what's your worth?

someone said that i wasn't good enough for somebody else.
i'm not going to say that it hurt but it makes you pay attention.
are our flaws determinant of our worth? it's not a crazy idea, i mean look at the institution of prison. you ain't worth sh.t cuz you done f.cked some sh.t up. that's what they say. so in that right, maybe i'm not good enough for the person discussed.
but according to him, my worth lies in tiny moments that only he witnessed and i can barely remember.

apparently, one night we were in seven eleven and a drunk, white boy was stumbling around. after a brief conversation with him, i bought him a bottle of water.

now, the guy that i'm apparently not good enough for, said in that moment that he never expected a person like me to do something so compassionate, so kind or so thoughtful.

i guess i come off a lot colder than i actually am. but how are we to know the worth of another person? a part of it is seeing the beautiful things in them but another part is allowing ourselves to see everything, the good, bad and ugly.

chronic. and i'm not talking about the album

if this were like the real world, it's like im turning down amazing jobs for a dream job that pays nothing, overworks me and doesnt give me vacations. but it's my dream job but since i can't wake up, i cant have another f.cking dream!

this is the funeral of feelings

and i said, "because all i wanna do is fix this but the only time my mouth works is when it's pressing against his"

a b.tch is officially retarded

FUCK! UR MISERY MADE ME DROP MY FRIES

you have a moral obligation to betray your waistline and eat those fries. im officially a crackhead. 

yep he's ur drug. toxic

send me to the nuthouse

well you r in love with him please realize that

ugh. that's a stretch

that not even the most flexible of b.tches can complete

essentially u cant see this life u live without him 

and he needs 2 say something stop the quiet games and say something, good or bad

good luck trying to make a crab talk. 

they love running back to their bum ass nest

but you're like a mother bird your always right next 2 the nest no matter what

that just made me cry

ohhh sorry

lol it's more of an exhausted cry instead of sad

i wish i wasnt so loyal

or so dumb

i don't know the difference anymore.

or loved the person u feel u shouldnt love anymore

--end scene

this was a real conversation about an unreal situation.

junk food

i'm on a junk food diet.
and that's only because i consume you.
even though you taste so good and you get me thick in places people only dream of, you're going to give me a f.cking
heart attack.
seriously.
your voice glazes over my lips like donuts and you're like milk to an oreo, i melt the minute we touch.
you're like a hot dog with all the toppings, i would inhale you on a city street in a suit and sneakers
you're like skittles, i love you just the same in any flavor
and you're the type of snack that makes me want to lick each of my fingers after i'm done
one by one
reminding my taste buds that the rule about 'everything in moderation' doesn't apply to every damn thing
you're like marshmallows on a camp fire night
i have to squeeze you in between my...
graham crackers
and i swear, i'll keep our secrets like bulimics and toilet bowls
i'll put everything i have into you
hmm
and i stash you away in corners of me too afraid that if anyone saw me ingesting you, they would put me on a diet or realize how good you taste and refuse to save me some of you, whatever's left
and i keep walking back to the kitchen with these swinging thighs, wider hips and craving lips indulging in sweets that line the arteries that all lead directly back to my heart...
you give me a reason to keep living while killing me slowly
i can hear the doctors now, 'we're losing her'
but they don't understand, this is the sweetest way to die

raunchy might work for you.

have you sent naughty pictures? don't answer that on the blog. i fear for your political career. but the reason i ask is because with men and women logging in so many hours at work, we literally have to squeeze in time for our relationships.  at least if you're in america because in europe, leisure is time well spent. but seriously what once seemed so taboo is now the trend. sex tapes, sexting, all ways to keep the male mind, which is visually stimulated, entertained and intrigued.  even though i have been dubbed the 'prude' in my close circle of friends, well every circle actually, it is a badge i wear proudly.  i keep my 'over the top, completely vulnerable' goodies LOCKED away until i'm so deep in that relationship, i can't see my way out. and that's only happened once. so back to being a prude.

i do get all the hoopla about sending naked pics or raunchy text messages because they can always fall into the wrong hands. and i completely agree that the price to pay is often one we cannot afford. however, when someone is so deep into another person that they are willing to take that risk, is it really wrong?  are you really thinking about the repercussions then? for instance, what if the person u love is four states away? he's at work, she's at work. both of y'all are trying to remain monogamous and interested. what do you do? suddenly a picture in your panties is not so bad. and then another picture and another until you're sure that he's going to sleep with your breasts, hips and ass on his mind. everyone knows a stray dog is simply a hungry one. feed him and he'll come back home.  so if you resort to raunchy communication to maintain communication, i'm not mad because someone said that 'love is giving someone everything they need to destroy and trusting that they won't.'

rome and its ruins

and another thing.

someone said, "rome wasn't built in one day."
someone else said, "if you build it, they will come."

if that wasn't one of the most memorable quotes i've heard, i don't know what is.  if you go through the blog, it's rare that i quote other people. it's not because i don't like what other people say but it's even more rare that i'm impressed or moved by something, sometimes both. but this dialogue struck me. it stuck to me actually. and of course it put me in the mindset of relationships. i don't even know why relationships have been on my mind so much lately considering i'm in too many and in none all at the same time. but i wonder, if i build myself to possess all the traits that i would like in a partner, will that partner come?

he bleeds me like sandpaper to dust
carving soliloquies out of chambers only canaries could sing from
he masters my woodwork like only a carpenter can
i swear Jesus taught him
i carry him till we reach the crucifixion
nails dug into the palm of our open hands
still taking what is being given and giving what should never have been taken
we seep into the blades of grass
serving sweat as dew
and blood as water
fertilizing mankind with divinity and diluting the divine with men
i can see heaven in his eyes even though it's hell on earth
and he holds me close, telling me he will rise in three days
between the ruins and the rubble
he will rise and historians will never forget something they never witnessed
the memory of him is more comforting that his presence
and i am wrapped up in his sacrifice
loving a man that man cannot love in the same way
i fall in the wake of his rising
too tired to keep believing and to blind to understand seeing
he walks on the very water i drink
the bread and water has become the flesh and blood
that no one considers cannibalistic because one man's death is ok if it'll save the human race
his divinity is his strength but even Lord knows, it's my weakness.

