I've been on a roll.. creating new pieces and even revisiting some old. Yesterday I spent two hours spewing thoughts that were roused after reading another prompt in my writing group. I'm not sure if I'm ready to share that just yet. I'm thinking about tweaking it and exaggerating it a bit to make more fictional. That may be the piece I may submit to Essence.

Today, a prompt called for writing an obituary for something that is long gone or something you mourned in your life.  I immediately went back to my blogger blog. I've neglected it for some time after I just didn't feel right in that 'space. I clicked to the very first entry. How perfect it is to serve as a response to the prompt. So I posted it as an "oldie but goodie."  Usually, I'm pretty doubtful about my own writing. However, I think this is one of my favorite pieces/entry that I've ever written.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Emancipation

Saturday, February 25, 2006 was the day I died. I had no idea that death would come so easy and so painless. Yet, as I'm typing this out I do feel pain and some anguish behind it. I didn't want my life to be cut short, especially without my permission or without me having any control over it. As they say, "Shit happens."

Posted By Komplex Phemale.(Mahoganie)

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Hypergraphia

Hypergraphia is an overwhelming urge to write. It is not itself a disorder, but can be associated with temporal lobe changes in epilepsy and mania. Neurologist Alice Weaver Flaherty, in her book The Midnight Disease: The Drive to Write, Writer's Block, and the Creative Brain, describes its relationship to writer's block and to compulsive reading or hyperlexia. It is also associated with manic and bipolar disorder. Manic and depressive episodes have been reported to intensify hypergraphia symptoms. Additionally schizophrenics and people with frontotemporal dementia also experience a compulsive drive to write.

I've been having this overwhelming urge to just write. I still have a manuscript I'm working on to submit to an Essence Magazine contest. The deadline will be here before I know it. Plus, there is my own that I'm pushing so I can submit to a literary agent I found. I won't even mention some new duties I acquired in relation to my upcoming family reunion. I received word this morning that along with the request I sent to the city council chair about having a Resolution done for the family, I AM going to have to write the verbage for that - a good 50%!

I have all this nerve to write, however, pushing through my latest distractions has been a challenge and helpful. The challenge comes in from my writing thoughts being interupted by a personal situation. The helpful thing about it is, I finally received an epiphany about it all with helpful insight. My epiphany sort of unloaded the mass that was taking up space in my brain so now I can... breathe!

For kicks and for a warm up I checked in with my online writing group. I answered back to a couple prompts which received positive feedback.  I decided to share my responses in hopes that maybe later I'll expand on them nd the mojo will kick in full speed.

Prompt 1:

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I've been struggling a bit to write a decent blog about this weekend and some lessons I've learned.  Yet it's been a mental fight to say what I need to say as I even had to revisit an old entry of mine. I've been battling with spiritual maturity and it has been kicking me in the ass.

Untill I can finish getting my thoughts together, part of me feels the need to repost my entry "Good Christian, Bad Christian."  The other part of me just wants to take a full fledge break from writing in this blog.

If you are a visitor and would like to know what was said in my entry from February, just click there ----------> Good or Bad?

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Perfectly Imperfect

It seems that I've been forced to do some introspective thinking these past couple of days. It's pretty ironic, since I already feel as if I do anytime I put a pen to paper or even tap the keyboard to see my thoughts appear on a screen. Yet as take a breather in life I feel as if I have to have a conversation with myself and God concerning what's next for me or more importantly what is this phase in my life's journey about. What is there for me to learn, gain and possibly loose?

Granted, such thoughts have been in my head since the day I gave birth, but they seemed to have reappeared during this renovation process as I witness the house and my family go through a change. I laughed at myself the other day when I recently accepted an invite from a blog lurker on Yahoo 360. After accepting his invitation, it seemed in a matter of 24 hours he sent a message asking me to tell him something about myself.  My response to him was,

"All you need to know is right there on the page."

At the time all I saw was a lurker turned virtual "friend" looking to be a potential reality confidant. Honestly, I don't have that kind of time nor energy especially with strange men trying to enter into my life with nothing more on the brain than scoring a potential booty call. What made me laugh after the fact was me asking myself the same thing.

"Tell me about yourself now."

Just the other day I was listening to Erykah Badu's latest CD, New Amerykah, in depth. I love Badu's music to death, but this latest really had to grow on me. It wasn't until Papi took me to see her last month that I now have a real appreciation for this new album. I loved it (better) live. However, there is one song that I've kept on repeat ever since I paid closer attention to the lyrics; the song "Me."

