I love ur "Bloggystyle"

Back in April, I was awarded the so cool, ever so refreshing, so right on time: Lemonade Stand Award by Pa Ibou a/k/a "A Brother in Sweden" and I have yet to pay it forward. Soooo...after reading some very interesting blogs as of late, I've decided to go ahead and show some much needed love to those who deserve it.

Here's how it works:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate at least 10 blogs that show great attitude and/or gratitude.
3. Link to your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Nominate your favorites, and link to this post.

1. First and foremost Ibou has a great blog: A Brother in Sweden. The half Gambian, half Swedish brother shares his experiences as a Brother living in Sweden (as his blog title suggests) with stories that are so intriguing, colorful and often sprinkled with music that I've never heard. His blog is very cultural, often filled with his views on the differences and similarities of Black America as it relates to his overall worldview. It's very interesting seeing how our people deal with many of the same issues we do across the globe.
2. Another blogger I've been following since his days of Myspace blogging is Chris Alexander. His blog: Colored Boy is filled with some of the funniest shyt I have ever read in LIFE. This includes everything from a story about how his roommates boyfriend/snake in the grass entertains another woman in her absence! I actually popped popcorn to read that one. He takes us with him on a photographic journey through NY with many magical tales of singing bums, the horribly dressed and much, much more...he's a talented writer with unbelievably funny sarcasm...check him out...
3. Okay...brace yourselves...today I stumbled upon a blog that was so juicy, so riveting, so damn good...that I read the entire thing in one day...Anita Taylor, author of blog: Don't Be a Slut...(you read right) writes the way I "thought" I had been writing and has inspired me so much with her tales of the hard knock life and survival of the fittest that it made me want to rewrite my entire blog. In one day, she took me through her teenage years, through her struggle in Hollywood and on their so called "casting couches" to a beautiful tale of love and loss with so much honesty and revelation. You must start at the beginning, her blog reads like a novel.
4. There is not much to say when it comes to The Field Negro. You will never have to watch the news again. The talented Philadelphia native (also practicing Attorney at law whose name remains anonymous) stays abreast to all things relevant to not only Black America but the entire world. His views are very legitimate and he writes from a logical and honest place, mixing in occasional sarcasm and wit. Not many can do that in the world of politics and still receive my respect. So kudos to him.
5. Mocha Momma...a school Principal takes us on her journeys through dealing with clueless parents, family life and womanhood. I love her blog, she's an excellent writer and takes her career very seriously. All I've got to say is...she gives me a new image of what my school Principal's were probably really like! ...And I ain't mad at her.

Hope you guys have an opportunity to go over and check them out. I know I was supposed to post at least 10, but I make my own rules in this here blog...plus it's late and I'm lazy.

I have so many excellent blogs on my list and I do have a lot. I am definitely a bloggaholic. So, I was thinking of inventing my own special award to hand out to others at a later date...I see many people take these blog awards seriously! Don't fret if you aren't on the list...If I have subscribed to your blog, trust me I read it and I wouldn't be subscribed if I didn't like it...

Will they.reminisce.over.you...

Death is an inevitable part of life.

My first thoughts waking up this morning was over my own impending demise. It looms over us all and although life is filled with so much beauty and countless distractions, this morning, I laid in bed and felt my stomach drop.

I began questioning my own existence, my purpose and my overall plan...here.

"...I need to stop slacking..."

"...damn...is he really dead..."

"...do we really have to leave?..."

"...I've got to finish this book..."

"...who would take care of my children when I'm gone?..."

While watching various networks replay video footage of Michael Jackson's performances, I noticed the faces in the crowd, the tears, the excitement, the screaming, the dancing... Everyone was celebrating Michael's zest for life, love and music. They knew they were witnessing a great beam of light and not only were they witnessing this light, they were basking in it. Everybody loves the sunshine. For this reason, people will pay an enormous amount of money and travel the distance...just to be entertained. The light is all we have to defeat the darkness. We live for the light.

My mother and I sat around the televisions, awaiting confirmation. Phone calls kept coming in and although my friends and family were accepting his passing...

..."I just need confirmation. I need to hear it from his family. I need to hear it from the Coroner"...

How do we keep someone in our hearts without knowing them? How do we feel as though we've lost a personal friend or family member without ever touching them?

Whenever a person makes his or her transition, it's a time of reflection, of not only that life of the person who has passed on, but of others who have gone before them. It is also a time to reflect on our own lives, those we love and the things we wish to do before leaving. He gave the world an extraordinary presence and energy that traveled down many family trees and sprung forth much fruit. Rooted in the hearts and minds of so many of us, Michael Jackson will live on forever challenging us to be the biggest stars we can be in our own lives.