he said, she said.

i believe our communication [our meaning men and women] has got to get better. it's a constant tug of war with words between the two genders.  seriously. you guys...are the hell confusing. yeah i said it. your words and your actions are like distant relatives, only coming together for big events like family reunions and anniversaries.  other than that, rarely do they ever cross paths.  men, the ones i know and the ones i hear about fail to multitask.  if you're on vacation, you're on vacation. if you're at work, you're at work. whenever you're NOT with the woman in your life, you barely make it a point to let her know that you would rather be with her.  and maybe the truth is that you don't which is fine, take your space. but damn. can we get some acknowledgment? a text here and there to let us know that we've crossed your mind, that even though you're at work making the bacon that you would much rather be cuddled up with me. is that too much to ask? well if so, my fault.

the truth is, i don't know a woman on this planet that doesn't want to be acknowledged throughout the day no matter how busy you are.  and we get it, you're stressed out. [who isn't?] but aren't we the peace to your already stressful day? no? oh ok. maybe we are a burden. and maybe we nag sometimes. and maybe we get in the way. but honestly, we just want to love you, especially when you're stressed.  but who can love a man they don't hear from?  technology has to take part of the blame for this growing distance between us dating folks. between texting, bbm-ing, tweeting and whatever else is out there, it's so much easier to keep in touch but it's also much easier to half ass a relationship.  most of the time, it feels like you keep in touch with everyone else but US. and who is US you ask? US are the women who like you, are trying to get to know you, who loved you before face time, who put up with you before unlimited texting. WE are the women who fell in love with a face we no longer see and when we do, we hardly believe.  out of twenty four hours in a day, boys, seriously you can't take three minutes out to acknowledge the person you claim to have feelings for? no. well let me inform you of something. someone will. and that someone may not be someone she even likes, but that someone may like her. and his mere acknowledgement of her will easily outshine a text message from you that she hasn't even received. will she leave you? maybe. does she want to? probably not. but what's the point of staying if leaving feels the same?

to everyone, acknowledge the people in your life. and if you simply don't want to then please inform him or her that they have no place in your life. just be nice about it.

comfort food

i forgot to tell y'all how i ate a whole pint of ice cream. apparently boys can make you fat and crazy.  watch out now.

i don't believe you

i'm not usually worried if someone will like me. i'm more concerned that i won't believe them when they say they do. it's an internal battle.  so much so that, anonymous homegirl and i have decided that love is like a football game. i'm always on defense. so you can have the ball, or rather my heart but you are not leaving with it. you are not getting past me. and i didn't even give you my heart in the first place, but that's just how the game works. i'm going to hope for a turnover or make one happen.  either way, the game leaves you tired, exhausted and in positions you don't wanna get caught in when the lights come on.  oh and you're always hurting.

i've heard someone say they like me. it's probably a great moment of achievement for most girls but for me, it only gets me thinking about what's next. so he likes me. now what? and to be completely honest, i don't ever really believe him. and it has nothing to do with him for the most part. his actions could line up and he can keep repeating it but my mind, heart or soul, sometimes all three simply don't believe him.  is it a self esteem issue? eh. i wouldn't say that. i think i just want to make sure that you like me for something deeper than looks and good conversation.  i don't think liking me is enough security to just hand over my sense and my panties. that's just doing too much.  in fact, i can recall the moment i decided to believe someone when they said they liked me.  mind you, this was after months of talking and then more months of already being intimate. i'll keep the story short considering i've been long winded all day. we were at a bar with all of our friends and his last flame was there. she was really putting the moves on him, so much so that i might have slept with her that night just to reward her for her persistence.  however, he was not phased by her obvious come ons. anyway, we ended up going outside the bar to all catch some fresh air and he told one of our friends that i was his girlfriend and pointed to me. i followed his finger because i was utterly perplexed.  he said, yea you and he laughed. he then proceeded to tell her that he wasn't really feeling me today because when he woke up that morning, he had to search through the pillows to only discover i had left him in the bed to go to work.  cute. didn't know he actually thought about the other body in the bed that had laid next to him so many nights. who knew he could formulate a thought around my presence? that nonchalant behavior had me fooled. but that's still not when i believed him.  it was time to go home but he still had something [not someone] to do so i went to his house and went to sleep.  i must have been in my third dream when i felt him creep in the bed and put his arms around me and kiss me in my sleep.  that was the moment i believed him, that was the moment i knew for myself that he cared about me. it had almost nothing to do with him. but in that moment, that's when i put my guard down. that's when i started falling. after nearly a year of already dealing with him, i was ready to make progress.

so what is it that makes us so skeptical? why are we so afraid to fall? why is it such a foreign concept to completely divulge ourself into another human being? because we simply cannot account for another person's actions or feelings. we'll never know if they'll love us back or if they'll stay or if they'll hurt us so bad, that we permanently replace love with broken in the dictionary of our hearts. but then again, we'll also never know how happy they can potentially make us feel if we refuse to feel anything.

let's talk about it

had a few conversations about relationships these last two days, two with men and one with a woman. the two men are single. let's hope they didn't just tell me that to get into my self-indulged panties. and the woman is happily committed and has been for some time. each conversation led me to the same conclusion - that absolutely nothing is conclusive when the main ingredient is emotion.

