my abc's

so i was looking for a new challenge to complete and one fell right into my lap.  i visit @bhargette's page almost every day and it's an amazing read and not just because i know her in real life and remember when she first came to college versus the hot little woman she's grown into.  but right there on her page was the abc challenge.  like all the other challenges, i urge you to try it, you don't have to post it or send it in if you don't want to obviously but sometimes your answers are just as important as anyone else's.  here goes.


A - age - 24


B - bed size - queen without a king


C - chore you hate - washing dishes…like really. dis-gus-ting!


D - dad's name - Daddy works just fine


E - Essential start of your day item - a cup of tea. winter, summer, spring and fall. i honestly don't function well without one.  preferably vanilla chai.


F - favorite color - pink but really purple.  it's weird i know.  i like everything i own to be pink but i would actually wear different shades of purple or paint my room purple.  in fact, if i ever mosey on down the aisle, i would like for purple to be the accent color. we'll see how that goes.


G - gold or silver - gold. gold. gold. rose gold, pink gold, white gold.  i like gold but is it weird that i want my wedding rings to be platinum?


H - height - 5'2.


I - instruments you play(ed) - the piano.


J - job title - mommy.


K - kids - let's not make that plural. i only have one. funny i didn't see what K stood for when I answered J.


L - living arrangements - i actually can't even describe how much i love being at home.


M - mom's name - T. they call her Big T sometimes which is weird because she's smaller than me.  


O - overnight hospital stay other than births - are we talking about my birth or when i gave birth? or the time i almost died from an allergic reaction? or the time i had migraines so bad, i couldn't see straight? I'm here now though. that's what counts!


Q - pet peeve - pepsi. crumpled paper. dirty feet. attractive men. when the tv is on and no one is watching it. not remembering what color my underwear is. when it's raining but not really raining. like to the point where you look like an idiot if you have an umbrella up because it's not enough damn rain.  fruit & pastry. get that apple pie, strawberry roll, whatever it is out of here! bad restaurant service. who wants to be hungry and pissed? voicemails. peeing. a broken nail.  i'll stop now. 


Q - Quote from a movie - "Would it be better if she were black?" "No! It'd be better if you were!" Angela Bassett talking to her cheating ass husband in Waiting to Exhale.  One more. "God has a lot on his plate this morning." Regina King in This Christmas talking about leaving her cheating ass husband.  notice a trend?


R - Right or left handed - i write with my right hand and do everything else with my left.


S - Siblings - twelve. six of each.


T - Time you wake up - nine or ten am.


U - Underwear - i remember the color and it's pink.


V - Vegetable you dislike - i don't like boiled carrots unless Alicia makes them. 


W - Ways you run late - i'm not usually late but if i am, it's probably because i can't find something right before i leave the house or i mess up what i'm wearing. 


X - X-rays you've had - my lungs, my hand, my ankle, my neck, my cheekbone and lower back.


Y - Yummy food you make - i've heard that my shrimp pasta, my glazed ham and my eggs are pretty banging…but you didn't hear that from me


Z - Zoo favorites - lions and tigers and that's it. no …we can add cheetahs in there too. i'm fascinated with gorillas, monkeys, alligators and crocodiles too.


that was fun.

what's going on at home?

i heard on twitter today, "anybody's queen can get touched."  i also heard "ya'll n.ggas too cool to keep your main jawn happy is losing!!!!"  i definitely agree with the second statement, especially since i tweeted the same thing the other day but i'm still touchy about the first.  i'll get into that later though but the recurring theme in both statements is that when something is lacking at home, it can raise serious problems.  i don't know the reasons behind everyone's cheating but don't both statements suggest that someone's not paying enough attention?

to be honest, no matter how attentive your partner is, some men walk around like tall glasses of water and let's face it, some of ya'll are thirsty.  and for women, you can do everything he wants and give him everything he needs but a drunk moment in a dark place can make even the most faithful man turn into a cheating one. i don't have a list of things to do to stop your partner from cheating but i will say that i've seen some irreversible damage happen when a person feels unappreciated.  certain things in relationships can't be fixed but sometimes all a person wants you to do is try.  sometimes, ya'll are going to switch roles.  maybe she does call you all the time but this time she's mad, she's hurt and whether you feel it's logical, justified or neither, care enough to try and find out why.  i understand that men pride themselves on being logical creatures but there's nothing logical about emotions.  you're not going to understand every feeling we have but sometimes the fact that you want to try is enough to take us out of that sad place.  and ladies, sometimes you're going to want to yell, scream and vent but if he asks for space, move. though i feel like it's not fair that one person can avoid a conversation just because they don't feel like talking, it's also not fair to have a conversation with an inattentive audience.