I've watched so many reminisce over their fondest memories of Michael and listened to my mother talk about seeing him many years ago and only paying 7 dollars for a ticket. Celebrities have taken to twitter and other outlets and friends have posted their favorite videos. We will reminisce about him for many years to come. I just hope my life's existence is great enough that those who love me will reminisce over me...

at least for a little while.

Images I took at 2300 Jackson Street 6/26/2009

feeling.pretty.

nice. by Yourhynis featuring Chanel clutches

I've always wanted to do one of these. Whatcha' think? Can you see me in the juke joint listening to Billie & drinking Chardonnay? ::giggles::

the head banger.

So, I had been speaking with this brother frequently for a few weeks. We knew each other from High School, bumped into one another at a party (that I went to on a whelm) and reconnected after 13 years or so. I was a lonely stay at home mom, bored to death, and the only lovin' I was getting was in the fictional blogs I was writing at that time. The children had been getting on my last damn nerves and other than a few guest appearances from my handsome but egotistical "baby daddy/co-parent" who lived out of town, there was no telling when the next gravy train was coming through and my turkey was drying up fast. So, I decided I better go ahead and jump up on "it". He was always a rather big guy, but with my extra pounds, I figured his wasn't that bad. He was still very much handsome, nice, and the conversation was stimulating. Besides, I needed to get out of the house, kick this funk, and start meeting some new people.

He didn't short change me when it came to taking me out. He liked to have a good time. We went to some nice spots, never looking towards me to go into my purse, he would end the dates with a long, sensual kiss, and after lots of laughs and alcohol, we would call it quits. Then one day, I asked the inevitable question:

"Do you have a woman in your life? I mean...are you seeing someone?"

"Yes."

"Well why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know."

Unfortunately, I still found myself attracted to him. We had decided that we would be "friends" and that we would still hang out and he made a point to stop by and talk with me on occasion. I know, stupid, but at this point in time in my life I was desperate for some type of interaction with a man and it didn't hurt that he wasn't trying to get me in the bed right away. He even did little favors for me around the house and when I began a new job, he picked me up from work when I got stranded and dropped me off a few times.

Well of course, this only heightened my curiosity. So I decided to entice him with a few erotic poems and even invited him to become a reader of some of my erotic blogs. At that point, I wanted to get some, get laid, twurk somethin', get it poppin' (dot, dot, dot). I was slowly realizing that I was becoming a grown ass woman and hell, he was attached. This was going to be easy. I could turn him into a freak buddy overnight and still reap the benefits of getting out and away from the children when I wanted to. Simple.

After a few more weeks of dropping sexual innuendos and bringing up the kinky details of my girlfriends sex life:

"So what do you think about tossing salads? My girl tells me her man lets her do it to him all the time. I just think that is some nasty shit! Don't you?"

"Whatchu' mean nasty? I mean, that's her man right? They should be able to do what ever they want to each other."

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaayum. Not that I'm into tossing ANYbody's salad, but the fact that he was open to the thought kinda let me know that he was into experimentation and perhaps I could have some fun with him after all.

Chuch.

So one night, he picks me up and I can tell he's on his aggressive, I'm gonna give her what she wants, the good guys always finish last, so I'm nailing her to the cross act. I'm like whatever, I've seen this before: he stops at the liquor store, gets my favorite drink: Vodka & Cranberry, but he gets the Grey Goose, so I know he's not a really used to this. If he was a real asshole, he would've grabbed the Seagrams. He wasn't "that dude" but I let him pretend to be. I can dig a little role play.

We pull up to the nice hotel and he says, "Is this cool?"

I give him a quiet nod, act as if I'm a little shocked that he would bring me there and he proceeds to go and check us in.

We enter the room, look around, make ourselves comfortable and begin having a few drinks. The kissing began to commence, I'm in his lap...

and...

the brotha...

started to sweat...

So, I'm wiping his forehead, like okay...what the hell? Is he nervous? He gets up and says he was going to take a shower. I was freshly washed so I declined to join in, but as he was undressing, I began to see just how large this brother was. He was chunky as hell...thick, enormously round around the middle and his ass was wide and flat. I am nearsighted so I didn't want to be too-too obvious trying to squint to see if I could see exactly what he was working with...but I began to feel a little frustrated...

Ugggggggggggggggh! Okay, okay, too late to turn back now...I can do this...I can do this...besides, dude is a freaaaaaaaaak! I just know he's a freak....this...is...gon'....be....goooooood....

I started undressing quick. I got down to my cute lil' lingerie set and laid out across the bed on my tummy. {salad tossing position} When he emerged, things seemed to flow nicely, the kissing the rubbing, soon turned into licking, then sucking...and then I realized...

this fool got a lil' dick? Awwwwwh daaaaaaaaaayum....how is he gonna be that big....with a lil--damn.

I'm riding him, trying to latch my walls around something, anything, a knee cap, a thigh...and he's talking big shit. I slam my hand down over his mouth and roll my eyes. I'm pumping for dear life. Then he decides to do it...

