The Romanticism of Politics

I came across the video on The Young, Black, and Fabulous (TheYBF.com). I don't usually bring up politics and in no way am I trying to now but I believe in love and this video made my heart dance. (Plus, this is my favorite song on Musiq Soulchild's album "On My Radio.")

God is Love. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

I so don’t belong here. I’m supposed to be where the big city lights are singing and dancing (in the streets), living in a loft, and writing for BlackBook, Vibe, Vogue, Essence, and myself! All kinds of clip ideas run through my head--so many that I lose them to forgetfulness before I can write them down. I should have a laptop nearby at all times or at least a pen and paper. But I’m stuck putting in work for others and trying to figure out how I’m going to get out of paying these loans (feeling claustrophobic, too). Can’t breathe between these walls and there are no windows in the office. Clutter is everywhere. I just want open space, a desk, a computer, and hardwood floors. Well, I would need internet access of course. What good is a computer without it?
Like a mouse in a maze, how do I get outta here, dammit! I’ll take that cheese though! (Hey, a girl’s gotta live.) I have a mean shoe habit to support and these bills don’t pay themselves! But I sure wish they would. And while I’m wishing, how’s about money growing on trees? That would be nice-- life amidst the forest of money trees. But if it’s not one thing, it’s another. So, I suppose I’d just find something else to moan about. Maybe it’s just the Virgo in me but what if I don’t believe in astrology?
I know I’m going to be great. I just don’t know how. Is it possible to be more than that in more than one way? I used to think music was my venue but it now reminds me of an ex husband with whom I have children and am bound for life. I feel like a divorcee’ and have never been married (or even in a serious relationship for that matter). I was once in love until one day, I looked around and realized that I was there alone. But that’s a horse of a different color (as my mother would say). Speaking of things my mother said, I will have what is meant for me and that really makes me wonder…if I ever gave a f*** about you! Give me something to believe in ’cause I don’t believe it’s true anymore. (Shoutout to Maroon 5; Those were lyrics just in case you didn‘t get it.) Okay. Disregard everything post ellipses. But seriously, I wonder what is for me?

There Was The One

...There was the one that made me feel like nothing else mattered. There was the one who made sleep easy. There was the one who made it impossible to stay mad. And there was the one. He was the one.

...He was the one my mother loved. He was the one who loved me unconditionally. He was the one who waited for me. He was the one who taught me. He was the encouraging one. He encouraged me to believe in me.

...I left him. I was too blind to see. He was the one. Stupid me.

Just Because I'm a Lover...

...don't mean I'm not a fighter. For those of you that may have a problem with my blatant disregard for the King's English and every rule of grammar there is (most of which I probably don't even know), let me rephrase that. (Note about the author: I have a Bachelor's degree in Finance, not English.) The fact that I am a lover does not necessarily indicate that I am not a fighter as well. (Better?) The truth is, I was extremely bored at "work," I just got a scanner, and I'm alone in the office.So. I decided to doodle (or sketch) a little and this phrase was the one that came to mind at the moment, "Just because I'm a lover don't mean I'm not a fighter." (I hope I didn't offend any true artists with my obviously amateur drawing.) I, for whatever reason, thought this was a necessary post because...well, IDK! WTF? SMH. OMG! (I apologize if you are reading this with intent.) As I stated before, I "was" and still am bored at work and in the office alone playing with the scanner. (That is so professional, I know.) But if one were to take the sound of my fingers stroking the keyboard as any indication of my productivity, one might actually think I was very busy. (hehe)


It's about that time! (Quitting time is what I'm referring to just in case you were wondering.) This just may be the longest few minutes of my life so, let the countdown begin!

I Have No Idea What Happened After That

It's Friday. I'm sitting in my parked car under the veil of night's darkness watching the raindrops join the river water. Thoughts overwhelm me as I try to distract myself by singing but the song's lyrics only trigger a descend into deeper thought. People come and go all around me (mostly cars packed with young girls parking while they go off with their boyfriends to do who knows what) but after a while, all I hear is the mid tempo taps of the rain off the car's windshield. I don't think I'm even singing anymore. I'm absent and lost in thought...until my phone rings.

I don't really feel like speaking but I manage to say, Hello?

...No response. I listen a little while longer then repeat, Mm. Hello?

It's him. What up?

I grimaced. I hate when you say that.

What's wrong? Why do you sound so down? I smiled on the inside but it didn't translate to my face.

Nothing. I lied. I just didn't want to share. I planned to avoid acknowledgment as long as I could. I was mad at him but I couldn't bare telling him because it seemed so silly.

You don't have any reason to be sad. Where are you? He was always so sincere. (That's why I loved him.)

At the park. I still didn't feel much like talking but for him, I'd try.

At the park?! He repeated as if I hadn't spoken the King's English. What are you doing at the park?

Nothing. I paused. Thinking.

Thinking about what? I knew he would say that so, I fixed my mouth to lie again.

Nothing. (This response was rapidly growing old and I could hear the aggravation in his voice.)

He started to pose another question but instead said, I'll be there in a minute.

I couldn't help myself. The tears rolled down my face just as soon as I hung up the phone. I didn't want him to see me crying so I tried to wipe them away but for every one I swiped, two more fell in its place. Just as the well ran dry, I looked over my shoulder and he stood there in the rain. I unlocked the door and he got in. Neither of us spoke. I rose from my slumped position, met his embrace, and I have no idea what happened after that.

Wonder W.T.F. Woman

My mother has always told me, It's better to be asked up than to be asked down.

Now, I know I have been hard on Bey, but this is the last thing I'm gonna say about her. I promise (well, at least until she or "her camp" makes another ridiculous statement).

The next Wonder Woman?...I'm really fighting the urge to say, 'B**** please!' as I make the infamous boo-boo face.

Bey, I remember when you said your goal was to be the first African-American woman with a Tony, Grammy, and an Oscar and I truly admire your ambition but you're being a little audacious with this one. Calm down, honey. You're going to get your shine. You do realize you are not the only black female in Hollywood, right? Keep pushing your luck and you just might find yourself booted!

...But regardless of whether or not you get to strap on your Wonder Woman boots, Joe Camel Toe Z will always love you!

Sasha's Not So Fierce (Sorry, Bey)

Okay. I tried. I really tried!! I went to the store with every intention of purchasing the CD (I Am...Sasha Fierce). But after sampling the songs, I did not find it to be worth its price of twenty dollars (Wtcrap?!). I was very eager to discover Sasha's ferocity but I was just not impressed. I talk like this 'cause I can back it up....I got a big ego?....Maybe. Maybe not. Although I do admit to liking the songs, Ego & Hello, most of the record's content is empty.