all in all, these last few days have taught me, that love might not have much to do with what you will do for another person, but everything about what you WON'T do to them just because you know how much it bothers them.

what a broken heart feels like

my friend Raven wrote this on her website and it's so accurate that I had to share it. looking back on it, it's funny now. but back then? nah. not one bit. and i'm nowhere near this phase at all anymore but just in case there was any of you out there that felt like you were alone...you're not.  you will come out of it a better woman but be careful because 'better' and 'bitter' are only one letter off...


We've all been there. You have put your all into a relationship only to find out its one sided... Wait. Pause. Let me interject Kanye style & add my 2 cents into this. This whole concept of a relationship completely boggles my entire being... So caught up in the concept of titles and boundaries, allowing for a society even more cold & lonely than you are to dictate what your status is...
Sound Familiar?
You sleep together every night. You prepare meals for each other. You get pissed/sad/worried/etc when you don't hear from them at least 3 times before noon. You remind him of his mothers birthday. You consult each other about major life decisions. You will smack the bullshit outta any female that looks longer than 10 seconds (bitch I don't care if you are waiting for him to pay for his meal). 
News flash Ladies and Gentleman: You are in a relationship... doesn't matter if you changed your facebook status or not....
Now back to Ms. Sullivan...
We've all heard it all before like our fave home girl Sunshine Anderson spit it back in '01 (yes its been that long... yes we are getting old)... You put 200% in, he gives you 50% at best... You fight your mother, brother, anonymous home girl, and everyone else in your life that has common sense about why hes a good guy... then your eyes are rudely awakened to a text message, a facebook post, a picture, some random tricks draws in your bed (I watch too much Maury forgive me) to who he really is... & what do we do when this happens? We snap... we break down... we fight.scream.kick.throw up.burn.his.shit... (just saw Waiting to Exhale)... We hit our breaking point... now for Jazmine, that was giving this fool 10 seconds to get the hell out of her face before he could never live to take another breath...
Now is 10 seconds... too long? not long enough? too little too late? It's up for you to decide.
Chances are:
you witnessed.you forgave. you wished. you hoped. you fantasized. you hallucinated. you ignored. you wiped a tear. you took a shot. you rolled a blunt. you loved. you grew. you giggled. you laughed. you smiled. you cried... you lived & now you cannot find the will or power to live... you smacked the bullshit outta that bastard & kept itmovin... 
You call your home girls & over a few shots of Henney (maybe that's just how my girls roll), you toss your hair, do ya makeup, find those Aldo pumps you been dying to wear, and blast a new track: No Hands... Its gonna be one of those nights.
You wake up, you re-evaluate... Swear off penis & love (well maybe just love), & get ready for the remix...

unfinished stories

today is a crazy day for me.  my emotions are so scattered.  i'm going to try to tie it all together but i won't make any guarantees.  


first and foremost, i blogged about Amy Winehouse a few times before…check here and here for reminders.  i heard about her death on yesterday morning and i didn't even have the time to be sad.  but nonetheless, i am saddened by her death, as a fan but especially as an artist.  what saddens me most is that we will never hear the rest of her story.  we will never see her finish rehab.  we won't hear her recovery album.  we won't hear her voice about her anonymous lovers and her thoughts on love, men and melodramas.  her story is incomplete and as a writer, those unfinished stories eat at us the most.  


some people have taken the stance that we should not be shocked by her death considering she was addicted to drugs.  i wholeheartedly believe everyone has an addiction. yours might not kill you but it can stop you from living so save yourself first instead of being immune to the news of her death.  she was 27 years old with a problem that was bigger than her cure.  like any sickness, it chooses you.  that was her journey to face.  we will never know how and why she started drugs so share your opinion if you want but realize it's just your opinion.  there's a reason they're not called facts.  like any human being, i fear the day that no one can save me from myself.  i've never thought of myself to be above even the lowliest of things.  i don't know where i'll end up, i don't know who i'll end up under so i hope for the best.  when i see the worst happen, i am thoroughly shocked because i always want better.  needless to say, rest in peace to ms. winehouse. we are all vulnerable and it takes an incredible  amount of strength to expose that.  one of my favorite songs from her are below.