He decides to flip me over and give me the worst head...that I have EVER had...in my ENTIRE LIFE!

People. I never write about my sex life. If I do, it's usually in third person, untraceable, and so good that I want to keep every moment to myself. I've been holding this in for too long and I don't care what people think. This should never happen to any woman.

So.

He proceeds to suck the life out of my clitoris. Now, at first I was thinking...{always thinking} Okay, this ain't that bad. His tongue was kinda fierce and I thought maybe, just maybe, if I couldn't get what I was looking for in the other department, just maybe, I could get it there. He sucked my clitoris so hard, that...I thought, I literally thought...it was going to pop. I screamed so loud, that I think he thought that meant it was feeling good. For a moment, it felt like he was biting my clit. As a matter of fact, I think he was...biting my clit! [Big, hungry ass, clit murderer was biting my clit!]

I was pushing his forehead with so much force and his big, thick neck, was so strong that his head didn't budge...

I was so done. He sexually assaulted the puss. I didn't know what to say or what to do. I couldn't look him in the eye. I was ready to leave. I pretended to enjoy it all. The best part of the evening was my favorite drink, which failed me because had I not had it, I probably would have used better judgment when I saw him undressing or even at the first hint of sweat coming out of his nervous forehead.

Get this: the next day, I wake up, clit is completely sore. I look down and it's RED... I could not sit down without feeling pain for about 3 or 4 days.

When I told him what he did, he didn't sound that sympathetic. Perhaps he didn't fully understand the extent of his inflictions. But needless to say, his ass didn't get any more of this! After THAT!

"Why haven't I seen you in so long ms. lady...."

"Oh...ummm...I was visiting relatives in South Africa..."

{I've never been as far as the Mississippi delta}

The moral of this story is...

when somebody is a suspected freak...

always...

ALWAYS....

ALWAYS...

ALWAYS...

get a second opinion.

until he beats you down.

It's no secret to those who really know me. I love my Hip Hop. So on a search for some old school MC Lyte, I stumbled upon this almost forgotten gem. It's no wonder why the whole thug loving, pimp smacking, ruffneck praising phenomenon is slow to fade and be buried alive where it needs to be. The 90's practically made thugs and false masculinity the "it" factor for young Black women seeking a mate and young brothers looking for "respect" amongst peers. I'll blog about this in depth later...just read this and let it marinate...

MC Lyte: Ruffneck (Lyrics)

(chorus)(x3)

Gotta what yo
Gotta get a ruffneck

(verse one)

I need a ruffneck
I need a dude with attitude
Who only needs his fingers with his food
Karl Kani saggin' timbos draggin'
Frontin' in his ride with his home boys braggin'
Lying 'bout the Lyte how he knocked boots last night
But he's a ruffneck so that's alright
Triple o baldie under the hood
Makin' noise with the boys up to no good
C low on the down low cops come around so ruffneck front like he gotta go
Evil grin with a mouth full of gold teeth
Startin' beef is how he spells relief
Actin' like he don't care
When all I gotta do is beep him 911 and he'll be there
Right by my side with his ruffneck tactics
Ruffneck attitude,the ruffneck bastard

(chorus) (x6)

(verse two)

I need a ruffneck
I need a man that's quick and swift
To put out the spliff and get stiff
Boxer shorts and everything is fitting large
But he don't gotta be large to be in charge
Pumpin' in and out and out and in and here we go
He knows exactly how I want my flow and that's slow
Never questioning can he get buck wild
He's got smack it,lick it,swallow it up style
Drinkin' a beer ,sittin' his chair
Hands in his pants fiddlin' with his dick hairs
He's a rudeboy,a raggamuf
Ready to bag another brother that he ranks ruff enough
'Cause if it ain't ruff it ain't right
And if he ain't ruff,well then he's all wrong for the Lyte
I love my ruffneck and ain't nothing going down
Or going up if my ruffneck ain't in town

(chorus) (x6)

(verse three)

I need a ruffneck
I need a man that don't snitch like a bitch
She'd tears or switch
Doin' whatever it takes to make ends meet
But never meetin' the end 'cause he knows the street
Eat sleep shit fuck,eat sleep shit
Then it's back to the streets to make a buck quick
Quick to beg even though gimme gottem here
Hit'em wit a bit a skins then he's out of there
On the avenue girls are passin' thru
Too much of ruffneck so they ain't havin' you
Hard boppin' always grabbin' his jock and braggin' about his tec
That's the rep he'll pull the plug on the tour
Pissin' in corners
Doing 80 by funeral mourners
Showing little respect
Now that's a ruffneck

(chorus) (x18)

....and we LOVED it! By the way....anybody ever seen MC Lyte with a man? Period? Ever?

stranger than fiction

There are times when my anxiety pierces my senses, my hands become clammy, my blood pressure rises, I feel stagnant as if I cannot move, I realize I'm not breathing. I hold my breath and I have to remind myself to inhale deeply. My anxiety often keeps me from living. My life has caught up to me. Knowing what I know and seeing what I've seen has made me somewhat fearful, afraid to take any sudden turns, and avoid any unnecessary detours.