Maybe I'm just sick of her tom foolery but there's something lacking. I think it's called authenticity. I can't help feeling like I've seen this somewhere before. Maybe if we go back far enough into the history of music and performance we'll find the template from which she "creates" these ideas. I don't mean to be hard on her because she is talented and all but she's far from original and maybe this is the reason for my frustration.

It all seems so calculated. I wonder what she does when she thinks no one's looking. Does she ever drop her guard. We've been fed this image of R & B/Pop Queen Bey. Now all of a sudden this Sasha character emerges? I realize that time changes things and people grow but there seems to be no connection between the two and that bothers me.

Who is Beyonce'? Does she just give the people what they want, collect the checks, and go home? Does she really expect us to digest this "alter-ego?" Maybe I'm just a cynical skeptic but I'm having a hard time swallowing this.

She says she wants to go from pop artist to icon but neither of these things can be forced. If you are meant to be an icon, you will be. Don't over analyze everything. I almost feel insulted. Her camp puts out these statements as if we (the general public) are supposed to be so foolish as to take them at face value. There is a underlying motive. I'm so very over the subliminal messages. My eyes and ears are open.

I know I must sound like the world's most paranoid conspiracy theorist but these are just my thoughts. They are not law. And as I wrap this up, I'd like to apologize to all the fans that are steaming mad at me right now. (Sorry!) I just had to get it out!

Zzz....Wake Me When It's Over

I'm a little bored with the men in my life right now. Although sweet, caring, and somewhat funny they are (one in particular), I catch myself dozing off and drifting away during conversation. I'm not sure if it's a regional thing or a race thing even but I need an Obama (meaning Change, not the actual person) ASAP!!!

He calls just to say good morning and once more to hear my voice before he goes to bed. But I wonder where his passion lies. He's so calm and collected, it can be annoying! I find myself provoking him just for reaction! (Silly, I know.) I suppose I have enough zeal for the both of us but it would be nice to get a rise out of him every now and then (and not the kind that makes his pants tighter)!

I met his mother and I meet the grandparents tomorrow. I don't quite know where this comes from. We're not committed and we've never even kissed but at this rate, I will have explored the whole tree before the end of the week! I understand being close to the family but geez louise!! Can you say, "pressure?"

C.R.U.S.H.

He's not quite as tall as I like them but stands above me in heels so, he passes--barely. He has dark brown skin to which chocolate doesn't even compare and shoulders broader than the heaven's scope....

"Sasha Fierce??"

Alright, let me start by saying that I do not mean for this entry to condemn or take away anything from anyone. I think these frustrations have been brought about by the constant presence of Beyonce (and her alter ego, "Sasha Fierce"). They seem to be everywhere I turn. Although she is a beautiful and talented woman, I am growing a little weary and I sometimes can't help noticing hypocritical tendencies. Quite frankly, I think the creation of this alter ego is a bunch of...It is possibly only a feeble attempt to camoflouge the not-so picture perfect truth that is Beyonce, the human being. Just in case, some of us forgot, she sleeps, eats, and (excuse my "French") shits, too. "Sasha" may be who Beyonce really longs to be but because she has dedicated her whole life and career to building such a "wholesome" image, she cannot fully claim Sasha's actions as her own. (Even her sister has stated that she always plays is safe.) If you liked it, then you should've put a ring on it. Don't be mad once you see that he want it. The song sends a warning to cowardous men and an empowering message to women but the video, on the other hand? Here lies the contradiction. Although the choreography is incredibly entertaining, I wasn't too spellbound to notice Sasha's crotch in my face. Thank goodness for the fabric covering her glory! I know I must seem like the poster child for judgment right now but these are just my observations. (It's my blog and I'll judge if I want to! lol jk) But seriously, we're feeling ourselves a bit much now, aren't we? And by "we," I mean Beyonce and Sasha. How presumptuous was it for us to assume that we should sing at the President's inauguration? Slow your roll, Bey Fierce! Let somebody else do something. Please? Your ambition is appreciated but I think it's safe to say you've had your turn.

And that's all I have to say about that...for now! I don't want the Beyonce fanatics to go all Sasha Fierce on me!

Oh! But the woman has a mean fashion sense though! I must give it to her there (her AND Solange)! As much as MTO (MediaTakeout.com, for those of you who don't know) rags on her (Solange), she makes fashion her own.

Speaking of making fashion your own, if I see one more woman wearing colored tights just 'to be different,' I'm going to scream!! Take the trend and personalize it! Everyone does not have the legs for tights and wearing all black does not justify a grown woman (I mean, 35+) in hot pink tights! C'mon! What is that about?

Okay, now I'm done!

The Phone

Look! I tried not to say anything but why must you answer that thing every time it rings? I understand that we are not exclusive and it's hard to ignore its constant vibrations but if she were that important, wouldn't she be here in my place? Yes, I said 'she.' I know it's a girl because your voices changes and you don't call names. I don't care about the sex of your callers though. Just hang up or take her to your favorite restaurant. Either way, you don't need me.

How 'bout this? I am an only child (well, sort of). I want my attention! So, put it down, step away, and pay up!

Accepta-phobia

As I was sitting in the big chair staring at the plaques and degrees on the wall, I realized I was doing it again. This is a pattern. It's no different from me telling everyone I wanted to major in Biology and become a doctor when I graduated from high school because it was the acceptable thing. It is just like the way I agreed to play for the church because it would have been unacceptable to decline. I always find myself making the acceptable decision only to later regret it--only in my head, of course, I would never let on that I am displeased with the acceptable. I like to pride myself on being honest and genuine but, here I am, lying to myself. If I try the acceptable and it doesn't work out, it's 'Oh. It wasn't your fault. Try harder.' But if I gamble on the not-so-acceptable and it blows up in my face, it's 'I told you that wasn't gonna work. You had no business trying that foolishness anyway. What are you gonna do now?!'

And that's a good question. What am I gonna do now? The beauty of mistakes is the lessons we learn from them, right? So, what have I learned? I have made this mistake before. Do I value acceptance more than my happiness? When those closest to (and around) me are not happy, it is hard for me to be happy but on the other hand, no one seems to notice my unhappiness. So. I'll pose the question again.

What am I gonna do now?

Live In Concert

After Maxwell's performance last night, my simple reality just is not enough. I didn't realize that was humanly possible. I was so engrossed in his performance at one point, I think I almost fainted. I know I sound like a groupie right now but I'll be that. The man is a beast! He puts all these other "artists" to shame. His range is ridiculous and his showmanship is out of this world! He did everything from splits, kicks, and spins to hump the stage. He dropped to his knees and put his falsetto to work. He came down off the stage (less than two feet from me) and I almost lost my mind. My brain was telling my feet to move but I was frozen. There's no telling what I would've done had I made contact. It just doesn't make any sense for one man to exude that much sensuality, masculinity, charisma, and just plain sex. In the same breath, it is more than just sex appeal. He appeals to your psyche.

