! ‘Cept when she knocked the second time and I peed myself a little. I kept most of it, though.

Now here I am in the dorm room. Alone. Air conditioner on.
Just back from the mall with a beer. Life ain’t never been sweeter. Lordy, let me tell you, life is good.

Why you Should make him a Sandwich *This will offend you*

This is a list I dreamt about. Upon sharing it with a fellow scholar of advanced intellect and sophistication, he suggested that I post the list, along with images from the 50s and thereabouts that I felt fitting. I am easily influenced, so why not?

Reason #5:

Cardio! It may seem minor, but even just those 10 extra minutes off the couch will do your body some real good. We all know how hubby likes a slim wife, after all.


Reason #4:

Power! He may like to feel like he's in control, but she who decides what goes into his meal controls what matters. Show him who's boss!





Reason #3:

While you're at it, make yourself a sandwich too! Or even better, make yourself a salad. Remember: Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

Reason #2:

Know your way around. You know how in war there's a home base advantage? Same goes for the kitchen. Every woman should know her kitchen like the back of her man's hand.



The final reason to make him a sandwich?

Reason #1:

Because he asked you once and he shouldn't have to ask you again!

If there's one thing I've learned...

Throughout my travels, it's that I do not travel well. Sure, I'll sign up for the major trek and I'll do it, so that's pretty impressive... however, getting me there and the first week or two... or three... or several months are misery. As my mother once said and I quote often to explain my mentality, "Most people get hungry and they're grumpy. You get hungry and you're a pit of despair."

This applies to hunger, travel, socializing, and... life. I don't deal well with things. Particularly new things. I'm kind of autistic in that way. Is that an adjective one may use non-offensively? To be fair, my anxiety is an offshoot of autism, so it's kind of true. As in, I am HIGHLY reactive. I get a sensory overload quite easily. Too much clothing in the clothing store! AH! Too many plans this week! AH! This did not go as planned! AHHHH!! Yeah, that's another thing, I don't deal well with last minute changes. If someone says we'll meet at a certain time, if they're late, or even if I am late due to unforeseen circumstances, I die. I straight up just die. Fortunately, I come back to life, but the death part is overwhelming and anxiety-provoking in itself.

This is not the direction I was planning on taking this bloggy thingermadoo, but I always seem to turn things, whether it be a travel log or a romantic venture, into over-intellectualized existential crises.  Anywho, sensory overload (or overlord, as I almost typed), what is this you speak of? You being me. Me being me. Well, it means I take in everything I see, feel, think, do, smell, and hear in a way that makes my head cry. It even goes as far as how I feel about things. I obsess, I overthink, I care too much. Fortunately, this is balanced out a bit by my lack of attention span. This, however, may sound like me saying I'm too good of a person that not even the tremendous capacity of the human mind can handle it, but that's certainly not what I mean. What that means is that I take things and people to heart. Let me simplify: I have the feels big time, yo. However, in a little twist of events, it's so overpowering, that in order to cope, my mind practically shuts those feels down. As in, I know before a big trip that I am crazy nervous and excited. I'm not a robot, as it appears sometimes. I am maddeningly emotional and sensitive. However, if I constantly spouted those feelings out and cried or screamed in joy all the time, someone would slice open my throat. In order to fix this, my body has decided to turn me into the person who's like, "Oh- the 4 month trip to the Middle East? Yeah. That'll be coolstuffandthingswhatever."

I am certain many individuals can relate to this poor way of coping. After all, it would be nice and healthy to turn on some sort of emotional faucet once in a while, right? Maybe the ability is inside us all and we just need to believe and let the emotions free!

Yeah, I get that line a lot. People seem to think I hold back my emotions because I fear vulnerability. You too? You hear that all the time also? Wow, we should be best buddies or something! Sure, this may be part  of the defense mechanism. Like I said earlier, it's risky to constantly let everyone know how you feel and think... BUT I don't think this is entirely the case. As a matter of fact, I know it isn't. I'm happy to tell people about much of my dark past (cue bats and witches and junk). I just won't necessarily go into the emotional aspect. Obviously if I cried in a dark corner, I wasn't Cheerful Charlie, but that's for you to infer, not for me to go into a whole rant about. "And then I felt like my sadness was just a big crumpled piece of looseleaf paper. I just wanted to chuck it into the trash can. Chuck it! I want to CHUCK IT! DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

Here's what I say: My rule is that I am allowed to be as terrified and sad and angry in my private time as I need to be. I won't be mad at myself for it or embarrassed, I'll just let it happen. At the end of the day, though, I have to go forward with the plan. Of course, in small print it says, "Unless it's really not worth it." Indeed, I'm also allowed to back out of it. The idea is just trying. Sometimes things end up being intolerable, of course. Even if I think I am ready for something, it doesn't mean my mind is. I have to respect that. This can get tricky, too. Sometimes you can't just walk out of a situation or say, "I'm getting off this ride now." Sometimes... maybe (????) it's good to put yourself in a new, scary situation that you can't escape. Maybe it'll be awful and horrible, but I do recommend it is something temporary. Even if it's 4 months. Those 4 months will end and I'll either fail out of school and go home crying like a true failure or maybe I'll excel and adjust and want to come back right away. Admittedly, these are two extremes, and neither are likely to happen... That too is in the fine print. I'll just keep the cheerful, positive voice. Yay! Everything will work out and all your dreams will come true and unicorns will pop out of your eye sockets!