This was a great movie. Not only did I realize how incredibly stagnant my life had become, I realized how it's never too late to capture a dream. Sometimes we just have to let go of the perfection, the order and the routine.

I don't blog to gain a following or to debate about my lifes issues with those who claim to be writers simply based on their ability to blur their truth within their own perceptions of perfection. Bloggers who use sensationalism and the lives of others to promote their skurred views without ever putting themselves on the chopping block always baffle me. I love going the extra mile, it's theraputic. So, I don't have any hit counters on my blog, counting the number of times people frequent the entire compounds of "black.girl.thoughts." I don't have any other tracking devices that capture IP addresses. I don't disable the links so that a reader isn't able to leave my site. I write because if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to breathe. I write because my life is stranger than fiction.

losing my religion.

How it happened...

Over the past 10 years, I've found myself on an in-depth quest for God.  This quest led me through Christianity, Islam, Judaism, the study of ancient texts such as the Apocrypha, the Book of Enoch, The Lost Books of Eden, Ifa, etc.  I got caught up in names.  The words: Lord and God weren't to be used but were misplaced with Yah and Yahweh, El and Elohim and the word Jesus wasn't to be uttered at all...that was blasphemy!  "There was no letter "J" prior to the 1600's...therefore the messiah's name was Yahshua!"  I would debate with people, argue up and down my way of life and feel as if God granted me some high authority to hurt feelings and destroy the image of God in the minds of others.  I wanted to know God, get as close to Him/Her as possible.  But as I've grown older, I wish I hadn't bitten that forbidden fruit.  There is something that I miss about being oblivious to the so called "knowledge" or "proof" of God's existence in all things, all religions and every path...the innoncence, the actual "belief" in things unseen, the discipline and most of all the...

Faith:

"Faith is in general the persuasion of the mind that a certain statement is true. It is the belief and the assent of the mind to the truth of what is declared by another, based on his or her authority and truthfulness."

I believe in God.  The force that prevented me from flying through the windshield during a car accident that could have taken my life and my mother's as well...is with me.  Some people call it "luck"but even I know better.  We flipped over 3 times and after getting out of the car and realizing it resembled a crushed can on all sides is when I finally accepted the fact that my life was spared and protected by some greater power.  We never wore our seat belts...my mother never took road trips...I was 14 and it took me 11 years before I got my drivers license.  People wonder why I drive so reckless, so fast, so furious.  I guess it's my way of looking death in the eye, saying, "Bitch...I ain't neva' scared..."  That fear kept me stagnant for so many years and even though I've gotten over it, there isn't a day that I don't get into the car and contemplate that journey as being my last ride.  But, I continue to drive because I have faith, that each trip won't be my last.  

The love of God is the greatest love affair, especially when we fully understand the nature of God is the nature of love, the nature of faith in love...and not fear.  I wonder when did man become so fearful of love, fearful of self and the possibilities that we could create just based on love and faith...

naps...

yes, his hair is nappy just like yours...well...kinda. ;)

you say she's just a friend...

I was the teenager who pretended to be sleeping in his bed when his mother came downstairs...
we made sure we were fully clothed and laying on top of the covers just in case...
taking $7 taxicab rides to his house
standing in the circle while he free styled on the block
wore matching gym shoes and airbrushed t-shirts with his name on it
curled up into a ball in pain miscarrying our baby
...my mother thought I was having menstrual cramps...
then a stomach ache...
passed blood clots chewing Tums...
the pain is vivid.
we used to talk on the phone until the Sun came up...listened to the birds chirp
hiding the phone underneath the pillows...whispering...
"If I hang up, I'll call you right back..."

I was the teenager who decided to let him go when I began to grow hips
thighs
breast
when I learned how to wrap my first weave
discovered tight clothing
retired my baggy Cross Colour jeans for "skorts"
became a car booty
drank mad dog 20/20, Boones Farm, St.Ides and finally discovered Hennessey...*cough, eh em...slaps chest*
broke his heart...
"I don't think you should be my boyfriend anymore..."