the sand

I have a father, whether he's good or bad is entirely up to me but I have one.  I know where I get my temper from, I know where I get my strength from, I know where I get this smile and these deep brown eyes from, I also know where I get this weird habit of eating bread all the time from.  I am my father's child and somehow being his child has stopped me from ever being a woman in his eyes.  He has never called me beautiful. He has never held my hand, at least not since I learned to cross the street by myself. He has never healed a broken heart. I don't know if this makes him any less of a father depending on what the requirements are but I understand that it could possibly make me less of a woman if I let it.  The thing with women is that we need constant reminders of how amazing we are.  So dad, you calling me the prettiest girl in the world when I was two years old does not last until I'm fourteen.  Even compliments expire.  If you ask men, they'll say, "Why? You know how I feel about you" or "I already told you this."  But the truth is, that we get knocked down more often than we get built up.  For every one man that calls me beautiful, there are seven that treat me like a whore.  For every one man that respects my position of authority, there are seven more that remind me that I have none.  For every one man that I believe in, there are seven more that have lied to me.  


Women are a dichotomy of sorts.  We are very fragile, yet we are also very strong.  When I say fragile, please do not be offended or mistaken.  I am not using the word 'fragile' to mean weak.  I mean that we are fragile like sand.  Pieces of us can slip through the cracks, melt away into the sea never to be found again or go home under the feet of men who will just wash us away.  Women remind me of sand.  We are all grains of different shapes and sizes being sifted through passing hands and sticking to bodies that only wanted to visit.  But the funny thing about sand is that it's the most resilient particle in this world.  Sand sits under the sun every single day, from the beginning of time and it never melts.  It never asks for shade.  It never becomes darker even with the stress of the sun on its back.  And the water?  The water comes crashing into sand all day and all night.  The sand never leaves.  It never shies away from its beating.  It never cowers behind a tree.  It never moves.  The sand sees the water coming and even in its fragility, it shows no fear.  The shore never walks away from its water.  The sand never runs from its owns tears.  Women remind me of sand.  When people walk to the foot of the water, they compliment the blue waves and they marvel at the flow and the movement of the massive ocean.  They're amazed by the water.  It's beautiful, they say.  But the very foundation they stand on, the very foundation that carries them to the edge of the sea to look out without being engulfed, they ignore.  They walk all over the sand, annoyed by its persistence to stick to them unless of course, they want to bottle it and take it home.  They dust off the very sand they approached.  They flick their towels to rid themselves of the sand and never once say Thank You for giving me something to lean on, for giving them somewhere to lay their tired bodies now exhausted by the sun.  Never once do they say, 'Wow, this sand is beautiful.  Do you see how smooth it is?  Do you see how it never retreats from stormy waters?  Do you see how I can lay into it and it would keep the imprint of my hands, knees and toes because it knows how unique I am?  Do you see how wonderful it is that I can make castles from grains?  Damn, this sand is amazing!'  No one ever says that.  But even without a compliment, even when people play all up in the sand and leave it there to return when it's most convenient for them, the sand sits right there, devoted, never with a broken spirit, patiently waiting.  


Women are like sand.  Whether you recognize our beauty or not, that doesn't take away from the fact that it exists.  Just like the water returns to it shores, a reminder as to why you come back is always nice.  To the fathers, the husbands, the uncles, the brothers and the boyfriends, unlike water, your return to my shores are never a guarantee so if you leave, never hesitate to remind me how wonderful it was to just be there in the first place.

here he goes again

i blogged about him before with his poem, What Love Is and then i saw this one and had to add it.  it's been a while since i've been blown away but i find things like this at the right time...





your bed smells like the last thing i was really good at. well damn.

take a good look

i don't know who your man looks like but ...you know what? let me shut up 

he's been handsome for decades now

i just added this extra pic of him b/c i know someone who would say the same exact thing about themselves

i left Jada in here because they give off that they appreciate each other simultaneously

the male body

i have never been intrigued by the male body.  though i know that some male bodies are amazing, i've never really loved the male body.  i was doing some research on same sex relationships and i went through countless accounts, pictures and dialogue about the male body. i was uncomfortable but i found my way through it (and why would i be uncomfortable about a body that i've clearly had some experience with is another conversation for another day).  now why was i doing that research in particular?  because homosexual men are way more apt to describing the emotions of their relationships than heterosexual men.  for men to already be visual creatures, they would seem to be the most likely expert on the male body with no interruption of machismo (for the most part).  anyway it got me to thinking. i feel like i'm always asking, why men aren't more vocal about how they feel about women emotionally but i have a new question.  