He just made it that much harder for a man to attain my attention. I feel for the next guy that tries to approach me because I now, know for a fact that the man of my dreams does exist. I am not saying that Maxwell is the man of my dreams but a man like him would suffice. I'm sure he has his personality flaws just as the rest of us do but his on stage persona embodies everything I wish my man would be. I'd already promised myself I wouldn't settle for anything less than the man I felt was designed perfectly for me. But now I am sure that it is possible. There is a man designed in perfection just for me.

...And his name is Maxwell...lol I'm only kidding but wouldn't it be nice?

(Grumpy) Working Girl

K. So, I didn't get the new office space as was proposed. Instead, the server (that sat on my so-called desk that's really just a card table) will be moved to the storage closest and replaced with a new computer. Here, I can do all my grunt work free from the annoying inconvenience resulting from having to share a computer with my boss (who we will kindly call "Diddy"). I will no longer have to double dutch and engage in surprise attacks when he's not at his desk but don't jump for joy just yet. In lieu of my new arrangements, I will be required to sit at my fantastic desk, oops, I mean, card table (...wishful thinking) that is too high for the low chair that usually sits in front of Diddy's desk and work while he looks over my shoulder. I am so excited I can barely contain myself. And this comes on the heels of Diddy's partner's announcement that he feels I don't do enough for him. I so sincerely apologize. It is only because I am swomped with grunt work and Diddy's cheesecake that I have neglected your everso important needs. I will be there to make those copies for you ASAP!! I'll be there quicker than you can say, "Your Honor, I rest my case!"

Brother.

Your president is a man. Your president is a Black man. It is time we come out of the mentality that oppressors encourage. You can. Yes, we can. There is no measure of blackness. You do not have to be the image seen on the screen. Choose your words carefully and act responsibly. Pull up your pants and stand. It is time out for disgrace. We need our men in this place. Do not be afraid to be different. Believe in achievement. No one said it would be easy but difficulty does not spell impossibility.

Sister, take your man and be the solid rock upon which he can stand. We can not expect a man to be a man if we are not willing to let him be. Understand the importance of support. The balance of power and respect between a man and woman is a precious, fragile thing. Handle with care.

GA Peaches.

I am having a major attack right now. Every so often I experience these overwhelming feelings and no matter how hard I try, I cannot stop them from taking over me. I know you're probably wondering what the devil I'm talking about. I used to have a bad habit of leaving things open ended (like questions). The response could be just about anything and because of this, I have very little closure when it comes to my dealings with some of the guys I used to know. It's almost like small relapses. For the most part, I'm in recovery but every now and then something triggers a craving. And I could really use a Georgia Peach right now. Every time I see him, I relapse. I fall right back into place. It's like no time has passed. We're both well aware that things are different in our individual lives but it feels as though nothing has changed between us. I want to circle back so bad but I keep reminding myself that there is a reason he is black history. But...when I see him, none of that matters. I just want to be with him. I just miss him--period.

Somebody help me! I'm going through withdrawals. (Or at least this is what I'd imagine them to feel like.)

Blessed By The Marvelous Work (of God)

Today's Sunday School lesson hit home for me. There were so many points and ideas in the text that made something kick up in my spirit. Because I am so full, I am compelled to share. The lesson is entitled "Using Your Gifts" and it is taken from Ephesians 4:1-16. (Just in case you don't have a bible nearby or simply don't have one at all, I'll provide the text.)

Eph. 4:1-16

I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, With all lowliness and meekiness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love; Endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ya are called in one hope of your calling; One Lord, one faith, one baptism, One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all. But unto every one of us is given grace according to the measure of the gift of Christ. Wherefore he saith, When he ascended up on high, he led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men. (Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth? He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.) And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ: Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of teh stature of the fulness of Christ: That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive; But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him all things, which is the head, even Christ: From whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love.

If I Only Had The Nerve

First, I must thank my dear friend, G-Code for kindly doodling this lovely design on my foot. I've wanted a tattoo on my foot for sometime now but I am too afraid to get one. I know it would hurt like the devil. She (G-Code) has a tattoo on her foot. "It'll make you cry real tears." Those are her words in response to my declaration that I will one day be brave enough to endure the pain and get the tattoo that I have longed for.

I want a series of small tattoos actually. I would love the letter L in cursive for a few reasons. It would represent "Love." and "Latham." Besides, I just think the letter is beautiful. I'd also like the typical rose just because I think they're pretty and feminine. I wouldn't mind a treble clef because I heart music. (Duh.) And of course, there are my maternal grandmother's initials, M.E. She passed way before I was born but for whatever reason, I've always felt connected to her. I miss her despite the fact that I've never known her. This could be a testament to my love for her as well as myself. --Two birds. One tattoo.

I'd love to have that treble clef on the inside of my wrist (the right one for some odd reason). I want that L behind my ear. I'd like to have a rose on my hip (down my side actually) and I'll have "M.E." on the inside of my left ankle to counterbalance the design on my right foot.

But because I am the cowardly lioness, these ideas shall reside in my imagination. Until I grow some knots, I'll wear the temporary designs drawn by friends during moments of boredom at its best and wash them off in the morning.

Colorblock

Yeah, so I took one of those infamous bathroom 'in the mirror' shots. Hey, it was the only way I could get a full shot of my outfit with casual strolling up to my boss and politely asking him to take a picture of today's ensemble for my blog.

I just really loved the way my legs looked in these tights. (I love my legs anyway, for those of you who didn't know.) I love the black shoes with the black tights.

The basic black and the color splash of pink, I also love. I don't usually wear pink (or any color this loud, for that matter) but I had to add something to break up the monotony. I am also head over heels for the skinny belt. I think this is simply because I love anything that accentuates my 'new' waist. (I've recently lost a couple inches. Yay me!)

Nostalgia...Things I Lost Along the Way

I hate when I get like this. There are millions of words racing through my mind. I never know where to begin but I started this blog just so I could get them out. So, please forgive me if this post seems a little jumbled and senseless. These are my thoughts at the moment.

We all have our own family history that shapes us into the people we are. We are affected in one way or another by the things that have happened to us. We all develop various defense mechanisms and coping skills. I avoid with humor or I simply change the subject. These are only short term solutions so these things that I avoid only fester (and manifest in some other way I'm sure). I always find myself searching for meaning. I rarely ever take things at face value. I just always think there's more to the story. I'm not sure why I am this way but...I am. There has got to be a reason that despite the fact that I have all ten fingers and toes, 20/20 vision, hearing (though selective at times), and a few talents, I am not happy.