He was the gangster who remained still...
played his position...
sat quietly in the background
attentive as I talked about the jokers at the strip club
then
being a chosen child of Israel
how God changed my life..
watched each "baby daddy" come and go...
journeyed with me while contemplating spaceships
astrology
the existence of Jesus
then Africa.
15 years later...
watched the tattoo artist bury his name under another tattoo...
how many bricks he moved...
how many keys he had to other chics cribs
how his mother still remembers me
how my mother used to scream on anyone who called the house after 9pm...
and still does...
we laugh...hours go by

i still love you...
you still love me...
and we're cool with that...

you'll never understand the nature of our friendship...
what you call love is minimal
what kinda love won't let him go, won't let him grow...
you equate love with strangulation
wondering why he breathes my air

so no...you have nothing to worry about
and no...he doesn't cheat on you with other women....thinking::at least not with me::
and yes...I would tell you if he was...
and no...he doesn't still see me like that
and no...he doesn't have a problem with you and I being friends...

as long as you really think...you and I...really...are...friends...

notes from fb

"Hey Cheron, It has been a long time! I am just trying to enjoy life! I can't even remember the last time I seen you. High school maybe or when you still lived in Blue Island. I see you still got that great smile! How have you been? Those throwback pic was back in 94! I am suprise not to see you married, because you always kept it real and was one of the best looking girls I knew. I do remember some of the fights you got into when we got off the bus! You wasn't mess around back then. My guy ( you may know him as B- or D-) use to be in love with you back then. It is real nice to see you again.

J-"

cute. now this is what it's all about...the memories.

****Update****

June 15, 2009 8:16 PM

From my first love:

"Chey Chey OMG you still look exactly like i remember you. I still think of you all the time how are you doing? Man I remember you so much. LOL more than i should considering i'mmarried. LOL yes i am him. I was on here searching for you 4 days ago. God is so good. Ive been wanting to talk to you i miss you and i still have mad love and respect for you.

*****"

I literally cried with that one...I've been looking for him for a long time...Just yesterday, I thought about him being dead...such is life...

case of the ex..."jumpoff"

"you know you dun' fuk'd up right?" ~Menace II Society

***Update***

Since I have been stalked, contacted by the "young chic" who was briefly mentioned in this blog and she wishes that I would not discuss her in my blogs anymore...I've decided to "scratch out" (LOL) anything that may pertain to her specifically... 7/2/2009....

Recently, I "rejoined" fb (that's www.facebook.com) for the social network challenged...growing tired (frequently dropping out) of Myspace, I often deleted my page and found myself feeling paranoid about having friends lingering around that I couldn't connect with and vice versa (the internet is the cyber water cooler, high school reunion, summer picnic in the park, etc). But there is a considerable amount of drama that comes along with being too readily available on the internet. Many people from the past and present who wish to do you "grammatical harm" often frequent the internet and use it as a tool to bully and make pseudo threats that would more than likely not occur in "real life". But I digress, what I really want to discuss is what happens to women when they become disenchanted, disenfranchised, disheartened by the dick...yup...I said it.

Awhile ago, I went through a horrendous break up with the "father" of my youngest 2 children. During this time, I managed to pinpoint 2 women (who he was having a serious relationship with at the same time)and we began doing what most women do when they find out what type of loser they have been with...we began to compare dates and conversations...Realizing that one of the ladies was older (the older= mid 30's ::the main chic:: 17 years younger than the offender) was very immature and insecure and couldn't be a part of our "bigger and better thangs clique"...

So this sister (the older chic) and I frequently spoke on the phone and emailed one another (which was really our way of making sure neither of us were still "messin" with him) I pretended to act aloof, but I knew the deal. No one was more ready to move on than I was. I was left with the children while they were the ones going out and having a good time with him, getting gifts and all the good sex (the only thing he really had to offer)so they had to put up more of a fight. After a while, I noticed that this "friendship" with this sister was unhealthy and based in some sick dependent need we had with one another, trying to validate our worth by bashing a man and his girlfriend (rudypoot who stayed)was always the means for discussion. I quickly grew tired of hearing about what he did, what he said, what he was gonna do, blah, blah, blah...it was time to let go.

So, I refused to take any of her calls and emails and moved on.

her 1st facebook message Wed 5:30pm:

"what up wit ya
what u doing on here"

like she's known me all my life, we haven't even met...

Me: I ignored her...thought the situation was going to go away...

A good friend of mine who happens to be a male...came to see me on my birthday, we spent some time discussing our relationships. He mentioned something that a sister said to him that was very negative. I felt bad because he saw her on my myspace page a couple of years ago, thought she was cute, and I introduced them. When she met him, she realized he wasn't her type, but while communicating with him over the phone and via email for over a year, he WAS her type. He was upset and the fact that he is my friend, I was upset too.

This woman tried to add me as a friend on facebook...Thu 6/11 @12:49am

Me: I ignored her request...but posted a nice note on my page entitled:
"I reject the BS" on Thu @11:58 am:

Yeah, so...we ain't really cool like "dat"...

The older I get the more I realize how some people just need to be put the F*ck down. I care about the people within my tight knit circle who care about me, I'm that type of friend. So when my boy told me you flat out disrespected him, I took it personally so don't smile & beguile like we cool b/c we NOT.