Everything around you see
The Ankhs, the wraps, the plus degrees
And yes even the mysteries
Its all me
Sometimes it hard to move you see
When you growing publicly
But if I have to chose between
I chose me

The same evening in which I was grooving to Badu, I logged onto Vox and saw the question of the day or a prompt.  The prompt called for bloggers to revisit their first entry on Vox and reflect on any maturity between then and now.  At the time I didn't jump at the chance to flip back through many blog pages on Vox to get to my first one. I knew what it was about and I knew EXACTLY what was going on in my life during the time I started writing in Vox.

My first entry was a mere introducing. Indeed  I was no stranger to the blog world as I described myself as a blog whore. I was keeping several blogs (still do) as I felt lost at the time. I was "lost" because the one which I kept daily, held my thoughts from my hellish early 20 years and did some growing with was dead. It died thanks to a technological malfunction. Thankfully, I did have a majority of my writings from the site, but it was only what I had downloaded a year prior to the site death. So I had everything except that very last year that held my breaking point in which I did a major change. 

The time when I joined Vox I was calming down from that major life change, but little did I know that another wave was on the way. Only a few entries in, did I learn I was pregnant. Perplexed and feeling a bit alone I felt even more lost than usual, but I managed to pull through.

Had 2 babies different dudes
And for them both my luv was true
This is my last interview, oooh
Hey there's me, ooh
This year I turned 36
Damn it seems it came so quick
My ass and legs have gotten thick yea
Its all me

Two years later, that second wave of change did occur. I'm in new territory. I became a single mother of one. Though it's been an internal battle, I'm a stay-at-home mother.  Yet, I use my time wisely as I continue to write, consult and pitch freelance ideas or work on projects. I'm inching closer to 30. I'm definitely not 21 anymore, but a young and vibrant spirit won't die in me. My love for music fuels my fire or my hunger to be in the underground spot with the complex DJ venting through his mixes; where the gathering is all about the music. I'm a city girl who will get restless in the suburbs aka the fake city. I crave and live in the urban.

I use to pray to God above
But now Im filled with so much luv
But even if the world cant see
Its still me
Will I escape this vanity?
Or will I keep on smoking trees?
But I'll just let it go and be, be, be Me

Over the last year or so I've noticed how my friend/relationships have changed. I've gained new people. Lost a couple. Some friend/relationships may have become enhanced while others stayed the same or slid back to neutral. There were various reasons for each change in the dynamic, and I can guess that my growth may have affected each one in it's own way. The old me still lingers as it wants to dwell in the past to do its usual of analyzing the situation. Yet, the new me fights to keep moving. The new me seems to always win. However, each person that has come across my path does hold a special place in my heart; friend or foe.

The new me is "mommy conscience" as I take in who or what is and isn't mommy friendly. The old me still speaks to me when I contemplate on what to wear; heels a fashionable outfit and diaper bag. The new me gets scared when she sees her daughter crying and wanting relief from her eczema breakout. The old me comes through to make me act silly to make the Snickerdoodle smile. The new me realizes that dating isn't just for fun anymore. The new me embraces the thought of having a life long companion while being open to marriage.

The old me is my reminder of where I once was.

The new me is my light to help me see where I am going.

The old and new have merged, but for the greater good.

I still love God, Langston Hughes, Lynchburg Lemonades and girlie martinis, chocolate, the Tiffany & Co. Blue Hue, sex, falling in love, walking in the rain, watching Homer make an ass of himself, being in the midst of city foot traffic, being and feeling feminine, making my own way, brightening a stranger's day, making people feel special, picking the underdog, seeing things in a different light.

I'm learning and have developed a love for home decorating, tending to my daughter's ever changing needs and watching her grow, being domestic, and everything that will follow. 

Physically I may have gained a few inches; slight buxom spillage, rounder tummy, slightly thicker thighs, but it's me.

As each day passes, I've been loving me a bit more.

I'm still imperfect yet it's me.

It's all me. 

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Kimora and daughters fashion week 2008

1. Viewing Kimora Lee Simmons' reality show.

I cried.

Last night's (Sunday) episode was a part two to Kimora and her production team staging the Phat Fashions fashion show for New York's Annual Fashion Week. A segment of the show features Kimora giving her oldest daughter, Ming Lee, a pep talk about her hair. Ming Lee, 8,  was about to take part in a rite of passage that all little girls of color (or perhaps any girl) goes through at some point. In prepping for the fashion show, Ming Lee's hair was about to be "blown out" or straightened via the blow dryer. Kimora's pep talk was more of handing out "the law" in how to keep up with such a hair style, plus bumping up Ming Lee's chores around the house - to washing dishes.