why aren't women more vocal about how we feel about men physically? do we pay enough attention to the male body?  is it that we're not as visual or we're just not as concerned?  we're about to get personal.  i've had one man in particular (that i know of) memorize every inch of my body.  he knows where my beauty marks are, what state my birthmark reminds me of, the curve of my spine in mathematical degrees, the lines in my hands and how many eyelashes i have on any given day.  i mean, it's truly remarkable how he could write a novel just about my body.  not only is it remarkable but it's also flattering that someone was paying so much attention or found so much beauty in a human body.  because i felt like men usually have a type of women they like, i forgot how special a body can be to them. none of us are the same, we're made up of the same parts but her hair doesn't fall the way mine does and my cheeks (the ones on my face) don't have dimples.  no matter the preference or the type or however many similarities we share with other women, we are so unique and much praise to the men that notice.


but anyway, as i went through all these materials on the male body, i started going through my mental rolodex.  i've seen some nice male bodies but have i ever memorized one? can i recall chiseled abs, square jaws, broad shoulders, strong calves, defined biceps and the direction of the grain from his beard? i won't disclose that information but i will say, that i in no way, shape or form have been reciprocating the attention that i receive for my body for the male body. shame on me.  whether we realize it or not, men are human and share the same feelings of self consciousness of their bodies as we do.  so if we're sleeping with this male body, the least we can do is pay attention to it.  and let me tell you, once you start paying attention, you'll start seeing things that you love.  he deserves to be wanted too. you want to feel like a queen? fine but recognize when you're in the presence of a king.

are we really crazy?

women menstruate. now that we've gotten that out the way, do you really think that it makes us crazy? irrational? frustrated? aggravated? emotional?


i asked him and he answered yes to every single question.  i'm not going to get into the inner workings of my cycle but it's like my period and i are in a long distance relationship.  we don't see each other often but once in a blue (or shall i say red? too much? i thought it was funny) once in a blue, it reminds me that i'm still a woman with a functioning uterus.  but because of this long distance relationship, i don't feel like i'm affected by it much if at all.  which is complete and utter foolishness because i still have an enormous amount of estrogen, more than the average female according to my gynecologist.  


but men apparently feel like we're completely insane with all of these hormones running through our bodies? are we? and if we are, isn't it within reason? i don't know how many women feel pain but me, myself and i experience a pain that makes me want to kill bunny rabbits with my bare hands. so excuse me if i am a little cranky.  you wouldn't be such a happy camper if it felt like someone was squeezing your testicles every five to seven minutes, now would you?  i'm more concerned with how men deal with us.  do they really think ignoring us is going to work? if you think you can get away from talking to me for a week on average, i will kill you sir.  you're supposed to love me through this, you don't put vacation time in based on my cycle. i think not.  don't you want to be the loving man that brings me what i want, when i want it and steps away slowly?  that might actually bring a smile to my face.  don't you want to cheer me up? i may seem angry but i'm really just uncomfortable and  work, children and responsibilities don't let up for not even one week while mother nature has her way with me. if anybody should be on my side, shouldn't it be you boo?


because i'm not on the receiving end as he says, i have no idea what men go through while we're on an emotional roller coaster but i would advise them to be patient with us.  we cater to everyone else every other time, so please just take into consideration, that it's not you, it's me.  i apologize in advance if i'm a little cranky but listen carefully. bring me vanilla ice cream with hot fudge and i promise, i'll leave you alone.

interracial relationships

one of my good friends asked me if i would be mad if he dated a white woman. he's black.  not only is he black, he's handsome, intelligent, athletic and ambitious. now before you go asking me why he's just my friend, that's just the way the cookie crumbled so let's not play matchmaker.  i gave him a quick answer because it was over text but yes i would be mad.  not mad at him per se. but more so mad that i know so many great women that are looking for a man like him and the probability of finding one just went down.  though i believe love is love and he should never have to justify his relationship to me or anyone else, i would feel the sting of it.  i would still feel like she wouldn't understand him in ways that a black woman could but at the end of the day, i could never know what she means to him, what she does for him and what he loves about her.  that's between the two of them and it's sacred.  because i love him, the ultimate goal is for him to be happy, not colorblind.  as long as he dates her because he wants to and not because he thinks she'll be better than a black woman, i'm fine.  and i say that because, as a black woman, i forfeited the right to feeling inferior a long time ago.