He may still want to play games with you, but on the real...when you set standards for yourself and no longer tolerate the bullshyt you teach people self control. So...from chic to chic...get a grip. and Soooo...yeah... I'm going to respectfully decline your request...to...be friends? internet pals? and be the example of what he should've done...which is leave your bourgeoisie ass where you stand.

It's really unfortunate that sisters would much rather have a brutha in their lives who dogs em, sleeps with her friends, beats around bushes, puts you behind him instead of by his side...it's unfortunate that sisters like to date men who are overwhelmed with offers from other sisters because you think nabbing him is going to validate your existence...you're WEAK....that's WEAK...he has this thing about him, makes him want to pick up wounded birds, heal em' and send em back into the wild...me: I pass em' by...

These "slight slips of the tongue" really give good insight to a person's character, theres a psychological term for such occurrences, Freud talks about them. You accidentially say what you mean and accidentially mean what you say...a little word of advice:


Stop playing yourself

watch ur mouf

stop thinking you can push over the "good guys" & there will be no repercussions

don't FuCk with my friends



HE'S A GOOD BROTHER. and a helluva' friend.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Can you even predict what happened next?

There is nothing like a note from someone who is incredibly clueless about what the hell is going on and has no idea...

Plastered on my fb page underneath the note reads:

June 12 9:22pm

"If ur referring to me im not trying to be ur friend and he gone be who he is ur gonna always deal with the BS and he will always try and get some and believe what u want too and no u aint claiming him as a good dude so reject that!!!"

Stop the presses...I...am....weak.............

.........grabs my composure...........

Sypnosis:

1. I haven't spoken to this offender in months
2. Why would he be the "good guy"?

3. Did you really have to try to go there?

4. I have many men in my life.

*clearly mistaken identity and not the dude you think it is*

so why and wow.

my response:

"that was not directed towards you, trust and believe **** is not the topic of my every conversation, as a matter of fact, he's no longer relevant and has already been replaced. I'm moving on with my life, that was directed to a chic who disrespected a male friend of mine...why would you think this was about you? Did you read it fully?"

jumpoff:

"my bad thought that cuz i sent u a message saying whats up that u meant me by sayin deny request or internet pals sorry bout and i no what u mean bout him **** word"

my response:

"but real talk, that was kinda foul how you just put a message up on there almost putting my business in the street when i have not only long term friends but also family on my facebook acct...seems like every time you come around i start to hear from **** again and i no longer need him in our lives...my children are well taken care of and i have a man who treats me so good...i really don't need him trying to come around, call and mess shyt up for me and my children. Seems like you still stuck thinking about **** when i'm not that's why i didn't respond to your message because i know that is really the only thing we have in common and i'd rather not revisit the past...but i wish you well sincerely...and i hope you have/can move on too."

I will never understand it...the thing that happens between women who are stuck, dazed and confused over a man...the competition, insecurity and ridiculousness that ensues is worth psychological study and deserves its own medical term. My page had to have been stalked on a daily by both of these chics (once on myspace and now facebook). I admit, I'm curious as well, the furthest I have gone was a search for a photo. As the former "main" chic, I wanted to know what it was that made this man cheat on me and mess up his relationship with our 2 children, was it her ass, her eyes, (Ms. Celie: "I just need to see her eyes...") her lips? Did she have hair down her back? Nah, they didn't and I won't post a picture of them because that would be pety...*this maturity thing is HARD AS HELL! cause yall should see this shyt!!!*

(((wooosaaaah)))

Anyway, it's never about the woman when it comes to a man being disrespectful of persons but always about him lacking character and strength to do what is best. He simply wasn't the one for me and I'm glad I found that out before we walked down the aisle. So to you sister, we don't need to be friends, we don't need to dwell on the past, and we are cut from two very different cloths...

it's not where u from...

but where you at.

This is the chic right
here that I had to kill to get free.

"Your eyes are blue, but you ain't White...your hair is straight cause...you pressed it last night..."

Yeah, that was "Moet" me 11 years ago...(you ain't a true Chicagoan if you don't have a picture at the "Fiddy" ---50 Yard Line) <---and that's the "Old" Fiddy...(Now closed) I wasn't even old enough to get in with my REAL id... I've been through more trials and tribulations than anyone can imagine. The rabbit hole is deep. It's been really difficult for me to address the issues of my life in first person. I guess that's why it's been easier to tell my life through stories, adding a little fantasy here and there, changing negatives into positives and changing the end each time. The last story I wrote "Sugar Free" was much more difficult to write (had to put the blog on pause for a minute) because I found myself back in a place that was very much real, with memories I thought I had long forgotten. So, I've decided to make Sugar Free into a novel. I know I have much more work to do in terms of becoming a writer. I just have a story inside of me that is so humongous that it can't be reduced to mini fragments.