After a kiss to seal the hair and chores deal, and Kimora's daughters asking her how old was she when her hair was blown out - to which Kimora responded "at the age of 13 when I was hitting the runways in Paris" - an emotional mommy began to break down and cry. Ironically, I was crying right along with Kimora as she (maybe with a little bit of dramatic overtones) talked through tears of how her babies are growing up before her eyes and it was all too much for her.

I thought about my own daughter. How she is a little over 13 months now. I look at her now and compare pictures I took of her last year when she was a few weeks old. She's definately older. She has her own personality.  She is starting her journey of becoming her own unique spirit.  I'm anxious, scared and happy at the same time to the different rites of passage she will go through - menstrual cycle, first bra, allowed to have boys call her, wearing stockings, wearing high heels, makeup and of course hair permed/straightened.

I was roughly 12 when my hair was processed. My mother was furious. At the time I didn't understand what the big deal was. I just knew I was tired of the hot comb. I had enough war wounds  (hot comb scars) behind my ears to plead my case. My grandmother agreed and "ordered" it done. Aunt P, who worked as a beautician at the time, commenced with the order. PCJ (as it was/is called) or Pressing Comb in a Jar did the trick. Funny thing is, all those years I spent with processed hair, I finally let the chemicals go. It's been eight or nine years as I've returned to my "au natural" roots (which do need some professional work here and there), and began a regime of washing my hair every two weeks and either letting it air dry into a bush or finding the patience of pressing my own hair with the hot comb - only to make it managable to comb and not bone straight.

However, back to Kimora.... 

It was at that moment of her "breakdown" that I truly gained respect for Kimora as a business woman but more importantly as a mother. Though she is demanding and a bit of a diva with her over the top ways, the love she has for her daughters is not for show for the Style Network cameras. It's real. In all that she does, she always makes it a point that no matter what, when her babies need her she is there.

I can only hope that I am doing just the same for my own daughter. I'm always careful to continue to let my passion for writing and all that I want to do drive me, but making sure it doesn't leave my daughter in the dust somewhere. Whatever I achieve in life I want it to be for us - God, my daughter and myself.

Certain Girls: A Novel

Jennifer Weiner

2. Reading Certain Girls

Since I began reading Jennier Weiner's latest novel, I've been happily entralled in Cannie Shapiro's world again AND her daughter, Joy. Ironically, I laugh when I read Joy's thoughts, because like any adolescent in this world what "tween" doesn't think their mother is a little "off." As I've been reading I have noticed that I see myself in both Cannie and Joy this time. Joy represents my "ugly" teen years, but she also represents something new in my life... yes my Snickerdoodle. Though Cannie is a little older than me in this book (she's in her 40's where as in Good In Bed she was right on the bullseye as my current age - late twenties) I still related to her on some level as she flashes back to her twenties to relive some horrid "single mom/writer" moments.

What's funny here.. in keeping with the theme of rite of passages...Joy is obviously about to go through one with her bat mitzvah on the horizon. However, as I keep reading it seems that her rite of passage is coming in another form as well..learning the real truth of how she came to be and beginning to understand her mother's intentions, ways, persona...etc.

Part of Cannie's past deals with a book she wrote that was based on her life. However, she fictionalized it with a hyper/over sexed heroine as she told a tale of how she over came some of her issues with the men in her life; a father that didn't want her and a boyfriend that was a pile of....shit.  Not to mention a mother that eventually admitted that she was a lesbian. Naturally Joy ends up reading the book and at the moment is seeking answers, on her own, about her mom and dad's relationship and her existence.

When I initally started blogging (in 2002) and decided that what I wrote would eventually end up in a manuscript or book form, a lot of it did sound like a broken record. That was because it was during the time when I was in my depression and part of my solace or my comfort zone at the time was through sex.  As I began to put the pages together, I didn't like what I saw. Granted it was my truth. That shit hurt. Still, I always worried about who would eventually read my truth if in fact it did get as far as being published. Who would it help? Who would it hurt?

My manuscript has been changed so many times because

1) I'm never going to be happy with it until my brain can finally say "STOP!" That's just the writer perfectionist in me.

2) Though I did fictionalized it, those who are close to me will know it's about me. So what will my mother think, especially in some of the mother vs. daughter scenes?

3) Since becoming a mother, I now feel it's my duty to use it (or perhaps anything I write) as a tool to teach my daughter a (few) lessons in life.. for when she is older and is able to comprehend what I went through.

In reading about Cannie and Joy, it's also bringing up a couple of the same issues I had.. umm HAVE... with my mom.... the over protectiveness and the broken communication line. Where I am currently in the story I do feel as if the crap is about to hit the fan. I'm just anxious to read about it and see where the two Shapiro ladies will go from there.