a black girl's kitchen

flat irons are like skillets to a black girl’s hair

and hot combs are frying pans sizzling the grease from our scalps

smoke billowing up from straight parts between fish braids

and no wonder the world calls us hotheads

my mother kneads my head like dumplings on sunday afternoons

in between her thighs, shaping my thoughts with her fingers

my hair ends up straighter than spaghetti and softer than her mashed potatoes

her hands dance up from my medulla oblongata and salsa their way on over to my frontal lobe

she’s combing my beliefs into patterns that will eventually spell out presentable 

and she’s brushing through years of ancestry of aunties with thick curls and grandmothers with with salt and pepper bangs

i’m in my mother’s kitchen or she’s in mine making something off the top of her head and off the top of mine

either way, flat irons, hot combs, skillets, frying pans and grease have always been a part of ancestral recipes

whether its fish braids or fried fish…

black girls never leave home starving.

we are a beautiful people

taken by @mzfixit85

one of my favorite pictures in the entire world. 

when's the last time you called a black woman BEAUTIFUL?

i have amazing men in my life that never let me forget that they think i'm a beautiful person inside and out. (thanks guys) whether i'm just waking up, running errands or getting ready for the ball, they have always reminded me of that little precious fact.  and because i appreciate it so much especially because they have a tendency to say it when i'm feeling anything BUT beautiful, i realize i don't hear compliments from other men to other women often.  


i asked a friend the other day, when's the last time he called a black woman beautiful and he almost couldn't remember.  now, i specifically said black women because i've noticed that black men have taken a liking, even an infatuation with non-black women.  they do not hide the fact that they think these women are 'exotic,' better behaved and works of art.  but when it comes to black women, women much like the ones raising them, it feels (and this is my perspective) that we have become the 'unappreciated default.'  now let me just say, there is NO ONE MORE EXOTIC THAN A BLACK WOMAN.  mothering mankind is the sexiest thing that's ever been done on this planet and whether we asked for the responsibility or not, it's ours and therefore it is our achievement.  so OWN THAT. and if u can't find anything beautiful about a black woman, well then there's your starting point.  and to women that classify themselves as 'other,' let me inform you, you came from our wombs, your ass is black too, but somewhere along the line it became cool to be something else, to associate with something else, so now we stand like mothers to embarrassed teenagers waiting to pick you up from school.  but no matter how ashamed you are or no matter how much you deny us, in the end we are always there to pick you up.  we are the blueprint and you cannot cook, look and behave like the blueprint without understanding that HISTORY NEVER STARTED AT SECOND PLACE.


now back to the topic, i just had to get that off my growing chest, (i told y'all i'm getting thick) why are some black men hesitant to call black women beautiful?  he said, that sometimes when you give a woman a compliment, she thinks that he's trying to get with her.  it can never just be a compliment.  now i agree.  some women are so accustomed to receiving compliments that everything feels like an attempt to get at their panties.  


ladies, stop it right now. stop it right this minute. first of all, humble yourself and appreciate that someone is coming out of their comfort zone and is having the courage to approach you about being beautiful.  the first thing out of your mouth should be thank you.  whether you hear it a hundred times a day or only once, you are supposed to be polite.  that's the most beautiful thing about a woman if you ask me. now if and when he tries to get your number, handle the situation as you see fit, however there is absolutely no reason that you believe you are ever TOO BEAUTIFUL TO BE POLITE. get over yourself. beauty fades. you may not have that face tomorrow.  but saying thank you to a gentleman is a product of your character and that's the only thing whose beauty you have control over.  your genes gave you those looks, don't get ahead of yourself.


now, i understand that it does get tiring when people are constantly referring to your looks.  i feel like when i walk down the street, i should just hold up a sign that says thank you because these men just have to say something but regardless i believe in manners.  do i think every guy that gives me a compliment is trying to get with me? no.  but i do believe that my reaction might spark enough interest for him to believe that not only am i pretty but i'm actually a nice girl, the type of girl he wants to sleep with get to know.  but you can decline in those cases.  'no thanks i already have a man and his name is Jesus' or just no thanks.  it's not always easy but someone taught me a long time ago "never lose your character for someone who doesn't have any." 