Speaking of :escapism: Delilah's (titty bar/trashfest/whorehouse) was a place ::one of them:: where I could escape the problems I had growing up with a single mother who was plain and simply, just...tired. By the time I was "graduating" a.k.a. "leaving" High School, Mom's was 47, married twice, lost her mother, her aunt ("she was the only one I had left" is what she said after her passing), barely knew her father, was abused by my father, had 3 children at the ages of 15, 16 & 30, while separated from my father, became a widow and was now dealing with her own physical hell: the onset of diabetes and hypertension. Raising me into a "proper young lady" took more time and effort than she was willing to endure besides, she was busying herself with her own means of escape (which I will not disclose here). I remember when the movie "The Players Club" came out, every chic in the neighborhood ::without good sense or knowledge of self worth:: wanted to be Diamond or Ronnie...The entertainment industry tells the stories but these stories are glamorized and illuminated to the tenth power. Every story doesn't end like Diamonds...the chances of strippers turning into news anchors or lawyers...are slim...

Random guy: "So, what are you studying?"
Me: "Criminal Justice, I want to become a Lawyer"
Random guy: *Chuckle* "Yeah, it's possible, but highly unlikely..."

Coming into myself took a lot of inner battles, soul searching and self discovery and it's still a journey unraveling what's inside of me, the good...the great even. We live in a society, a world that will chew you up and spit you out with no regard of your feelings. Feelings?

Healing takes time...it takes introspection and a lot of patience...but you've got to be willing to do the "dirty work"...



"Sugar Free"

baby.makers.

Mos Def - U R The One


i am not a victim.
but i must scream on yo ass...
u are the WORST father in the entire world...
who could go for months not seeing their children?
u live less than 30 minutes away.
i shouldn't give u this energy.
i made a bad decision in choosing a mate to procreate with
but there is a such thing as ugly beauty

Father's Day is approaching...
so it's only right that i gift you something.
i sent those child support papers
in the biggest minella evelope I could find...
well because you dared me of course
"bitch, and when you get that 15 dollars a month..."

....."yeah, well I want my 15 dollars...*click*"

Wait...is...this...you calling my phone...? What...is...OH! Father's day is coming...is...that...guilt I smell? Ha...you're so funny...

"GIVE A BRUTHA A CHANCE...!"

huh? Give a brutha a chance?

Me:

*sure...you can just give me a lil money on the side
*it's okay...you can't pick them up this week, nor did you last week...let's try next week
*sure, you can threaten us
*sure, it's okay, you can call my house all hours of the night to discuss "whatever" interrupting my sleep
*huh? me? nooooooooo....I don't need a break. I haven't been away from my children for more than 8 hours in the last 4 years...hahhahaha....it's cool...how was your trip to California...oh and Miami?
*Huh? Oh, sometimes the children call other people Daddy...it doesn't mean they don't recognize you...
*What was that? you bought a new big screen tv? wow...that's nice...
*What size clothes do the children wear?...no, lol...our 3 year old isn't in 12 months clothing anymore...

Happy Father's Deadbeats Day

untititled.

pitches his tent in the dark places
by divine right...
he's gifting me magic
wrapped in ancestral heirlooms
metu neter
native tongues
whispering
"i do recall...
you."

"yes, you were the one standing in the light of Ra
i was reflectin'"

twisted your locs in bantu knots
greased your scalp with frankinscense and myrrh
barefoot on sacred ground
drank wine from my limbs flowing off my toes
breaking nazarene oaths
felt the energy through my roots
raised my vibration
we elevated.
baptized by Yemeya
made love to a hidden Congo beat
in an R&B tune
felt the pound of Shango in my chest
exhaling elements giving life to the wind
we named it: air

perfect balance
the law is written within our hearts
like dna
we branded
in
forever.

revolutionary suicide.

so many of our people are looking for a way out...some form of escapism to avoid the harsh realities in which we see in our neighborhoods, families, and work environment. due to an overwhelming need for escapism:

Escapism is mental diversion by means of entertainment or recreation, as an "escape" from the perceived unpleasant aspects of daily stress. It can also be used as a term to define the actions people take to try to help relieve feelings of depression or general sadness.