Another rite of passage...being able to face your truths, the whole truths so help you God.  

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Pic By Natalie Dee

Dear Reader,

It's very rare that I address something specifically for you. Depending on how long you have stuck with me through my twisted true life tales, you know by now that normally I shoot off my thoughts without even thinking about you. Writing has always been some form of self medicated therapy and when I became a blog whore....

WHOA NELLY!

Needless to say, when I caught on to you I was taken aback that you would be so interested in my little corner of the world. However, I came to a (perhaps) sad realization yesterday. While I continuosly write entry after entry and you are compelled to give me your feedback, I don't necessarily do the same for you.

I suck. This I know.

Satire photo take @ The Newseum circa 1998

It's not that I don't care or appreciate you. It's just that.. honestly... I'm too wrapped up in my own world right now.  Between the recent death of my cousin, connecting with relatives on both sides of my family, chasing after a one year old, writing and embracing the next phase in my life I'm pretty much on the go.  I try to journey to your thoughts every now and then, but hey.. I've developed Adult ADD in the last few months.  

Ever wonder how left handed people drive stick shifts in America?

Sorry.. see.. thoughts are jumping

Oh crapola I need to do a dry run to this place in Falls Church

Seeeeeee... there it goes again.

okay.. so what I am trying to say is..

I know how some readers are sensitive to the fact that they read and comment in your blog. Then they turn around and write in their own and expect you to do the same for them and some will get hopping mad if you don't... as if you are ignoring them.

Okay some can't lie.. they are stalkers. Ew!

Oh My Gawd! I found my old journal via Blogger ->>>>>>>>>> Komplex Phemale

Seee.. There goes that ADD again...

Anyways... gotta go.

To my reader(s)... Thanks you are still appreciated. I'll stop by soon.

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I was looking for a Natalie Dee comic to coincide with my random thoughts for today. Needless to say I stumbled along something in her archives that just made me choke on my own saliva; a drawing of her husband "murdering" Michael Jackson's Billie Jean.

Misternataliedee by Natalie Dee

Random Thought # 1

I'm waaaay overdue for a Pap test.  Being a woman seems so inconvient and disturbing when you think about a visit to the OBGYN.

Any man out here wanna take my piping and my OBGYN? 

Random Thought #2

I pondered last night if I'm too much of the world to make a full connection with my spirituality. Well maybe not too much of the world...I'm just... I don't know what is the word or phrase I'm looking for. Hmmm. I'm not an atheist. I'm a bit quirky. I try to see beauty in everything. While I don't glamorize illegal drug use, I can sympathize and perhaps understand a bit why someone would abuse it.  A large part of me wants to break free from anything and just totally let go of any inhibitions I have. While I do attend church, it's only on the Sundays when I feel the need to or just basically when I feel up to it 

Was I over churched as a kid; especially in attending religious schools all my life?

What is really going on with me spiritually?

Random Thought #3

I really do hurt for some men out here. The ones who have been taken for granted and are really top picks of the liter. In talking with Papi and other male friends, none have ever felt appreciated or even had partners that took the time to pamper or cater to them for at least a day. They were always the givers, and eventually got took some kind of a way. As a giver (and there are some of us ladies who give) I have felt the sting as well of being taken for granted. That was mainly due to a bad choice on my part to give to someone who didn't deserve it. Yet, when I asked my friends and Papi would they know what they want if given the opportunity to be treated for a day in and outside of the bedroom, no one could fully answer. One guy even asked me for suggestions of what she should look/ask for. 

Have we females become so jaded about love or who we are "dating/seeing" that we feel we are entitled to being the receiver constantly?

Random Thought #4

Out of a lil boredom and tired of being referred to as the anti-socialable MySpace Nazi, I revamped my MySpace page a bit. I will say, the song I selected kicks arse! (opps! Irish accent slipped)

But seriously, who really pays attention to me on MySpace anyways?

Random Thought #5

After.................. (okay I can't think of the exact number) of year with my online writing group, I'm thinking about leaving. The group doesn't "feed" my anymore. There are more "off topics," posted than anything pertaining to writing. I've been thinking about it for a while. I don't feel "at home" anymore. It is one of the rare online communities that I have found to be drama free, but sometimes I wonder.  I probably won't leave altogether, just change my membership to receive a digest of the latest happenings.

Speaking to self right now ----> Honestly, are you still benefiting from the group?

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Show us what you want, but can't have.