i digress. it's just strange and heartbreaking to me that young black men and women are so disconnected considering we're being raised in the same households.  it actually breaks my heart to know that the same black men i cherish and long for honestly believe that i'm a regular, run of the mill, just in case option.  and to add insult to injury, other men of other races generally love their own women and want to be with them.  asian men love asian women, indian men love indian women, white men love white women and spanish men, well damn they love their spanish women.  there's always exceptions but overall, i've noticed black men date outside the race more than any other race which would be fine if they didn't give off the idea that their own race was somehow 'less than.' 


love is love. i get it. i have no desire to tell you who to date and who to love, but black women are beautiful and we deserve to be reminded, especially from the men that know and can empathize with our struggle.  


to the black men, when the whole world turned their back on you and made you america's number one enemy, we still loved you. when they beat you, we cry for you, when they kill you, we still live for you, when they treat you like animals, we still raise your sons like kings and your daughters like queens, when they don't feed you, we give you what's on our plate, when they crucify you, we are at the bottom of your cross kissing your feet.  don't you ever forget some trees bear different fruits that you might want to try, but what is easily attained is quickly forgotten.  you can pluck any fruit, but you can never SHAKE THE ROOTS!

lean with it.

i'll post about the birthday party soon.

but for now…this is all i got.

talent i wish i had.

i can't draw. at all.

his, hers and the truth

i appreciate when someone tells the WHOLE story.  that means they're not afraid of their image, they're not afraid of being wrong, they're not afraid of admitting they've been deceived or did the deceiving.  and maybe it's the writer in me, but the entire story is always bigger than the characters.  now, some people think i write in an effort to purge myself of my feelings.  but i'm starting to realize that it's quite the opposite.  i write to feel, not forget.  although forgetting is sometimes what happens, it's not my intention.  the purpose of this writing is to admit to myself that things go wrong, that i am wrong sometimes, that i am right sometimes, that i still have questions and so forth.  writing has never been the end all, be all. it's the beginning - the beginning to the rest of our lives.  to tie it all together, when someone denies bits and pieces of a story, i wonder, is it to set themselves free or to hold someone hostage?


i'll be frank with you.  some of my close friends have asked me, how can i put so much space between myself and someone i care about.  well, people can be like fire.  we need fire like we need people.  but in all of our existence, we have had to maintain a safe distance from fire.  we've had to contain it and use safe doses of it and we've also had to run from it.  we've also had to admit that though we can understand fire, it can be completely unpredictable and any unpredictability can be dangerous.  


i've been known to put space between myself and people because i tend to hit the brick wall. though it takes me quite some time to reach the wall, once i reach it, i just want to tear that motherf.cker down at ALL COSTS.  but when i take a step back in that anger, i can see things more clearly, i can see all the angles, all the possibilities, i can see the worth or the lack thereof.  besides, i was taught to never pick on the weak.  and being strong with a sense of self is a gift and a curse.  if you don't respond to the weak, it can look like you're avoiding confrontation, it can look like you don't care enough, it can look like you're scared.  bullsh.t. at least for me.  it's absolutely none of those things.  if i do not respond, it's because the other person is incapable of listening and digesting information, is not worth the aggravation or the conversation has been had a few times before with no positive results.  and we all know doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the formal definition of insanity.  


now i believe in loyalty but it begins with loyalty of self FIRST.  if you cannot be true to yourself, it's hard to be true to others.  if you are not loyal to yourself, well then give it up.  how you feel about others is ultimately the reflection of how you feel about yourself.  i feel great about myself such that, i believe i am a beautiful, talented and loving person.  i know these things to be true.  but when someone does not know themselves, hasn't figured out who they are, that's a recipe for disaster.  they will search for completion in others so desperately that their self worth, their self esteem and their integrity will be compromised.  and though it is my job as a friend to be loyal, it is my job as (insert real name here) to be loyal to the woman i am and the reputation i've built, to associate myself with people of similar/higher standards.  i cannot and will not lessen who i am while you find out who you're trying to be.  