...we have found our communities plagued with psychological illness, physical abuse, substance abuse, debt, lack of education, etc...and what's worst is that these behavioral patterns are often passed down from generation to generation.

one thing i have begun to realize is that White people do not (for the most part) see themselves as a collective of White people but more or less understand the barriers that seperate people due to class and social issues that makes each individual unique. what i mean by that is: White people do not focus on issues pertaining to White people only. they do not see the negative occurences of misguided behavior, thought, philosphy as something that relates to their being White. perhaps this is due to luxury that years of racial oppression and White supremacy has afforded them. nonetheless, it is definitely something that i've been thinking about greatly.

have we in the conscious community, as Black people become too involved in beating a dead horse? i was raised by a woman who made her way through the military and became a nurse while having 2 children at the age of 15 & 16 and she managed to make a successful career and life for herself. i know a sister who was raised in foster care, still has a shaky relationship with her drug addicted mother who abandoned her and is now working on her masters degree. i guess my reasoning for this is due to the overall lack of unity that i've been noticing amongst Black people who have either become academically progressive, or what we may call "conscious" in the quote/unquote revolutionary movement. we have failed to pinpoint a solution that will change the condition of the "Black problem" and find ourselves bickering, fighting, and struggling with one another. i wonder if there are many of us with misplaced anger because of broken dreams that we have failed to bring into fruition.

i watch a lot of videos on youtube & (have made some of my own) and i've come to realize that there are many people who have no other outlet to relieve the stress and strain they feel in regards to what they see around them and feel inside. so many of us are conscious of oppression but are not conscious of freedom and what it really takes to gain peace of mind. i do not wish to negate the fact that racism exists, however, in our search for a cultural identity, are we making a mistake by giving failure a front row seat by blaming others?

perhaps the reason why we cannot "unite" is really based in the fear that responsibility will truly rest in the nature of the work and commitment we put in to do something about our own conditions...

...as individuals.

ur sweetness.is my weakness.

so yeah. i get sent on an errand to pick up 2 chocolate donuts for my diabetic mother and i walk into all this.



I am a HUGE cheesecake fan but sweets in general have been a problem for me...over the course of 5 years I've managed to go from looking like a 15 year old to a 40 year old...





My oldest child & I along the "Magnificent Mile"
Then (age 25)...



Last summer I did a good mediocre job of sucking in the gut (got down to 150)









Now. (age 30)


that is "I" on the left and yeah its probably one of my "better" photos in terms of showing my weight...I was 200lbs after my last childbirth...so out of fairness:

****fat photo that I declined to insert goes here****


and "blah, blah, blah" I hear, oh you're just "thick" as if that's supposed to mean something to someone who spent a majority of her life in the 115-125 lbs. range...and "blah, blah, blah" I've had 2 kids within those 5 years, but damnit...it aint gettin' any better. I would much more prefer my collar bone to protrude out of my chest than to be draggin' a big, jiggly arse behind me. I'm now 165 lbs (on a 5lb yo-yo tilt *higher and lower*) "according to MY scale" the doctor's office always places an extra 10 lbs on a sistuh...If I try to wear some shorts this summer I'm sure my thighs will end up on www.Mediatakeout.com or some "hotghettomess" website.

Shyt the devil makes me do/eat/devour/consume:

I figure the only way to get through this and get help is to confess my sins.

Doritos w/hot melted cheese

Sara Lee cheesecake with strawberries

Breyers Vanilla Ice Cream (throw some Strawberry Crush Pop on it...What?)

Turkey Nachos: Lime flavored Tortilla chips, ground turkey(cooked in Lawry's Taco seasoning), sour cream, melted cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato & taco sauce (bytch please u don't know nan')

Jolly Rancher lollipops (apple & grape preferably...yeah preferably)

Popeyes Chicken

<----for shame, did I even have to say it?


well, I'll stop there, my revolutionary friends who are "gungho" on being Vegan are probably gagging & kicking me out the cliques...I haven't been Vegan in well...maybe...well I be damn...about 5 or 6 years...but going Vegan again isn't like riding a bike...

seems like these last 20-30lbs are giving me so much trouble!

The 48 Laws of Power page 267:
The Reality: Change is slow and gradual. It requires hard work, a bit of luck, a fair amount of self-sacrifice, and a lot of patience.
The Fantasy: A sudden transfromation will bring a total change in one's fortunes, bypassing work, luck, self-sacrifice, and time in one fantastic stroke.

Okay, so I need to take my life/health back...I'll do great for a week or two and then all of a sudden, one cup of coffe or tea with extra sugar has me back on the wagon...tryin' to squeeze into some skinny jeans. It's summer time and hells no! I'm not hanging in the house this year...So it's time to put in some real work.

Mmmmh...maybe I'll start posting before and after photos...bubblegum stomach and all...(yeah right) stay tuned...

swimming in the deep end.

His lips are big, what most folks call "soup coolers"
and his skin is cocoa-chocolate brown, or muddy Black

ancient like Kush...Kemet...

he got melanin. The kinda skin I suppose curious white folk may want to reach out and touch on instinct...the kinda skin you want to lick to make sure it doesn't taste like hershey kisses...

I know him...I mean, know him, know him. Biblically...and I ain't even religious.

his eyes are big and bright, forever blinking. he is walking cosmos...
universal...

yeah, I'm trippin...hard. But I'm happy ya'll...