conversation 1. monogamy!! my ears are already burning. we spoke about the probability of monogamy at this age and at this stage.  age meaning early - mid 20s and the stage meaning TRANSITION. first job, last year of undergrad or no job, sh.t is always changing at this time.  we've all heard of the double standard right? if a woman cheats on a man - that shouldn't f.cking happen. but a man is likely to cheat on you - so get that pint of haagen daz ready.  why should we have to prepare for a man to f.ck up? why can't we expect that he's going to remain faithful to one woman? well, maybe the reason isn't as coldhearted as we think.  growing up, men and women have been conditioned to do very different things and play very different roles.  there's an age old saying that mothers raise their daughters but take care of their sons. from day 1, i've been taking care of other people. by the time i was 12, i was in the kitchen, i was babysitting a newborn, braiding my cousins' hair, learning how to do laundry, manage a checkbook and somehow manage the social life we desperately want as teenyboppers. my brother on the other hand? it still has not been determined if he knows how to wash a dish or separate delicates from bedding, mind you i'm sure he has at least two degrees by now. education and intelligence aren't related like we are. anyway, men have been conditioned to acquire all the panties they can in a lifetime. from their fathers, to their uncles, to the men in the barbershop, they are trained to lust until love is the only option.  before they go to college, their given condoms and bad advice. 'don't get a girlfriend, wrap it up, and don't, don't, don't eat p.ssy.' complete morons. but when women go to college as bright eyed girls, we're told to keep up our reputation and our panties, no creeping, and find your husband. complete morons. how the hell am i gonna find my husband if he's busy snatching panties? but nonetheless, we listen to these rules and it sucks because there's no meeting in the middle.  the power of the mind rules everything we do. get in someone's head and they'll do the work for you, no matter how dumb the work is.  so when it comes to monogamy, women are competing with years of conditioning in the male mind that tells him monogamy doesn't matter. i don't care how good your sex is, a lifetime of foolish advice is gonna win, at least for now.  and if he cheats, it may not mean that he loves you any less. he probably wasn't even thinking about you when the infidelity went down.  and i know it doesn't ease the pain. but his appetite for new goodies has absolutely nothing to do with you and it never has. so stop beating yourself up. blame the guys in the barbershop.

i believe that if i love someone, i have to be willing to work around the mentality that he's been raised with. not saying, i have to put up with his lies or his betrayal [because i haven't] but i have to understand where he's coming from. why? because there are things that i do that he feels are completely unnecessary, even borderline foolish, but he just chalks it up to me being me and he doesn't try to rationalize it.  now granted the things we are conditioned to do, do not violate the terms of agreement in our relationship. maybe i do take two hours in the bathroom and maybe i scrapbook when i'm bored and maybe i cook cupcakes for my friends' birthdays but i never said i wouldn't do those things when we got together. but you, my man agreed to remain monogamous but now i hear you're f.cking so and so from up the street.  so what's the remedy? maybe i shouldn't take you seriously until you can teach yourself that what you've been taught is not conducive to a healthy, monogamous relationship that can and should lead to marriage, if that's what you're looking for.  so that's what i mean about working around the mentality, taking it slow until he catches up. because i've been conditioned to love one man, at least at a time, for my entire life.  now he has to realize that everything he's learned doesn't have to be the only thing he's learned.  monogamy is a habit that can be practiced once's he ready.  but for now, he's simply not ready.

conversation 2. broken hearts and what we do to avoid them. i'm the girl that will delete your number if i don't feel like we're making good use of it.  so that when you eventually do hit me up, i will be pleasantly surprised but also reminded that you are too inconsistent to be taken seriously. it's a proven method to maintain the balance between heart and mind. so, in talking with mr. anonymous, he told me that women are so guarded that we will only 'match' a man.  we will give him what he gives us.  so if he texts me, then i'll text him back but if he doesn't, i'll pass on being vulnerable.  i don't know if this is the majority of women or the minority but he got me there because i'm definitely guilty of it.  i will meet you halfway, to at least be polite but if i like you, which is rare, i might step it up. but let's not get too crazy if i don't know you like that. but then i asked him, aren't guys guarded? prior to this conversation, i thought that guys had their walls up ALL the time, like fort knox.  but mr. anonymous informed me that i had it all f.cked up.  guys PUT up their guard once they recognize they like you. which makes sense, why put the guard up if you don't give a f.ck about 99% of girls that come your way? ok mr. anonymous won that round.  but what he so clearly lost was the war with betrayal. somebody broke his heart and my guess is it didn't end so well.  not to say that i haven't had my heart broken, but the pain no longer resonates on my face. i can't say the same for mr. anonymous.  because men have been conditioned to do whatever they want, they never really grasped the point that women can do the same things. hence why when a man is cheated on, he thinks his grief is somehow deeper than ours. absolutely egotistical.  since women are designed to expect fault in our male counterparts, our betrayal is not usually laced with shock. one up for the women.

conversation 3. be vulnerable. ex-squeeze-me? i have the habit of dating friends. we're not going to discuss if that's a good or a bad thing but it's my thing. or it was my thing.  shacking up in that comfort zone means that i don't know how to date.  liking someone off of few interactions is like a foreign language to me - i don't get it and i'm certainly not going to learn overnight.  the pros to dating a friend is that you already invest in one another on a consistent level. he'll call or text, and y'all will hang out so when you start taking things to an intimate level, that's consistency will still be there because that's what he's been doing. there are no surprises. he called me when i wasn't giving it up, so he'll probably call even more now that he's had a taste.  there's no second guessing, there's no sitting by the phone. there's no wondering if he likes me and how much because he already does. i like the safety net. it allows me to fall in a controlled environment and if the relationship doesn't work out, there is a comfort in knowing that he loved you.  it doesn't make the pain easier, but it does increase its worth.  now creating a habit with a completely new guy, hoping that it takes off and that you become consistent pillars in each others lives? that already sounds suspect. will it really happen? will you see enough in me and vice versa to inspire this idea that i want you in my life a little bit more than the day before? who knows?  and that fear of the unknown can be crippling. so anonymous homegirl thinks i'm a punk. she's probably right. she told me that building a relationship from the ground up is the same as building a friendship. which i completely agree with. the only thing different between friendships and relationships is the lack of orgasms. however, when you're making a friend, there should be no ulterior motive. when trying to build a relationship [using that term very loosely] there is an ulterior motive, sh.t there's plenty of ulterior motives, i want to get in your pants! with all those motives lingering in the air, every moment is calculated and the sincerity of the conversation will be compromised at one point. so how do you know that the emotions you two are trying to sort out are genuine? you don't. anonymous homegirl says, 'take the risk.' i say, 'that's a big risk to take.'

all in all, no one has this relationship thing figured out. all we do know is how we feel. the question is if we're going to act on those feelings and potentially find something great or find something we wish we didn't.  how will you know from a few text messages if you've met your potential husband or wife? you won't. so if i had to give advice, which i usually don't, i would say, kiss him/her, hold him/her, touch him/her, do whatever it is that you have to do to find out if you can stand to live with him/her or if you can't stand to live without him/her. good luck?