who some people want to be is not someone i want to be around and i have no fear in admitting that.  everyone will not be my friend, everyone does not deserve a favor.  so what if they smile? they might be laughing at you.  though i believe in assuming that everyone knows everything, that doesn't mean you should open your big mouth.  i believe in discretion.  i like to walk into a room and know exactly who knows intimate things about me.  if you ever lose count, you might not want to be in that room. i believe in leaving something to the imagination.  i believe that sometimes saying nothing is saying just enough.  

oh the rumors.

do not make up a story about me just because i won't entertain you long enough to give you one.


don't ask people to stand up for you when you'll fall for anything.


do not be deceitful to one friend and then be confused when the other friend has a hard time believing you are faithful.


do not trade in what is consistent for what is cool.


loyalty is a behavior, not just a word.


keep it 100 or keep it to yourself.


don't expect someone to talk to you when you have trouble listening.


justifying everything mean's you're not admitting anything.


apologizing and laughing don't belong in the same sentence.


if every sentence out of your mouth begins with I, then it's damn near impossible to believe you care about ME.


it's ok not to know who you are at different points in your life.  it's not ok to become everybody else.


it's not ok to blame the end of your relationship on the other person completely.  you were there too.


don't tolerate disrespect from anyone. and if you do, be as mad at yourself as you were with them the first time you realized it.

stop stressing folks

a doctor told me a few months ago when my migraines landed me in the hospital a few times, that it would be a shame for me to die at twenty four years old from stress.


never realized twelve could be midlife.

actions speak louder than words?

i disagree wholeheartedly.  and it's probably because i do this writing thing.  i hold such a value on words that it's probably insane to somebody else.  words should be genuine, carefully thought out and executed, maneuvered and sculpted to the person speaking them and hearing them and should always be from an honest place.  though most times, i'm pretty sure people don't speak with all of those requirements but if we did, actions and words would be held to the same regard.  


when i say something, i mean it.  i really mean it from the core of myself. whether it's "shut the f.ck up" or 'i'm not in love." but i believe that people have gotten so used to saying things they don't mean or hearing things that someone else doesn't mean that this 'actions speak louder than words' mantra has gone too far.  


you know why i think words matter so much?  because when you're standing at the altar ready to give your life to God or your soon to be husband/wife, people don't see what you've been doing for the last few years.  there's no videotape of how you went to church on your Sabbath or how you held his hand through cancer, they hear the WORDS YOU SAY, THE VOWS YOU TAKE.  you have to mean the words that are coming out of your mouth to create whichever union is supposed to take place.  if actions were so much more important than words, why the ceremony at all?


and another thing, people get to know God through reading the scriptures.  it's hard to say what God has or hasn't done for you because you can't physically grasp it, much less understand it.  you just hope that God has your best interest at heart.  but the Bible is written, it's all words.  words that you can literally hold on to in trying times, evidence that God has, is and will do everything in His power to bring you to eternal salvation.  if you want to believe in God, you first have to listen.  the power is in the word.  i don't know how we ended up in a place where words are not held to the highest standard, where contracts are more intimidating that promises but i believe in the power of words.  i believe that words and actions are two powerful forces that work together to bring us to higher levels in our relationships.  i don't believe one overpowers the other, i believe in the balance of equality and i want to believe in the things people say.  but more than anything else, i want people to mean the things they say because there should be no sound louder than the truth itself.

is sex the ultimate goal??

between  man and a woman, is the whole getting to know each other, talking on the phone at unusual hours in the night and going to eat foods that you already love like it's the first time you're having them for the specific purpose of sex??  now that was a run on sentence, but is it the verbal equivalent to dating? you go through all those loops to end up at sex?   and if the purpose is sex, why?  you can have great sex with way more people than you can have great love with.  so is the trade off worth it? all the conversation and courting for sex? are we putting our energy into the wrong things? 

and what happens when you finally have the sex? in addition to the conversation and time spent, what if the sex completes the entire picture and you end up liking this person? which wouldn't be a problem if you didn't jump in bed expecting JUST sex. or what if the sex happens and you realize there's not enough conversation in the world to make it better? all your hard work went down the drain with a failed orgasm and dry sheets?  

a friend of mine told me years ago, he stopped asking girls, 'what do you want' and he stopped answering that question when they asked him.  in all of my youth, i couldn't understand why.  that seemed like a very appropriate question so nobody ends up in a situation they don't want or have no intentions of fulfilling. but he made a good point.  he said, we don't know what we want.  he started talking to this girl with absolutely no intention past sex and he ended up liking her.  if she would have asked him what he wanted, he would have told her just sex and it probably would have scared her off, seeing that she wasn't that type of girl but because he was open minded with what the universe had to offer, he found a girl that was worth it.  she made him want a relationship.  she made him want to work harder.  she made him want things he couldn't imagine. 