I talked to my father today. I hadn't talked to him since uh, I don't remember. I'm not sure how to describe our relationship (and I use that term loosely). I don't remember much about my childhood or anything else these days for that matter. That's also a defense mechanism/coping skill (or whatever you want to call it) that I've developed. I tend to forget the unfortunate or force it into "the sea of forgetfulness" as my mother would say. So, I'm not sure if the fact that I don't remember much of what happened to me before middle school means those times were so "unfortunate" that I've blocked them out of my memory or I simply have a bad memory. But when I see little girls with their fathers, I find myself feeling nostalgic. I do remember watching boxing with my dad. He would straddle the piano stool in front of the big screen and eat bologna sandwiches while I sat on the floor at his feet asking questions. I still don't understand the sport but every now and then, I catch myself watching it (boxing) or rather staring at the tv screen in a daze while I reminisce.

I also remember one of the times my (half) brothers came from Connecticut to visit. I don't remember how old I was but I was a young girl. My brothers may have been in high school so I was probably in elementary school (first grade, maybe even kindergarten). Anyway. They rode the bus so my mother and I went to pick them up from the Greyhound station but we couldn't find them once we arrived. I looked out of the bus station window to the Burger King across the street and there they were sitting outside eating burgers. I always seem to remember the most seemingly insignificant things. I drive past that Burger King on my way to work and I think about that moment everyday.

I remember dreaming. I went through the entire set of encyclopedias and "dog-earred" every article about whatever musical instrument was on that page. I read them all for enjoyment. I taught myself to play the recorder and harmonica just because--period. No reason. Just because. I don't know what happened and I'm only 23 but sometimes I feel like my life is spent. My dreams have been dreamt. But sometimes...

...if I try hard enough, I can remember...

...happiness.

Sometimes.Always.

The truth is...

i AM...

mean, unrealistic, impossible, and self-centered. sometimes. sensitive, over-protective, passive-aggressive, and sassy. sometimes. difficult, strange, and beyond different. (if you only knew what goes on in my head) sometimes. rude, careless, provocative, and proud of it. sometimes. reserved, laid-back, and bashful but not quite shy. sometimes. foolish, loud, and downright country. sometimes.

but...

i AM...

true to self. always. in love with love. always. acting out of love. always. & this way. always.

Daydreams About When...

So. I was thinking. (I do that from time to time.) I posed a question to myself. What are YOU going to do with this life? I always feel like what I'm doing (and have done) is not enough. I want to do a lot of things but those that could provide the funds to support the habits I've developed and the life I want to live include writing, playing (any one of the several instruments I play with the saxophone being preferred), and practicing law. I am studying for the LSAT and the next test date is in December. I haven't started all of my law school applications. I don't know why. (Procrastination is a beast!) I don't practice much on any of my intstruments because it gets me down. I know that doesn't make much sense at first glance but only one who truly understands how much I've loved music and playing would understand. If music were my guy, I'd say we've been through the wire. We've given up and try-tried again (repeatedly). He just won't do me right! But I can't let him go! So, I don't practice because it reminds me of the good times (and it hurts) but I love him (more than anything else)! Even listening to this jazz now supports my theory. Its kind of like I hear our song every time I turn on the radio but I just can't fight the knee-jerk tendency to turn it up. So, I torture myself with thoughts of what could have and would have...been given up on...the thought of just being a musician. In all honesty and fairness to what is true, all I've ever really desired in life is music. I could play all day, listen all day, and be a musician everyday. ...In my dreams... I wonder if I'm alone in this. Of all the things I have, there is only one I'd trade them for. Freedom and expression. No one can tell me how to play my horn and sing my song. That's why I sing when I think no one's listening and play when I'm home alone.

Listening to: "People That I Love" John Ellis (composer)

Because I wonder, I'll pose the question to you. What are you going to do with this life?

Ruffles & Houndstooth

Statement: Feminine, Structured, & Classy

Although my ring looks brown here, it is actually my favorite shade of red. I know it doesn't matter much but it just bothered me a little bit when I uploaded this picture. It's crimson, not brown.

I guess I thought I was something like a model. (Just kidding.) I admit it. I'm a wee bit vain. There are a few things I don't necessarily heart but I love me some me.

In addition to myself, I love this necklace and my lips. My mom teases me because they point downward resembling a frown but...

The Secret Life of Bees

I try not to cry in the same way I try not to get angry because once the flood gates are opened, it takes more than a little bit to stop the flow. So, I am proud to say that I made it through the entire movie, "The Secret Life of Bees" and did not drop a tear. Plenty gathered but none dropped. However, once the credits rolled, I began to feel like I should have cried. Sounds strange, I know, but it wasn't until this moment that I realized I could actually use a good cry. I really related to "May" (Sophie Okonedo's character). She is very empathic and although I don't burst into tears and song at the drop of a hat the way she does, I often find myself taking on the emotional baggage of others. I'm sure it sounds strange but there are times I enter a room and my heart just becomes heavy. It can be very overwhelming and I often blame myself for being too sensitive.

Because I can feel everything (or so it seems), I want to get involved in everything but the reality is, I am human and I cannot do it all. I'm never satisfied. It's an insatiable hunger and it leaves me undone. I know May's anguish and distress too well. I often disguise my affliction behind humor and sarcasm but those that truly know can see. When it gets to be too much, I retreat...

...and cry.

“Beware of the man who denounces women writers; his penis is tiny and he cannot spell.”
—- Erica Jong.



...Guys please don't take offense. I just kinda thought it was humorous.

DK

I usually don't blog about things of the "reality" kind but...I'm glad Diddy booted Aubrey! She needed to be checked. And D. Woods? I liked her in the beginning but have been turned off somewhere along the way. I don't necessarily think she deserved to be kicked out but...she's guilty by association, I suppose. I feel this way because it was becoming very hard for me to take them (Danity Kane) seriously with Aubrey running around looking like the 101st dalmation and D. Woods looking like a clown (that hair cut is just ri-DAMN-diculous)! I love Dawn and Shannon while I'm sort of luke warm about Aundrea. With that being said, I get this sinking feeling that in true "Diddy fashion," Mr. Combs is going to back peddle and let them back into the group for one last season of Making The Band. I can't help being a little disappointed for allowing myself to become so engrossed in this tom-foolery!! Ugh, I hate myself!! JUST KIDDING!! I love me some me! But I could do without Aubrey and D. Woods for a minute!

Caprice

Arbitrary thought. Capricious Being. Random activity. It's all the same. It's all me. These are the moments I love most, the people I love most, and the reasons I love them most.

~The End

Him Crazy...And I Like It

"What do I have to do to make you happy?" he said looking intently into my eyes while waiting for an answer.