single

hi. haven't ever started an entry with a hello.  when i'm writing, i'm usually talking to myself. i'm sure that's a psychological disorder but they haven't caught me yet so let me just rock out.  today, however, i'm talking directly to you. this is the beginning of a conversation. i've always wondered why most of you don't comment, but since i rarely ever speak to you, how can i expect you to speak back. so, my fault.

my name is, well that doesn't matter. they call me t lloyd. who's they? pretty much everyone. sometimes i can go days without hearing my real name and that makes me appreciate it more. so t lloyd it is. i just watched Aaliyah's diary on mtv and i know everybody loves her and so do i. my favorite memory of her was on my 16th birthday. it was pouring rain. and i was in the car driving with my dad to my little party and her new single had come out, 'I CARE FOR YOU,' also the album title.  i sang the whole song and i just fell in love with her right there. granted i had her other albums but it was that album or rather that song, that i started to connect with for whatever reason. and then three days later, she passed away.  but in watching her diary, her voice, both her speaking and her singing voice had such a calm in it that it seemed no storm could shake her.  i like that. in fact, i love that. and you know there's still a picture of her on my bedroom wall. some things never pass.

back to our conversation. are you single? and when i say single, i mean are you single without any emotional attachments to anyone? because i fear that we are running around claiming this single life but yet and still tied to another person which is plural, in other words, a couple.  why does it matter? because! how can i [who's never really single] enjoy a life that i'm not really living. yeah, i'm not cuddling up next to someone every night and yeah i'm not on the phone till the wee hours of the morning just listening to the hum of someone's breath but if in my mind i'm waiting on a particular someone to do any of that foolishness with then how single am i? how single can we be if we are ultimately tied to someone else? it's like black people claiming that we're free but minimum wage is damn near slavery anyway, so what definition of free are we really using? i don't even really know what the definition of single is. does that mean i'm dating? cuz i'm not. does that mean i'm willing to date? quite possibly. does that mean i'm not entertaining anyone? cuz i am. seriously if being single can be so euphoric like most men proclaim it to be and most women despise, then where do i fall? i'm not lonely but i surely do not have a desire to f.ck, suck or ride anyone that catches a second glance from me. fellas, that's all you. that's why you love the single life. because it gives you so many options. thick, skinny, brown skin, dark skin, long hair, short hair, double d's, c cups, tongue rings, nipple rings, your crib, her car, i mean i can go on and on about the options that the single life provide men. but for me, as a woman, in spite of all those options that i am fully aware i have as well, the desire just is not there.  am i afraid of the double standard? not really. if i want to do something or someone, i'm going to do it. the only number that should matter to you is my phone number, anything else is my business. me and my vagina made a pact a long time ago.  i keep her secrets, she keeps mine. and never come between a woman and her vagina [no pun intended].  anyway, what is single to you? do you enjoy it? what do you do with the time? are you rejuvenating from the last relationship or are you preparing for the next? or are you just sleeping around until you find someone that makes you want to give it to them more than once? are you celibate during this single-ness? or is single simply a state of mind and not action? can we f.ck without loving? can we sleep with someone without our emotions? is that what makes us single? or is single just us refusing to take into account another person's feelings and dashing away any responsibility that our 'involved' friends have to take on in their relationships? this single sh.t got me confused because even though i don't have anyone to answer to, i still feel like i'm cheating...on myself.

mother nature

let me tell you what just pissed me off lightweight. a tampax pearl commercial starring serena williams [tennis superstar] with their tag line 'outsmart mother nature.' now come on.  nobody's outsmarting mother nature. i've tried. i'm sure every woman tried but mother nature was deemed a woman for a reason. nothing gets by her. let's just hope that every month [until you're ready of course] mother nature stops by and pays you a visit.  women? we like stability and consistency. let's not change that just yet.

official statement

i'm already shaking my head as i type this. i turned twenty four! twenty four. i don't even know what that means but it felt great, like the actual moment i turned 24.  i was on a city sidewalk in 5 and a half gold shimmery heels, with a creme colored, grecian style, one shoulder dress that barely met my knees.  hair, pin straight and down to my back with flawless makeup, there i was on a new york city sidewalk with people i knew, some i didn't and the urge to pee bacardi superior rum in the nearest bathroom.

and since i believe that the only thing a girl should chase is a shot, i had plenty of them. as i looked around at my entourage friends dressed in all black everything, i could see their sobriety slip away and their inhibitions released.  here they were, some of the most important people in my life, all intriguing, all intelligent, beautiful, handsome and willing to stand on this sidewalk with me.  in that moment, watching all of their faces smiling, laughing and having a good old time, i felt that choosing my cream dress had been the best decision i made that night. because i felt like an angel, blessed and willing to go with these people wherever my wings would take me.

every path i had taken had led me to this sidewalk to celebrate twenty four years of madness, happiness and everything in between.  and i was extremely proud of the woman i had become and the people that got me there.  and why wouldn't i be? there have been so many obstacles, so many nay sayers (that's the old school word for 'haters') so many times where things were just falling apart only to come back together.  so i was proud, counting my blessings or trying to at least, but bacardi is also a blessing that disables you from counting the rest.

that night i danced until music bled through my pores. text messages came flooding in from people i thought forgot i mattered a long time ago. some came in from people i forgot mattered a long time ago. and some messages came in from people that still love me, in spite of everything i am and everything i'm not.

you see, your birthday is unlike any other day. yes, we like to get 'chocolate wasted' and dance till the sun comes up but the truth is that the day you were born was and still is the day a miracle happened. somewhere, whether you like her or not, a woman laid on a table in the most excruciating pain known to wo(man) and recognized by the human race to give you, who was only a naked ball of humanity, a chance to become whatever you could in this world.  a woman put her life on the line just so you could have one.  a lot of people forget that 12% of women still die during childbirth. so in essence, your mother could have done everything wrong after you came out her womb but she did everything right to get you here. she risked her life to give you yours. so your birthday has always been special. you have always been special. and it is entirely up to us what we do with the life we borrowed from our mothers.