so maybe we shouldn't interact with people with a specific purpose in mind.  maybe we're pigeonholing them.  maybe if we come in with just our wants, we may end up missing out on something we need.  maybe we can't put a limit onto what another person can give to us. maybe him/her has a higher purpose for our lives than just sex. maybe they're meant to teach us a lesson, make us fall in love, forget a past love, maybe their purpose is something bigger than we can comprehend, label or expect.  

sometimes we do just want sex, but let's try to understand that sometimes life brings us just a little bit more than that.

the 25th hour

beyonce.

if she's feeling what i think she's feeling, then that's how i felt on Saturday night at my birthday party.

indescribable. breathtaking. extraordinary.

nursery rhymes

love shouldn't be like humpty dumpty. you know the rhyme? 


Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the King's horses and all the King's men,
Couldn't put Humpty together again.


as a woman, i know men will break you into pieces that will have you scrambling in dark rooms with ice cream and self pity.  
one minute you're on a pedestal and the next, you're a tombstone where a pedestal once stood. i get it. 
the fall is sometimes so hard, you can feel your heart crack into shards of a dust once reserved for death that belongs in urns in the dens of older ladies you left behind
sometimes we fall so hard that the entire kingdom shakes and even the rumbling hooves of wild horses can drown out the sound of a screeching, scorned woman.  
and you don't just scrape knees when you fall 
you bleed from behind your ribs, you find scrapes behind your ears, footsteps of the lies he walked into your soul
tracking his dirt onto the concrete you once called your self confidence
man. the fall can be brutal.
it can even be deadly as your dreams try to resurrect themselves from the purgatory of living without him.
and it's funny because the fall is so fast, you can't even catch yourself
you can't slow down, you can't deny the inevitable
your fingers try to fight against the friction without realizing that friction is a fight in and of itself.
as your hands try to grasp what your mind cannot possess, your shell shatters 
while you are boiling with a fire underneath you that makes your insides harden
the fall is hard
and though it's fast, it's a long way down and a longer way up
but unlike humpty dumpty, the king's men can put you back together
piece by piece until you are whole again, scarred by your tumble but whole nonetheless
heroes come to damsels but first we have to admit we've been hurt before
we have to admit we've been disappointed and let down in every way but gently
we have to admit that we are vulnerable and have our hand out before our heart
we have to understand that we understood nothing and the road to healing is one step after being wounded
but i believe that love is nothing like humpty dumpty
love will put you back together again


humpty dumpty sat on a wall
humpty dumpty had a great fall
all the king's horses and all the king's men 
wouldn't stop until they put humpty dumpty back together again


find a king that stops his entire kingdom to turn a shattered egg into a queen

ranting

i could easily call myself a love poet if i believed in my own poetry and if i believed love conquers all.  but because those two ideas are as foreign to me as pedicured feet on Indian sands, i reject the phrase and embrace it all at the same time.


i get the feeling that people want to know why i always write about love in some shape or form.  i mean, what else is there? i almost feel like every emotion that we feel spills out of love, requited or otherwise, damaged or healthy, local or foreign.  to me, love is the epicenter and we are made whole in our quest to find the yin and the yang that probably doesn't exist, because after all love is a cycle, which means it's a circle, which means there is no visible beginning or end.


today is one of those rainy days, where panties and tee shirts should be the uniform.  and i really don't want to leave my house. i want to lock myself in this room and go over what's been on my mind…


like…what does it mean to say i love you to another human being? is it automatically unconditional or do they have to find out in the fine print? what does it mean to be in a relationship and be attracted to somebody else? is bad timing an indication of bad intentions? what does it mean to be in a relationship practicing for a marriage you're not even sure you want?  and what people call as contradicting, i believe i'm just exercising my right to change my mind.

some days i want to be in a relationship and some days i don't.  some days i feel like talking and some days i don't.  some days i feel like making love and some days, i just feel like waiting for that motherf.cker to show up at my doorstep with some groceries.  some days loving him and loving myself is a complete contradiction. but everyday, i wonder about the state of our relationships and what that means to us as women, professionals, mothers, sisters, daughters and friends.