I didn't have one but that was the perfect question. He listens attentively and studies my rhythm. He's quietly sexy, perfectly thoughtful, and never raises his voice. He's a bit sarcastic but because of my backwards sense of humor, I think it's funny. He initially avoids the question but later circles back. He's very conscious and I can appreciate that.

He is a man of few words choosing them every so carefully. We stand together in the silence of night staring into the sky until he says, "I adore you." He never looked away from the stars but he smiles and a dimple graces his face.

Dreadhead

She leaned in discreetly. "Um. Do u know him?"

Trying not to look around obviously, I respond, "Where?" while covering my mouth with a fork.

"That table over there." She nodds her head to the right. I hope he didn't see that, I think to myself. He was just out of ear shot but close enough to make his come-hither allure obvious. This would usually be uncomfortable but I actually admired his "balls." I chose to ignore him a little while longer. He's clearly an aggressor. I wanted to see if he'd go further to get my attention and if so, I wanted to know how far. (I was flattered.)

"Damn, do he know you?!" Obviously upset by my admirer, her boyfriend all but screamed,

"Shit!"

"Kareem!" She nudged him and gave him a cold look that could freeze the Pacific. "Be quiet."

"Man, I'm sayin'! He keep starin'! He makin' me uncomfortable! If he see something he like, just come say something." he relaxed and rested his head on the wall. He was slightly inebriated. I thought it was kind of funny so, I ate and giggled a little....

"Gia, are you sure your dress is down?" He was still attentively admiring and my friend had now hypothesized that he's eyeing my lady's place. I admit, my dress was short but I'm a lady. I know how to sit with my knees together and just in case, I'd draped my napkin across my lap. There will be no flashing of Britneys here.

He was leaning on the table with arms folded and an intense stare. Half his locks were pulled back in a rubber hair tie and the rest hung down his back. He was a little lighter than I usually like them but I loved his hair. And he wasn't as tall as I would have liked but there was something reassuring in his eyes.

By this time, we'd all devoured our late night meals and can hardly bare the weight of our heavy eyelids. We rose to leave. I went to move forward but he wouldn't move. My friend looked back at me and gestured towards my dread-full admirer. He beckoned for me. My friends disappeared and I found myself sitting next to the mystery man. Math was exchanged and that was that.

But, I know him somehow. He seems eerily familiar to me. I've seen his face and heard his name before. I just can't quite put my finger on it.

The anxiety was killing me. This had to be the longest ride ever taken by man! Finally, after almost an hour of staring at the trees alongside the interstate, we were there. A night out with the girls and I could hardly wait. We hopped out of the car stretching as if we'd been riding for days and made our way to the door. First stop? The bar.

All eyes were on us (or at least it felt that way) as we made our way through the crowd. Lights are flashing and music is blaring. The beat is pulsating and giving me a rush like no other. The bartender makes my drink just the way I like. I'm leaning on the bar waiting on my girls to get their drinks. I look over my shoulder and it's him. Admirer. His locks are hanging freely and his allure is just as enchanting as before. The room went quiet and everybody paused. We just stared at each other and then,...I snapped out of it.

We made our way to the dance floor and found a spot right in the center. There were parties going on all around us but we had one all our own. Oh, yes, it's ladies' night and the feeling's right! Oh, what a night! We danced in a circle as the guys tried their hardest to find a place. Some tried a little harder than others, some hung around a while providing us with great laughs (and stories to tell), and others took the hint and moved on. But the ones that were particularly persistent afforded us the best times of the night!

I asked, "What's your name?" He'd been standing in my peripheral for about three or four songs now and he looked familiar. (I guess I just think I know everybody.)

He moved in. I could practically feel his breath on my neck. "B.J. You from around here?"

"Yeah, something like that. What's B.J. stand for?"

His lips touched my ear lobe. "Big Johnson." I couldn't help laughing. By this time, B.J. had made himself right at home pressing up against me with his arms around my waist and Admirer was looking. So, I threw my head (resting it on his shoulder). I figured if he was going to watch, I might as well give him something to look at. I decided to take B.J. along for the ride and he didn't seem to mind.

A few provocative dances, drinks, Admirer's stares, and hours later, it was last call. I lost Big Johnson, threw away my cup, and made my way to the edge of the stage to relax my feet with the girls. Admirer was still holding down his spot at the back of the stage. During the night, he'd only departed every now and then to shake his dreads to the beat of the songs that moved him.

"Watch this." I said to my girl before I turned to Admirer who was being ambushed by a couple of girls that weren't remotely threatening to me. They saw something they wanted and...He didn't seem too interested in their conversation which made them look a bit lame because it seemed they were giving him their best. All the while, he was engaged in my glare. They tried and tried to jolt him but he remained unmoved and our magnetism only intensified. He eventually grew tired of their relentless efforts and broke the perimeter they'd made around him leaving them mystified.

He squated and leaned over. His locks tickled my back. In my ear, he said, "You're lucky I'm not the jealous type." His daring tone resonated. His lips rested against my face and my mind went blank--again. I looked up at him while searching for the words. I never found them.

Him Crazy

This is the knot I made with the ends of my hair. I know it may not look like much but I love the mess I made. Yeah, I'm prototypin' on my hair right now. Just in case, you didn't get that reference. I think I'm in love again. Let's do something out of the ordinary like catch a matinee'. Get it?

This is today's French braid. It's kind of crooked (intentionally) and the ends are wrapped and tucked as usual (I can't stand the way they stick out and just look like strays). I'm not sure where my sudden love affair with braids began but...This guy is strange, true, and different. He confuses me. I'm flattered by his candid outbursts. He tells me things I don't necessarily wanna know but at least he communicates well. His timing is time-LESS but I think it's kinda funny. In the middle of the story about his recent car accident, he blurts out,...well nevermind. That just might be t.m.i. I'm still stuck on that text message from yesterday. He says there's something about my voice and I love hearing that. He kinda blows up my phone but I revel in the attention. But every now and then, I wonder. Him might be crazy. He swears he tried to befriend me in high school and I blew him off. I don't remember any of this. I barely remember him--period. It disturbs me a little how well he seems to remember this seeing as how we graduated five years ago. I guess this could be considered a confidence booster but the analyst in me won't let me rest until I uncover the mystery. Obviously (well maybe not to you but trust me, Stevie Wonder wouldn't wonder), he wants to "know" me but...Either this is some of the best "G" I've ever heard OR him crazy! Or maybe I crazy. My top may not be screwed extremely tight but I don't think that's the matter here. I could be just so used to jibberish and jive.

Hair Today...Gone Tomorrow?