what did i do with my borrowed time?  a lot but i'll only name three.
1. i accept responsibility for all the f.cked up things i do (unprotected sex, ignoring sallie mae and breaking someone's heart) i've been known to do all three in the same day.
2. i went BACK to college (for my family) and chose a major that made a difference (for me).
3. in order to understand and appreciate my mother, i became one. (not saying we get along, but at least now i understand why we don't and why sometimes that doesn't even matter).

those are probably the three most important things i've done with my life for now.  hopefully there'll be more to come. anyway, what i'm trying to say is that i had a wonderful time on my birthday. of course i missed a few people, no love lost. but genuinely, i had an amazing time. not only did i celebrate the miracle of my mother being cut open on table twenty four years ago on a hot, summer day, but i celebrated the fact that she raised a woman that these people wanted to celebrate with. it was probably the best gift my mother ever gave me.

pictures coming soon. thank you.

tables will turn

it's so strange how you can hate someone you've loved, find someone ugly after you called them beautiful and disappear after you promised you'd stay.

the night is darkest before dawn

i'm existing on three hours of sleep hoping to clean the house while tripping over a four year old, go to the mall (for the second time) to find a clutch for saturday night and trying to forget all this just to have fun for my birthday. yes i have to concentrate on having fun.  i have to plan fun because otherwise i would just fall asleep.  i guess my body is sick of my antics because my eye is irritated like sh.t. bloodshot red is not what i need two days before the celebration.

the point is, i'm tired, pale and now i have a red eye. but i'm still excited. happy birthday to me.

get your passport

i’m from St. Kitts/Nevis. really Nevis. two separate islands. one government.  columbus stumbled upon us. bastard. first we were Kalinago Indians and we named our little space Liamuiga which is a vernacular description for ‘fertile land’ and a fair warning of our volcanic soil and high productivity. sounds a lot like me. check wikipedia if you think i’m joking. sometimes wikipedia gets it right.

anyway. someone came up with ‘Oualie’ (people still use the word to describe my land) which means, ‘land of beautiful waters.’ even with all these names, we still managed to get NEVIS which is derived from this beautiful spanish name ‘Nuestra Senora de las Nieves,’ the archaic (old school) version being ‘Noestra Sinora delas Neves.’  (that’s gonna be a tattoo soon enough on this body of mine) It literally means ‘Land of the Snows’ which can be attributed to the way our clouds look over our mountain tops.  though columbus got it twisted, the british called us ‘Dulcina’ which means ‘the sweet one.’ either way, the descriptive names of my island are pretty accurate or rather pretty, accurate and then some.  

i’m just saying if the people are (and i know for a fact that we are) anything like our namesake, we are beautiful, productive and sweet. and that’s really all i need to be anyway.

landscape

i want to crumble into you
leave bits of me as a trail for you to find me in a forest of impossibilities
i want to rain my sulfur on your dry lands and fertilize your thoughts
i simply want to mother your nature
and i know it's completely selfish to want you all to my self but i want you to think of yourself less and of me more because i got all of you covered
i crave your attention like addicts to billows of smoke
and slaves to masters knowing full well i'll do all the work with no pay
ride me up and down the cotton fields from sun up to sun down
you can reap whatever i sow
and wrap me up with the fabric of our lives
i want to bloom from your oxygen and breathe out bliss
i want to be the poison that kills you slowly so you live longer and i can die in your arms
because living without you is like adam without eve
even with the whole world, i'd still be incomplete
and so i designate my rib to you
actually you can have all of my ribs
leaving my heart open
chest exposed
naked like the day we met in the garden of eden
and i only ate that apple so i can die, come back
and love you again, maybe in a different language under the same sky
while all this sh.t is spiritual, i know it's biological
because my dna just wants some of your chromosomes
half of me, half of you, a big belly and we'll get someone new
don't you get it
you are the sun and i am the moon
i just want to mother your nature
and give birth to Earth.

pose for the camera.

so my sister i call her my sister cuz the word friend simply isn't enough wants to do photography. she's good too, really good. and no i'm not saying that because i love her. i am one of the most unbiased people you may never meet, if you don't already know me. thank sociology for that.  i've learned and i'm still learning how to separate my emotions from whatever i'm looking at. my job is simply to assess the product/problem/person and deliver my conclusion. the conclusion is she's good.  so good, she had a mini photo shoot yesterday and guess what her subject was, or should i say who? me...the one who HATES taking pictures.  but for her, i had to get over it. she took what felt like a billion shots, but after all was said and done, i probably only liked about twenty. and that's a stretch.  first of all, let me tell you, why i hate taking pictures.  i am very good at feigning happiness. mostly because that's what i want to be, so i pretty much fake it till i achieve it. my fear is that, in pictures, especially when i'm caught off guard, my sadness will be visible.  all it takes is a split second to see the truth.  i'm not saying that i'm completely unhappy with life. i'm saying that 98% of the time i'm indifferent. i leave the other 2% for anger and nowhere in that equation will you find real happiness.  i don't even know why. i think i'm so used to playing the role of protector or trying to make everyone happy that i've become ok with not being happy myself.  i'm fully aware that it's not healthy but i cope with it everyday.  when i'll deal with it? i don't know. maybe one day, i'll attack the true cause but for now i'm not unhappy. i just haven't learned how to be happy.  back to the picture taking. i didn't know what to do. my natural face is usually stuck on stank. if it's not that, then i'm smiling. the other face is somewhere between serious but should have been sexy.  the photo shoot was nerve wracking for both of us. here we were in the middle of new york city, with a photographer and no model, or maybe a model but with no direction. and i need direction. i'm actually very good at following directions. either way, we were missing some key ingredients.  somewhere in the middle of our adventure, we started enjoying ourselves, calling on specific memories that brought her out of her shell and brought out the emotion she wanted me to portray on camera. i can't really say if i did good or not, but i'm sure that she's going to make the photos amazing because that's what she does.  and what did i learn? i have a cute face, but it doesn't matter if i don't use it. smile with your eyes. thanks tyra.

the beauty studio

how important is your appearance?