Pink-blackberry-pearl

Curse the day I left Verizon Wireless and went to T-Mobile. Though both companies have been good to me - despite T-Mobile's lazy reception on my residential block and complete refusal to "live" underground in the subway system - I'm stuck with T-Mobile for a while. Therefore, I'm missing out on the Pink Blackberry Pearl. The Pink Pearl is exclusive to Verizon Wireless. Meanwhile, over at the T-Mobile factory standard colors blue, black, and white are churched out along with gold and ruby red. I believe when I have some extra cushion to splurge, I'll upgrade to the Ruby Pearl.

Right now I'm stuck with my (now) unsexy Samsung Slider that I've had for two years.

Hard to believe, me - a snail in the hi-tech digital world - wants a Blackberry. Could it be that my life as grown this "complicated" and or too "busy" to keep up with using an old fashion bound date book/agenda and a simple digital cell phone that happens to have a camera attached to it?

Maybe I'm just lusting after the color?

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I think there is a lot to be said when the only sanity I've been able to find lately are moments alone with my daughter and sitting down to write (blog, novel, short stoary, whatever)

For the past few days I've been FA & FO - or as I've been calling it.....

Fucking Annoyed & Frankly Offended

My 'TUDE started late Tuesday evening, when I received a phone call from a DC Government Agency - namely the Dept. of Health. It was in regards to some business with some health benefits for my daughter... yadda yadda.

I could live with the business aspect of the call, but the rude or uncalled for comments from the lady on the other end of the phone set me off completely.  Hence, why I fired off an Open Letter and posted it on all my blogs and on Craigslist. Needless to say, the responses have been interesting and disappointing, leaving me to feel even more FA & FO.

Today, as I helped my aunt take care of her business, I was even more FA & FO at the fact that today was a waste of time.... her time and the other people that had to be pulled into today's event.

I don't even really want to get into that.

Right now, I know... my head hurts and my cramps are kicking... making me even MORE FA & FO. My patience is short for a lot of things going on with me directly and indirectly right now.

I'm just done.

I'm done with ignorant people

I'm done with half assed help

I'm done with utter bull shit

I'm done with game, scams...whatever you want to call it.

I'm done with those who are recognized for their writing talent, folks who are out there, when I'm just as good (or better) and still can't get any "air -time" (maybe this one is on me)

I'm done with these elections

I'm done with Black vs. White, Man vs. Woman

I'm done with this whole Barak Obama "The Choosen One, Rock Star, Hip Hop Movement" SHIT!

I'm done with folks who discredit (Hill) Clinton with her accomplishments - especially when she (like her husban) fought for rights, lobbied for issues for the common man.

I'm done with John McCain's tired ass.

I'm done with "Dubya" fucking up this country abroad and domestically

I'm done with broads who have good men by their sides but still aren't satisfied and go to "greener" grass, when that other grass is really brunt to the crisp.

I'm done with divorces

I'm done with people who try to "1-up!" me - what the fuck for?

I'm done with my next door neighbor's turbo engine in his Mitshibishi that shakes the whole house

I'm done with Sunday drivers

I'm done with tears

I'm done with being a woman

I'm done with being this fucking talented without a unique niche

I'm done with this post.

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Today seemed like a bust.

Errands to run

Scribblings, reflections, mumblings to write

But feelings of "stuck" literally rained over me.

Curse mother nature for teasing me with spring-like weather this morning

Only to snatch it away

Bring in the cold

Bring in the rain.

Yet, even me in all my inner strength, can't fight the forces of nature.

So instead, I hunkered down. Surrounded myself with quietness

Well.. just the laughter and fussiness of my daughter nearby and my music library qued on Itunes in shuffle mode.

From Floetry, to Snooze, to Zero 7 to Lauryn Hill, to Stevie Wonder, to Mos Def, To Billie Holiday, to.............

While the Snickerdoodle plays, I clean.

Old files.. old diary.. blog files.

I laugh at a (now corny) peice of poetry I've ever written.

I can't believe my driving force behind it was a young man I met at some point in my life who turned out to be a "bust" as well.

Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiile, I thought he was the shit. Turns out he was full of shit.

Yet he spoke the same language I did at the time... poetry.

When I wrote about him I called him Pretty Brown Eyes.

Always socially, politically aware. But he also had his own theories of the ways and whys of the world.

Some things he said did make sense... while most of the time... it became clear he was full of himself.

Yet, I didn't realize that until much later... way after I had written this....

Making Love
By Mahoganie aka Blackvelveteen (D-X)
Date: June 8, 2003

He makes love to me throughout the day by kissing and softly caressing me with the qouted scriptures of the Bible and his heart.  

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