My hair has always been long and thick. It's been much longer in the past but I keep cutting it. I've been telling myself that I am not going to cut it again and I plan to keep that promise I made. But I didn't write to discuss past hair cuts. The last relaxer I applied did not take very well because (as I always do when I do my own perm) I did not leave it on long enough. So for the last few days, I've been suffering from 'My Hair Just Won't Do Right' Syndrome. I've tried to be creative in hiding my failed retouch by pinning up my hair in funky left field ways. This is the result of my mission impossible today. Although it's kind of hard to tell, I braided my hair into two "French" braids. I wrapped the ends together and pinned them at the nape of my neck. I wasn't really sure what look I was going for but I'm pretty pleased with the outcome. The front was blah but the back was my idea of a beautiful birds' nest. It looks messy yet, loosely structured. I love to try new things with my hair. I added a golden hair pin on either side to accentuate my earrings. They're oblong chandeliers with a single gold feather dangling inside. I despised them a little when I first got them. They were a gift from my aunt and they've kind of grown on me.


I know you may be wondering why I bothered to post this picture. I found myself wondering the same thing while typing but I simply love this wavy mess of hair on my head! Sorry if you don't share my enthusiasm. Now that I think about it, I'm a little obsessive about my hair. I don't let anyone else style it because I have a style all my own. Besides, I figure, 'Why pay someone else to do what I can do myself?' So, if it can't be done between me and my mom, it just won't be done to this "head of hair." That's what she [my mom] calls it. I'm clearly just rambling now while I wait for him to call me back. Yeah, that's right. I said him. I've got a new one. I won't call him my muse or T.O.N.Y. yet but the text he sent me today still has me pondering.

When we met, I thought heaven must have lost an angel 'cause I could see it pointing at me thru ur blouse.

Boggled is my mind. I'm not quite sure what that means and I think that's what intrigues me. I know they say curiousity killed the cat but the funny thing is, I was wearing a dress!!

Prototype

I'm sitting on a tall stool in a cafe' wearing a flowing, umpire-waisted strapless dress in coral that sweeps the floor. Two messy french braids meet at the nape of my neck and my nose is so far in a book that I'm completely oblivious to the world around me.

This is my Saturday morning in the city.

There are lots of things to do and even more being done. But none of this matters to me. I'm at the best part of my newest obsession, I mean, book. I love books and reading them even more. You can find me resting here, reading here, and writing here--religiously. This window seat allows for just enough light to illuminate the pages perfectly and just enough cover from prying eyes. It's almost romantic.

Diggin’ this energy and well aware that this will never stay between just you and me because I can barely contain myself. Here I am, head over heels, heels over head, and nose wide open. Mine prefers your scent over any other. But you’re unavailable right now so I’ll leave this message after the tone-- yours deep, rich, and resonating through the drums in my ear. The cadence heavy on the 808 and careful not to bust the tweeter--yet.
**Beep** I know you hear me calling, the inflection in my voice rising and falling. Intonation. Articulation. Modulation.
You study my instrumental melody. There are no words even close to my lips. But the sudden dip in my hips sends you to the next bar. This sixteen just as euphonious as the first. Almost reaching the pinnacle but not yet. Pause. Run the tape back, flip it, and turn up the treble.
This message is getting long. Let the machine stop. There’s no need for its technology. My voice coming through crystal clear and almost loud enough for the neighbors to hear--you playing my song. Tune’s stuck in my head--over and over again. No words. Just sound. Pounding the speakers and I’m riding the beat.
Far from ignorant of bliss like this and hooked on your refrain….

Nikki Wright (also known as "Ms Write"). Oh, how I absolutely adore her candor and lyricism! As a matter of fact, I was so in love, I hadn't noticed the waiter waiting on me.

"Looks like someone loves poetry." he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you. 'Voicemail' is my favorite." I uttered while holding open my captivator for him to see. I hated being interrupted but he was only doing his job so, I decided to keep my, 'Go away! Can't you see I'm reading?' expression to myself.

"Would you mind if I take a seat?" (Insert raised eyebrow here.) "I mean, unless you're waiting for someone. Are you? I can leave. I should just leave, shouldn't I?" He stumbled all over himself.

"Someone sure asks a lot of questions. Don't you work here?" I managed to get in between his questioning and second guessing.

"No. I just..." I missed a little because I was too busy feeling a bit like a dunce for assuming that because of his disheveled hair and all black attire, he was a waiter. "...You come here a lot?"

"Maybe." I didn't want to divulge too much. I don't know this guy. He could be, well, let's just say this IS the city.

"You must think I'm some kind of..." Almost an hour later, I managed to break away from his blue-green eyed stare and smooth but sort of raspy tone to realize. I think I'm in love...AGAIN!

Heavy...Had to Get It Out

I'm so flustered the words won't come out. No one understands but I can't clarify. Even I don't get it. He asked me why I sound so down, I had no explanation, and I didn't even realize I sounded that way. I go through this EVERY week. This is not healthy. Could the timing have been any worse? I was just beginning to accept what life had become. Why can't I focus? Distractions, distractions, distractions. This makes no sense. I just want to disappear for a second--tie up the nikes and run. I just want to go away. This is the first time I've ever actually wished I had no musical inclination. I resent the gift. (I feel so ungrateful for saying that but...) I feel like I've been mollywhopped with a brick. I didn't even see it coming. I just wanted to play-- nothing more, nothing less. I'm not even sure I want to do that anymore. It's never enough. If I do this, I'll have to do that and that leads to more of this. This cause effects me negatively. Everytime. I let the devil steal my joy. It used to be such joy. It was my hiding place but I've been exposed. I HATE ROLLERCOASTERS. I don't want to ride. I want off!!!

Shooter

Dates a rapper b/c he plays with words but chooses the drummer b/c he beats it up and stays in pocket.

Insufficient Funds

I love Charlie. Lord knows it's true but has been a thorn on my rose and I don't know what to do. He's aging and going through the realization of past mistakes. I wonder how he's handling this but don't have the whatever it takes to call and listen to his moans and groans. This is partially because I tend to take on the problems of those I love (and I don't think I could bare the weight of his) but mostly because I just don't want to hear it. I know that sounds harsh and uncaring but I am at a place now where I'm trying to surround myself with positivity and encouragement. I am not accepting anything else. And as I've said before, I love him dearly but if that includes my father, so be it.

But I can't help but wonder if I'm wrong in my way of thinking. I mean, he's my father.

Affairs of the Heart

Honey, I love...
These are my thoughts on love. I believe in love-- nothing more and nothing less. After all, God is love.
I love every day and every breath. For it is a blessing, God's gift, and I am thankful.
Love is a verb. Just do it!