very. i'm not gonna lie to you. when my hair and my nails are to my liking, i feel better and in turn perform better.  i don't know or care if it looks good to you but it HAS to look good to me.  i just feel like i was blessed with what i already have, the least i can do is maintain it.  would u have a car that you don't wash? or a cat you don't feed? no. (and shaking my head to those of you who said yes to those questions. what you own is a product of who you are so wash the car and feed the damn cat). anyway.  i'll admit that i have regal taste. i want the best and i always have. when i was younger and my family went out to a restaurant, you could order hamburgers if you want to, but me, i needed the lobster. i was born to win. i'm just saying. and why not?

a part of me feels that if i surround myself with the best then i can be the best because ultimately we are reflections of our surroundings.  this is not to say i haven't had my fair share of ugly. let's not forget i grew up in the south bronx. i know ugly. but i do not have to settle for it.  even with the background of dilapidated buildings and drug addicts, my clothes were always neatly pressed and so was my hair. thank you mommy.  and when i got older, my father always told me to 'dress for the position i want, not the one i have.' so since i want to be in a position of financial, spiritual and physical excellence, that's what i need to look like. hair done, nails done, everything did. it is not a game.

i don't want you thinking i don't have bad days either. i do. and i have plenty of them. but i've noticed that when i let my appearance fall to the wayside, my performance is next to go. i need to feel good to do better. and maybe that's just me but at least i know how the formula goes if success is the solution.

when my daughter was first born, there'd be moments where i couldn't remember if i took a shower or if i ate. one late night/early morning, i fell asleep at the kitchen table with a bottle on the stove.  my mother had to wake me up and when i did, i felt so terrible i just started bawling those crocodile tears that are anything but sexy. i don't even know why i was crying. maybe it was because i was exhausted either from having a newborn or not recognizing myself.  it was then that i decided, if i have to take care of anyone else, i must take care of myself as well.  to this day, i get ready before my daughter. just so she knows the expectations i have. if mommy brushes her teeth, does her hair and puts on her clothes, then guess what munchkin? you're gonna do the same thing.  do i want her to be superficial? do i want her to be shallow? no, not at all. i want her to be the best person she can be and it's hard to be the best when everything about you screams mediocrity.

all in all, i believe that we, as human beings do what we feel. there's a saying, 'hurt people hurt people.' and in most cases, it's true. so i think it's safe to presume that if you're feeling good, you'll do good.  and we all know that the world needs all the good it can get.

take it slow.

if you're know you're gonna do something, why wait?
probably because if you slow down, you'll realize you shouldn't even bother doing it.

oh philly.

i didn't have my computer for two days and i felt a little guilty.  hoping that no one was checking this website to discover that i hadn't been checking it either.  i had plenty to blog about too. so i'm just going to try to go in chronological order.

i got to philly. and it felt like i was coming home. the kfc/checkers resembled the outside of a cheap club with cheaper outfits.  the potholes knocked the undercarriage of my car. the temple T stood over the city like a horizon. but the most awkward thing about all these things was that it felt like i was coming home. and i was.  broad street had been home for the last six years. i grew up there. college was not only a series of firsts (like my first love or my first roommates) but it had been the place where i made some mistakes over and over again.  sometimes i felt bad about it and sometimes i didn't. i painted my first house. i heard shootouts. i saw fights. i got into fights. i laughed too many times to count. i had sleep overs. i had road trips. i had jobs. i had classes. i had friends. and after moving out three times (apparently i didn't get it right the first time) i was back in philly feeling like my marriage with this city still had too much love to really file for divorce.  granted, i've said i hate philly over and over again. but i don't mean that. philly was my refuge. philly was where i made a home and my own family. philly was there when everywhere else had turned their back. philly took care of me, granted it took its toll on me too but philly is the city i chose to give my best years to and when i look at it, i'm so glad i did.  but here i was again, ready to move out for the final time.  thinking if these walls could talk...they would tell that girl that her boyfriend spent many a night there. they would tell my mom that sometimes i got high to balance out the lows.  they would tell my teachers that of course i didn't study, but they wouldn't have believed i was naturally that smart. they would tell my students that i understood them more than i let on. if those walls could talk ... i wouldn't need this blog. trust.  but those walls can't talk and the secrets i've kept on diamond street will stay there right across the street from papi's bodega, right on the stoop where my man got DVDs! right on my windowsill that sat between poverty and opportunity.  i lived on diamond. a part of me even died there. but the most important part of me is still there - the block where diamonds live. i bow down most graciously, philly. thank you for having me. tears.

i had my infamous hummus platter. love it. over a conversation with some friends where we went over each other's problems. you can't stay faithful. you're too nice. you're living for everyone else but you. and i knew in that moment of harsh honesty, that even if we have a conversation about someone who is not present, we will always tell you to your face.  b.tch you got issues, we talked about it. you're in trouble but we're still here. and we love you and your god damn issues.  truth is the ONLY thing that tastes better than that hummus platter.

i miss tiffany. a lot. especially when i cuddle with melissa and jamira. (yes we cuddle) 

and one last thing. never be with someone just because they want to be with you.

eat, pray, love.

went to see Eat, Pray, Love starring Julia Roberts and written by Elizabeth Gilbert.  it was everything i expected and more. the movie is as colorful as gilbert's writing and the writing is the blatant mimic of life.  even the movie had some memorable quotes. my favorite line is "sometimes you have to lose your balance in love, so that you keep your balance in life." ain't that the damn truth?

we should not apologize for who we are and who we are destined to become.  we simply cannot apologize for the way we feel.  though i'd rather not hurt anyone, living for everyone else can be exhausting.  sometimes, we have to pick ourselves up with everything we own and leave.  and wherever we find ourselves, we need to stay there until we're ready to accept that pain is a natural part of growth.  and forgiveness? i haven't mastered that yet. but i plan to.

restless

the nightmares are back. which only means i have more time to deal with reality since i obviously cannot sleep.

side note...last night, mini me must have had her own set of nightmares. she came into my bed tossing and turning, but cuddled up right into me. like she was in my womb all over again. moments like those, i realize why i never traded being a mother for anything else.

crush

who wants a crush? no seriously. CRUSH. nothing about that sounds good.

