Greyhound Dreams


It’s official.

I’m scheduling my long-awaited bus trip across the country.

I’m doing this for several reasons actually. One of which is truly to find that part of myself that’s been lost within myself for some time now. Now, if anyone knows me, I’m on a constant pursuit of this imaginary person that exists inside of me but this time, and probably this time only, I’m going to ask this guy to come along for the ride. He’ll stand real close but not too close to get in the way, but not too far to make me yell at him during an intense time of need.

He’ll stand with me throughout the tough questions I’ll ask of myself, and he’ll walk tall during the after decisions that’ll propell me forward and with more confidence. He’ll also ask of me to ‘shut the hell up’ during those times where my advice isn’t warranted, and he’ll equally chastise me for not speaking up when my words will actually make anĀ  impact. He’ll also carry me ‘to that place’ when I need to lessen my load, and drop me when I need a reminder to be human. In my words, he’ll give back to myself a sense of why I started writing in the first place.

I think we’ll both love it.

So, the month of November will be spent almost entirely on a Greyhound bus with only a few items to keep me socially clean, a laptop that durable enough to survive a windstorm, and enough common sense to know that not everyone wants to be bothered in the middle of a midnight bus ride about their life happenings and the such.

I suppose I’ll just wait until the morning to ask those kinds of questions.

M.C. Davis

Oh, No Worries, It’s Latex…


This past week has been quite trying.

I’ve gotten little to no sleep, lost my voice twice, and contemplated the effects of DC traffic in terms of overall health a few times to count. In a moment or three, I think I even screamed in my most Carol Ann, don’t walk into the light voice, “God, why me??”

And, you know what?

I would do it all over again.

This past week presented for me an affirmation to the uniform, the heritage, and the level of integrity it takes to wear the Chief Petty Officer uniform. In an instant, I was reminded to take a closer look into not only what makes a solid leader trustworthy, but also the character it takes in recognizing the same attributes in someone else. Often, we only need the little reminders in life to fully grab onto the bigger things in life.

These past 6 weeks has been one of those moments for me.

Yep…Navy Chief, Navy Pride.

M.C. Davis

Wide Open Spaces

Often, we’re left with one single road, and usually a little dusty.

This month has been especially trying and although I really have nothing to complain about, I’ve found myself in a series of very important life questions.

Am I where I’m supposed to be?
Do I have everything it takes to tackle the future?
What happened to this year and why isn’t my book of poetry finished?

As I stumble through these questions and others, I find myself milking into other questions that ultimately lead me down an endless road of other fruit-filled questions. In a sense, I’m bombarded with an awareness of who and where I am, but without any of the succinct details of who I am.

This is quite the quandary at times.

I know for most of my friends, seeing me as a human is quite revealing, but the truth of the matter is that I’ve always been human. In other words, I do bleed when there’s a mess inside of my soul. There are scary times ahead and I actually welcome them with open arms.

In these wide open spaces.

I’m open to the idea of failing because in this awesome sense of my growth, I’m spiraling upwards to a place where I can be touched and revealed.

This is positive growth like no other.

I read once that a very important trait of a positive communication path always involves the notion that each person involved in a discourse simply wants to be heard, vice spoken to.

I think I’m hearing myself for the first time in centuries.

This, I’m learning.

M.C. Davis

Jus’ Sayin’


we would
be if I said
“jus’ sayin'”
to the
you shower
me, or the
that glaze
my body
sweat makin’

would you
feel if I
said “jus sayin'”
to the
kids that
bear your
face, or the
house that
its walls, or
the arms
that bring you
to me
at 3am.

what else
would matter
I said
“jus’ sayin'”
you left
with your bags,
or the
time you said
“I was like
the others”, or
the moment
you realized
wasn’t the man
I should be.

who’s jus’

M.C. Davis