Dictionary.com

The condition of being unmarried is considered celibacy according to my favorite reference websites. I find this to be very interesting because when most hear the word, they automatically think--no sex. It's as simple as that. To others it is abstinence from sex for religious reasons. My pledge to celibacy may be a combination of all these things. I am unmarried and upon reaffirmation of my religious beliefs, I abstain. Furthermore, allowing another into your existence is complex enough without further complicating things with the desires of the flesh. It is easy to slip but we must remember the purpose. I know we've all heard it before. Sex was meant to be shared between a man and woman after making a lifelong commitment to each other through marriage. However, nowadays, marriage is no more than an excuse to wig out and wear white after labor day. Ask yourself. What is commitment and what commitment have I made?...I asked. Although it has been months now that I have gone without, I recommit to the vows I have taken. I serve one God to the best of my ability in the absence of perfection. I promise to love, honor, and obey-- in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer 'til death do us part. With this ring, I thee wed; in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Ventilation

How come? I often wonder if this is what I've been asking for. After some soul searching and several nasty moods swings, I've discovered that it is--maybe. I've got to be more careful and specific in my asking. I asked to use my musical talent and I've been blessed to do so (just not in the capacity that I'd hoped for). They say God has a sense of humor and I'm almost sure He just might be trying to be funny. Only problem is, I'm not laughing. I turned to my trusty dusty mirror, looked under my nose, and I couldn't find the humor. Mirror, Mirror, on the wall who's the greatest of them all? I'm blessed and I know I can. I just don't want to. It always comes back to this. Everyone wants to project their expectations and add their two but I cannot stand imposition. When I need your advice, I will ask for it. That's how I feel about it. Just because I can doesn't mean I will. I can jump off a bridge but you can be sure that I won't be taking any leaps any time soon. So, just get off my back and let me be-- what I want.

To...With Love

Sometimes you only think you're helping. I'm not talking because you're not listening. I wish I felt like someone understood. Instead it feels like foreign language and time is too precious to waste. So, I'll preserve what I have. I can show you better than I can tell you anyway. That is all. Don't hear me. I tried to tell you. Look around and don't see me. You've been shown.

The Last Place You Look

So. I've been staring at my reflection in the mirror. I'm looking under my nose. I don't see him. No, I mean, anything. I don't see anything.

Battle Scars

This was my response to a blog post I read this morning. It's seems random and maybe it is but I decided to share anyway because I still think it's funny.


I pride myself on my ability to wear high heels on a regular basis and do it well (with the exception of the one time my beloved heels led me to the most embarassing/funniest tumble I've ever taken)! I remember it like yesterday although in actuality, it was almost five years ago. I was in undergrad and leaving class when I realized I left my umbrella. So, I, along with a friend, went back to get it. I suppose my feet got ahead me and the heel of my favorite Nine West shoes got hung in the cuff of my black wide leg pants. I stumbled for what seemed like twenty feet. I could not get my foot back on the ground to save my life! Finally, I gave in and fell to my knees but because of the momentum I'd built trying to regain my balance, I fell flat on face. And this was only AFTER my feet rolled over my head!! All I could do was lie there in utter disbelief. I could not believe what had transpired. And to add insult to injury (literally, I skinned my knee), my teacher came wobbling out of the building at what was full speed for her and yelled in her African accent, "My goodness! Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?!" At this point, I managed to roll over and I'm lying on my back in the middle of the passageway laughing at myself. My friend has just now caught up with me. While trying (unsuccessfully) to hide her laughter, she urges me to get up. Here I am, a grown woman with a skinned knee! Luckily for me, this happened during the lunch rush so the majority of the students that normally congregate outside the building were across campus at the cafe. But still in shock, I made my way across campus to show my "battle scar" to my friends waiting inside the cafe.

Quiet Place

Recently, I've found myself being quiet more often. Of course, I don't ignore people when they are talking to me but I don't initiate conversation much any more. I find myself avoiding verbalization, actually. I know that sounds strange at first but there's a reason. I prefer gathering information over divulging these days so, even if I can contribute, I refrain from interjecting (because the satisfaction of discovering the thoughts of others makes my silence worthwhile). When I do speak, I try to speak with purpose. As a matter of fact, to "be" with purpose is my self-improvement goal. This may not make much sense to those of you who do not know me but I often do things for no good reason (or at least I used to). I liked to say that I was led by "my spirit" but in actuality, I was just being careless. So, I speak less to give myself an opportunity to think, ponder, and consider. There are still times in which even after careful consideration, I draw a blank. These are the moments that I close my eyes and jump! (Metaphorically speaking of course. I can't jump around with my eyes closed all the time because then, people would think I'm crazy.) But it is here in my quiet place that I am able to hear His voice clearly. This comfort allows me to blindly take that leap and know there is a perfect landing. So, if you see me "be"-ing quietly, don't mind me. I'm just waiting for a word from God.

The "Fighting" Temptations

I'm singin' again...Papa was a rolling stone. (Whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp) Where ever he laid his hat was his home. And when he died, all he left us was alone.

My papa isn't dead. He's alive and I won't say well, but he's alive and not sick. It's kind of sad that these lines remind me of my dad (whom aside from the little bit of resentment I harbor, I love dearly...I think). I, like what now seems to be the majority of us, have divorced parents and a slew (that's the word of the day, i suppose) of half-brothers and sisters. In actuality, I have one half-sister and five half-brothers. I often wonder why this is. Why couldn't my dad choose one and be happy? Was it him, her, or a combination of both? I know why my parents split (or at least my mother's side of the story) but what about the others? What is this epidemic sweeping the nation? Maybe I'll come back to that later....

I'm not sure I blame either of them but it is very unfair to me.

I don't know my siblings and I miss my daddy!

This Time Last Week

Singing in my outside voice It's Friday and I'm ready to swing, pick up my girls, and hit the party scene tonight! OoooOhh, it's alright! Mmm. So, get up and let this funky mellow groove get you in the mooood cuz' you know it's alriiiiigghhhttt!

That was a little Aaliyah for those of you who may not remember. (Lol) I got jazz personality, g mentality...remember? Hello, anyone? Okay. Nevermind. Anyway. I just came to say, 'Thank God its Friday!' I'm not so sure why I'm so excited but I feel encouraged today. About this time last week, I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I was beyond anxious about a slew of things that I don't care to detail at the moment. Maybe that is why I am so hopeful today--the absence of a house full of relatives kicking me out of MY bed and MY bathroom and the prospects of having my precious time back this weekend. All I need to make this day perfect is to find out the M.O.M. (minister of music) has reappeared. That disappearing act he pulled last week was NOT appreciated!! Talk about throwing someone under the bus. I was livid (which only added to my stress around this time last week). Even if he doesn't show, we'll be fine. I don't know how but that's the magic of faith. I must admit, though, that I am a little concerned because something just doesn't seem right. I can't help but wonder, 'What would make a man just not show up?' I mean, he knew he was going to absent so he could have at least put someone else in place. And I suppose the deacs didn't see fit to acknowledge this early on. The last minute is the best minute! I loathe (I'm trying to stop using the word "hate" for some odd reason) procrastination. Okay, well maybe I'm a little guilty of it myself but do NOT ask me to do something so labor intensive at the last minute! I take music and playing (especially for churches) very seriously because I view it as God's work. So, them having such blatant disregard for my time and energy really upset me! I thought I was over it but I notice a pattern and that upsets me even more. I do not work well under these conditions and it's very hard for me to hold my peace. So,...somebody please hold my mule while I shout!!!