back to the basics

i wanna wake up raunchy with you
hair tossed like a salad
back bent like indiscretions
and sweat wetter than...u get the point
i wanna wake up raunchy with you
scratches, bite marks
evidence of a domestic disturbance
cuz love doesn't live here anymore
and that's disturbing to whatever domestics we had
laundry, dishes, joint bank accounts and our children
but nonetheless
i etched my name in your back
while you painted my walls with your spirit
and since we can't afford to be emotional anymore
it's time to get physical
i wanna wake up raunchy with you
hair tossed like a salad.

don't let it be you.

i dig. so he dug.

beyonce's photo shoot for her upcoming House of Dereon clothing line. whatever it takes huh, B?

purple shirt and pink panties

i have a new favorite tee shirt. my brother let me wear it to bed and when i woke up i still loved it. so i brought it back with me.  it makes me want to buy sneakers again like when i was sixteen and my biggest problem was waking up at the crack of dawn to rock a ponytail and smile for my intense Italian cheerleading coach. [that was a run on sentence, now catch your breath]

i'm a lady of extremes, i'm either hot or cold. everything else just leaves me indifferent.  but every once in a while i come across someone that demands i walk on the balance beam that a middle ground provides.  anyway. he's smart. he has a smoldering glaze over his eyes.  he's tall. really tall. and if conversation was a war, i would lay a white towel down so he could lay on top of me and call the act 'surrender.'

it's a level of fragile comfort. a familiar face saying unfamiliar things.  and even years couldn't misplace intentions. so we rock back and forth between nostalgia and possibility, hoping the music never stops.

martyr

i'm gonna do this writing sh.t even if it kills me cuz that's the only way i'm willing to die.

bright lights

Love climbs in your bed with you at night and you can only hope that it’s still there when the sun is bold enough to shine.

rise and shine

just in case you thought i was cute ALL the time. pretty much i am...first thing in the morning. but that's only because of two things...genes and positivity.

on repeat.

i've been going back and forth with someone for FOUR years. and i don't want to anymore. you know what you can do in four years? college, have a kid going to kindergarten, serve in the armed forces, gain a lot of weight, lose a lot of weight...sh.t you can do a lot in four years and we've done little that pales in comparison to the aforemetioned examples. ::sucks teeth::
'i best tidy up my head.'

like a kid in the candy store

love and sex

met up with a friend yesterday. it was like a rejuvenation i needed. we spoke about shakespeare and sex or rather shakespeare in your ear while you're having sex. apparently it's amazing. we talked about the arts. he's an actor/writer/singer so it only makes sense. so basically, you're gonna see him, hear him and read his work - triple threat. but what's more important is how people view sex and love.

we discovered that you can be happy with someone but there can be someone who is your happiness.  and that right there is emotional suicide...it's going to leave you with questions, it's going to leave you with doubts. it's going to make you wonder if you can ever have a fulfilling relationship with anyone else.  i don't have the answer to that one.  but ironically, i had a similar conversation with the same friend about two months ago.  we don't get over anything traumatic. somebody lied to us and told us that time heals all wounds. nope. hell no. not gonna happen.

it's what we do in that time that may give us a chance at healing.  but honestly, we don't get over anything. how can you? how can you forget or disregard something that caused you so much distress that it was deemed traumatic in the first place.  the truth is, you don't get over it, you get through it.  time gives you more time so that you don't have enough time to dwell on it.  you get through it so that when that certain emotion is triggered, it doesn't handicap you from the rest of life.  for example, if your breakup, ok let's be honest, my breakup...when something reminds me of my previous break up, i've learned to get through it, not over it. some days i'm still mad, some days i'm bitter, some days i'm happy and some days i even think i'm still in love. but EVERY day, i behave like a woman who has moved forward, not on.  i can't control my emotions, as much as i'd like to but i can control my behavior.  so even if today i'm somewhat reminiscent of the relationship because i'm listening to trey songz new single, 'can't be friends,' (between this song and Last Time, trey could have written my book for me) i can stop myself from texting him. i can stop myself from behaving the like the woman who was in that relationship. i choose to behave like a woman in a better different place.  i can choose how i respond to those emotions.  and those emotions will probably never disappear and why would i want them to? if it was love, or that thing that was deeper than love but we're often too shallow to notice, how could it disappear?  i believe love is like energy.  it NEVER goes away, it simply moves from one source to another. i used to be a science major. all that energy i spent being mad or being in love can be used somewhere else on someone else but i have to decide to do that. i have to choose the next source.  and i can.  it will take time, it always takes time but it can be done.

anyway we talked about the dreadful topic of love but sex is equally, if not more, as interesting.  we talked about sex so good that it keeps you coming back in moments you don't expect.  you ever been pushed up against a wall while someone kisses you so deep that the wall feels like it's moving? you ever closed your eyes so long while you're kissing someone that it felt like you were dreaming? you ever kissed someone passionately that you can't remember what food tastes like? that's the kind of sex we talked about.  we talked about the type of sex that mixes itself in with love and suddenly everyone's a poet?  i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that sex can be as powerful as love.  so, the whores out there might want to slow down.  i'm gonna say it one more time because even i have a hard time believing it.

SEX CAN BE AS POWERFUL AS LOVE. that's why humanity depends on it.

he can tell you that he loves me.  if your eyes are good enough, you can probably see that he still loves me.  but you can't feel what we've shared. i can tell by the way he kisses me that he still loves. i can tell by the palm of his hands across my face that he loves me.  i can tell by the moment our bodies connect, that sex is the guilt of love, it is the expression of something so complex that you can ONLY feel it. i'm just saying that if we were as picky with our sex as we were with our love, a lot of things might fall into place a little bit better.  it's obvious, everything is a damn puzzle anyway.

alex rodriguez

alex rodriguez of the new york yankees recently hit his 600th home run in front of a true blue yankee audience.  he's currently ranked 7th in the history of major league baseball. amazing. doesn't it make you think what have you done 600 times, if anything?  are we even that consistent?  besides writing 600 words a day, as of recently, i don't think i've done anything that cool that many times.

oh! i'm pretty sure i've gotten 600 manicures. and i know for a fact that i've eaten at least 600 bowls of spaghetti.

you?

george lopez

the gunfire of revolution.

hands run over piano keys tapping on the ivory silk 

melodies sneak into the evening air tickling the skirt of the moon

car alarms hum as they wave to passing truckers

and stray cats tip toe toward any meal they can find

the night is young and immature

rushing its way to morning

scolded by the sunlight

we rise and fall to the gunfire of revolution

fireworks moan success

while gold stars adorn chests of broken hearts

limbs are locked in positions that feel best

and the spirit leaks out in each breath

this is the gunfire of revolution 

a change is gonna come

cain and abel

i had a dream about two of my brothers last night. one i love and one i don't love so much.  even in the dream, reality was mimicked.  when you spend so much time disregarding another human being's existence, even your subconscious is tired of their ass.  i watched the dream play and watched the cold interaction i shared with the brother i didn't love so much. yet and still, i fed him. i made him a sandwich. and when he left without saying a word, even in my dream i could feel the hurt. which led me to believe that it's not that i don't have feelings toward said brother, it's a type of feeling that hasn't gone away.  probably never will, not when a part of my existence is parallel to his own.  what matters is this...brothers were built to protect and serve, cops, please take note.   but whoever put brothers on earth didn't just put them here to play hide and seek with you or convince you that you were adopted.  they were put here, i believe to be the supplemental parent and the first example on friendship. however, their humanity often times gets in the way of their purpose and they end up being another puzzle piece in your painful picture.  just another boy to break your heart and tell you a lie.

that being said, i have a total of six brothers, some of which i like, some of which i don't and depending on what day you catch me, love is debatable at best.  we are not the perfect pair of siblings. we don't speak on the phone. we don't get together.  in fact, if we saw each other on the street, it might be considered a parade or a domestic violence case.  this is not to say that this synopsis is everyone's relationship with my brothers, just mine. it's my cross to bear alone, even with six of them, it's a cross to bear alone.  and no i'm not okay with that, but i'm stronger for  it.  sometimes our protectors will fail us but our strength will defy the weakness we feel if and when that happens.  we can keep growing, even when everything around us stops.  even when family becomes strangers and enemies, we do not have to engage in war.  sometimes, throwing the white flag is not a surrender but a call to peace. you haven't won but i haven't lost.

apologies?

i feel sorry for you and i'm sorry are two different emotions.  and i struggle with both of them.

in motion.

i've been avoiding my phone like the plague today. here's why.

his hands could be carpenters. sanding the edges of me into pieces of functional ornaments.  he builds me from foundations of dust and carvings. i am his rib. designed and placed over his heart with my own.  we speak in languages only memories understand fluently.  each breath is a dance to the melodies, stepping around the inhalation of our souls and the exhale of our fantasies. we move together. worlds apart and still somehow together.

just a thought

i'm not a poet. i don't levitate off my feet. in fact, i stand firmly on the ground if and when i speak.

love is my neighbor

i'm in the dark part of my creative phase.  i'm wearing a green shirt and white panties.  i'm listening to amy winehouse under pink lights and typing under bubble gum pink fingernails.  gold studs in my ear from h&m, and my hair in a twist. only thing on my face is my dior mascara.  sometimes a text message interrupts amy's symphony.  her voice is creeping through my speakers telling me that love is a losing game when just this week, i decided love isn't a game at all.

are you asking what my green shirt and white panties have to do with this? i like to give visuals.  i want you to see what i see, where i'm going with this and where this dark journey will take me.

he floats through my spirit like smoke through chimneys on christmas
i want to love him again but it's been so good not fraternizing with that friend i call love
we needed our space
so love moved out and i redecorated
even tested out some new furniture and pre-ordered some new ornaments
sometimes we bump into each other on the street
and there's nothing more awkward that seeing someone you've seen naked with clothes on
cuz all you can think about is those clothes off and the next thing you know they are
and love comes back in wishing friends could be lovers
 but lovers lie and friends forgive but enemies remain
and so i travel these sidewalks in search of a new lease
where love can only stay a few nights
so few, that it can't run up the light bill or eat all the food in the fridge
love is only a visitor, sometimes i borrow sugar
from love
to make the loneliness sweet again
and if white is the color of purity then these shouldn't be panties
because calling love over only means we're gonna do dirty things
filthy things
things you can't wash off in a tiled shower or scrub with christmas loofahs
love is a guest
that can only stop by when it's raining and there are no good movies on tv
and love is that guest that your stomach does flips for after they've gone
playing on a thin line of intrigue and familiarity
we know this too well but we don't know it well enough
we pretend well
laughing over mistakes and crying over the ones we were too scared to make
we, love and i are just friends
platonic platonic platonic
should never have a place in the dictionary because it's not even real
it is the illusion that kisses can be only words and sex can only be imagined
oh platonic you are the friend that writes in the honesty box about everything but honesty
and love?
you
you
you breathe me into shapes dancers emulate on stage and in the bedroom
you breathe me into moments i can't remember in the morning because i don't want to spill my cup of coffee thinking about how i let you take a sip the night before
oh love
we've got to do better
we've got to go our separate ways even if the puzzle pieces fit like continents
love
you draw everything out of me like a bank account in overdraft
got fees i can't cover and purchases i can't explain
oh love
you have me spreading myself too thin
trying to make myself feel good for all the bad you do to me
call it masturbating my emotions
all pink lips get wet
and if you could touch me the way i touch me when i go searching for you on sidewalks that stilettos weren't made for
then we'd be more than just friends
we'd be love in rotation cuz you got me in going in circles
oh love
you're an international flight that i could ride for hours if you promise to make me domestic
oh love
right there, don't stop, don't leave just stay for a while
stay until we work this thing out and stay until i become you, in you, all over you
love
don't walk away from something that you have to fall into
i'm so caught up in something that's supposed to be free
oh love
oh love
look what you do to me

my phone will keep ringing

emotionally unavailable.
consider this a tangent.
there will be days when you have nothing left to give.  today is one of those days. i'm literally exhausted from giving a f.ck and it's probably unfair to everyone around me. sh.t it's not right but it's real. i want to take a step back, erase some things and some people and start over.  and this doesn't mean i love anybody any less, it just means i love myself a little more.  at least for today.

oh and i think an angel called me the other day. she spoke to me. i listened. and i'm better for it, at least i hope i am. dead ass.