Trade Winds

I'm in love with my new shirt! I shop with an ideal in mind. I go into the store looking for whatever matches the outfit in my head and today, I found it! The store is called Trade Winds and I have been trying to catch it open for weeks. It's closed by the time I get off, I can never get up early enough to go before work, and for one reason or another, I never make it on the weekends. I left home a little early today and reached my destination (work) too soon. I had no intention of doing any extra work (because where I work, there is no such thing as overtime) so I traveled a few blocks down and found myself at Trade Winds. Upon entrance, I only saw what looked like clutter at first glance and I almost about-faced. I loathe clutter. Despite the feeling that something was going to come crashing down on my head at any moment, I made my way to the middle of the store. I paused to regain my composure. The amount of merchandise was overwhelming. I turned around and walked right into it. I pulled it off the rack, matched it to the image in my head, and carried it around the store with me (as I often do while trying to decide). To purchase or not to purchase?...That is the question. I saw nothing else and time was running out. It felt like the store was open just for me because there were only two people inside (me and the store owner). "I think I'll just take this one," I managed to get in between her random outbursts of thoughts that probably should've stayed in her head. She met me at the counter...And now it's mine! An Evan Picone blouse in my favorite color! I didn't even have to break a twenty! And I didn't have to stay all day! That's my kind of shopping! I'm going to wear it with one of my favorite high-waisted pencil skirts and I can't wait!

"Tony" (a reference to the song T.O.N.Y. by Solange Knowles; Haven't heard it? Give it a listen!)

I'm probably just obsessing again but I saw that "beautiful thing" today and I must say, that "thing" is still pretty cute. I'm trying not to get too excited but I wouldn't be myself if I didn't let my imagination run away with me. I don't even know why I lit up when I saw this and I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. But... "I really like T.O.N.Y." And I still remember so,..."I really miss T.O.N.Y."

Fat Girl

So. I play (usually not good enough for me but others seem to like it). I played my first Sunday in five years yesterday and I feel like a new person today. I feel as though I'm finally doing what I was made for. Obedience feels good! No more rebellion. Okay, that's a stretch but I mean, not so much. How 'bout that? It's okay to submit my will to that of Him (with a capital "H" meaning God, not some man). I still reject everything "mainstream" and so what if everybody else does it?!?! To hell with that! I think I may be getting a little carried away with this whole blogging thing but as I was saying,...to hell with that! There are two digits in my size and in the words of Ms "5head" Banks, 'Kiss my fat...' You know the rest. I don't really feel that way. I kind of just wanted to say 'Ms "5head" Banks.' I'm pretty durn cute for a fat girl. And even though fat ain't always fun while shopping, I don't mind the extra 'X' that much. And I fill out my clothes better than some of you "skinny b****es" (MoNique's words not mine). If you don't believe it, ask your boyfriend. Lol and jk (laughing out loud and just kidding, for those of you residing under rocks). I don't mean that either. Well, I meant all but the skinny b's part. Some of my favorite people are skinnies! I mean nothing by it. I suppose I just got carried away as I often do when given free reign. Um, can someone go over the concept of discretion with me again, please??

...I can sing, dance, and play five instruments (at least). And no, it's not because I'm black. Believe it or not, some of us have no rhythm and couldn't carry a tune in a bucket! And to add shock to injury, I don't really like fried chicken and I wish my parents hadn't been so creative when deciding on baby names. A simple 'Mary' would have sufficed. But being one of Charlie's angels isn't so bad. The whole constant mispronouncing and mispelling gets a little old but the confused expressions on strangers' faces at the sight of my name make me giggle a little bit.

Voicemail

...Kinda wish I hadn't written it. On second thought, I enjoyed writing it. I just should have let the inspiration remain anonymous but noooo, I just had to do it! It was fun and I got a kick out of it but now there's no more. The mystery of anonymity is non-existent. Just in case, you're wondering, "Voicemail" was written about the best sex I've never had and in one of my finest moments of randomness, I decided it would be a good idea to expose myself to...well, we'll just call him, "Muse." "Voicemail" may not have been the first but I'm pretty sure it was the last. I'm slighty confused because I'm a little disappointed by this. For who knows how long, "Muse" (or at least the idea of who I thought he was) had been my fuel. So, I guess this leaves me stranded and stuck on stupid. I should be used to this S.O.S. When will I learn? Luckily, I have at least learned to laugh at myself (sometimes while crying but laughing nonetheless)and the funny thing is,...now that I've revealed myself, he'll probably think everything I write is about him (kind of like, 'You're so vain. You probably think this song's about you.').

9.15.08

When they say "I don't know where to start," I always tell them, "Try the beginning." So, here we are. I created this blog with intentions to post entries daily (and more often than that, if possible) but I have failed to do that. I lack inspiration and my once active imagination is anything but. To make it plain, I just don't "feel" like writing. My mind is saying go but these creative juices just AIN'T gon' flow....well, not tonight....His song just came on. I can't believe that after all this time, I still give him possession. He didn't write a lyric or sing a single note but he is the only thought that comes to mind when I hear...It seems like a waste of my brain's energy to invest in the thought of what that "beautiful thing" could have been but "it" is still present in the forefront of my mind. Well, maybe not the forefront, just now because I am torturing myself with the tune of this song as my tool of choice. And it's gone...just as suddenly as it came.

5 wheels

So...in celebration of my birthday (that was four days ago), a friend and I decided to do something this weekend. A trip to the movies was her proposal and I (because I really would like to see the new Tyler Perry movie) accepted. However, while drudging through my last few minutes of "work," I received a call from her informing me that there had been a small change to the plan. Enter her boyfriend, a mutual friend (and her boyfriend). I am now officially the 5th wheel. At some point, I'm sure I'll get used to this seeing as how hanging out with other single women is slowly but surely becoming a thing of the past. Although I said it, I have yet to understand how this is truly in celebration of my birthday. Why would I want to be reminded of this cavity? I want to see the movie but 'To see or not to see?' That is the question.

9.12.08

Metaphorically speaking, I cannot stand rollercoasters. But that's exactly what I am. And that's unfortunate.