20 posts tagged “relationships”
(may contain some mildly/strong language)
After waking up from a little nap, I had in my mind to blog about something that has been in my thoughts since yesterday. However, some other thought took over once I logged online and started checking my emails. Tonight's blog thoughts were generated behind yet another email from my online writing group. Though the main objective of our group is to discuss things about writing, sometimes we ladies do acquire the gift for gab and talk about social issues as well - even eventually writing about them in essay, blog, prose, short story form.
Tonight's off topic email was an open discussion on a list generated by a columnist from Mississippi, Matthew Lynch. The list entitled Top Ten Reasons Why It's Hard To Date A Black Woman is a negative (in my opinion) explanation on why some Black men stay clear from Black women. The email also included the link to the article from which the list was pulled from. After reading the list and skimming through an article that really didn't need to be dignified with a response, I couldn't help but to voice my opinion about it.
*Note: to read the article with the list in its entirety please click there --------------> Matthew Lynch List.
As for my response as I posted to the group, read below....
This paragraph alone is even more annoying.
"As dating preferences should no longer be relevant in this day and time, conversations shared between men and women indicate that we as a race are puzzled to some degree as to why we are no longer interested in each other. Have we become bored? Is the sex more engaging with women who are not black? Are we intimidated by women who can take care of themselves and/or are we turned off by women who hold a strong sense of independence? (For some Black Men or MEN In GENERAL this is true!) Or is it something as simple as, interracial relationships provide for more amusing discussion over candlelight dinners or vacations to exotic resorts? (ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?) Are we no longer going against the grain and finally succumbing to the innate intrigue of gravitating towards and attaining something that is different? Or are we running from self hatred that is mirrored in the eyes of our black women? (This can be true for both Black Men and Women who may not be hoenst with themselves on why they are with a person outside of their race. It's NOT true love or perhaps a love that is 'DIVINELY FAVORED'- Meaning that person was given to you BY GOD!)"
Granted, the list he generated seem to be some things coming straight from the horses mouth, especially in regards to this.....
"Another says, "My friend told me he dates white girls because they give no hassle and that they are more practical for him....PRACTICAL? !! Some black men are using white girls and its not fair on the white girls at all who think these black men actually like them. "He said that getting a white girl is easy pussy," says another."
I hate one sided or negative list such as this and even the one that could be drawn up about why it's hard to date a Black Man. It's fucked up thinking like this that continues to pump poison into a cycle of self-hatred or insecurities as inner complexes develop. Being the optimistic that I am, I've always believed in the cliche' that there is someone out here for everyone' be it a person within or outside of your race. The question remains on how open are you to receive the love you deserve from whomever in whatever package they come in.
WE.. US... BLACK MEN AND WOMEN... we have our issues when it comes to dating, marriage and why we end up in some situations with a mate. I'm sure Soledad O'Brien didn't have time to further explore every corner nook and cranny when it comes to interracial dating on Black In America. Yet from her "surface" discussion about it, it's obvious that America still has issues with Black and White or non Black mixing as the featured married interracial couple still faced resistance from their families. Truth of the matter is, deep down.. our inner core.. we're all MUTTS with our families co-mingling - whether they wanted to or not - created a BEAUTIFUL range of people. After all, aren't we ALL made in HIS image????
Every family has secrets. I wonder what mine are.
I just got off the phone with my Aunt P. The conversation started out simple enough. She was checking on her son, my lil cuz. Tonight I'm "babysitting" the little cuz and my own little Snickerdoodle. Oddly, she asked me a question that seemed to have come out of left field.
"Are you happy?"
I sheepishly chuckle and tell her yes. I even inquire on why did she ask.
"Something in your presence," she responds.
She's reluctant to tell me the reason why she asked. She starts out by breaking down her feelings on how she believes we have a special bond. Despite her flaws, her mistakes, her bad choices in life, she appreciates how I never seem to judge her. Actually I don't. True, I get upset or a little disappointed at times when she does something that would make anyone go "What the flip?!?!?!" However, I always try to look at the bigger picture of the situation. Why should I judge? No one is perfect.
However, in that same token, while I am understanding of a majority of my aunt's ways, I still have a fear of becoming like her in some ways. Mainly my fear is more of my mother seeing me the same way she does my aunt. Yes, my aunt and I are two different people, but in some complex emotional way we are the same. Ironically, my aunt mentioned how at 46 she is seeing more clearly now that she can't live her life by my grandmother's standards or anyone else's. She must live for her. Through all her drama and goodness it's all her.
I mainly let my aunt vent or just speak freeling about what has been on her mind. It's probably rare that she gets to do that without being judge or chastised. What has piqued my interest a bit is the mention of my mother and how my aunt told me I only know half the real story behind my mother and grandmother. This I won't deny. I'm sure I'm spared a good decade of drama that doesn't concern me. However, if someone were to ask me what is something I would want in this world more than anything, it would be to learn or know more about my mother and to be closer to my mom whereas I can feel comfortable about talking to her about my life.
Tragically, this portion of my life is deeply scarred. Pain lies there, but I do feel it's getting a bit better. A mild stroke and a new baby girl later, we talk like adults, but still bump heads every now and then. Just the other day, I had received a phone call from the University of Phoenix. It was a courtesy call since I was referred to them for a continuing education program and blah blah. My mother began inquiring about why were they calling me. Sorry to say, when speaking to my mother about school it's a painful matter and yes I do put up a wall immediately. My college years were the worse in my life (thus far). It also brought up some issues I had with my mother; as far as control, her over protectiveness, money and trying to live by her standards. Naturally my mother took up a minor 'tude with me for brushing off the phone call.
"Everything is a secret. This is why your life falls a part. You don't talk to the elders."
*No. I just don't talk to you...much.*
A few hours later, the same thing she spoke against me she admitted doing herself. It was later that evening when we were in Forestville, MD (a hop, skip, jump, from the DC line). We were heading home when some police action was going down at the mall across from where we were. I was amazed by the number of flashing lights and cruisers wizzing by my car. I just shook my head and chuckled.
"Only my mother," I said as if to say only-my-mother-would-have-me-out-late-in-the-midst-of-police-action.
I was making a joke, but my mother seemed to have eased it into another direction.
"You just know the half of it. You only know what I choose to tell you."
I drove in silence for a while down Marlboro Pike, unsure what to say. So when my aunt briefly mentioned how my mother's life was similar to hers back in the day, a chord was struck. What was my mother really like? My aunt never went into details, but made bref mentions on certain things. So now, at least one thing does make sense to me; how my mother and my aunt ended up living with my great-grandmother for a while.
I'm sort of reminded of one of my favorite films: The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. I'm Sandra Bullock, a writer who has all these notions and ideas about her mother based on negative (and some good) experiences. Yet, I don't know what makes my mother tick. Yet, I never seem to understand her ways because she has never let me in or trusted me enough to let me in. So, I turn out to be like her and perhaps like her mother and so on.
Like Bullock's character, I use to have a fear of my children having the same negative traits that I seem to have inherited - "secret keeping." I use to always pledge that I will be as open about my life as I can be and my child will never feel uncomfortable about approaching me to talk. I still pledge this as as I continue to bond with my Snickerdoodle. I want that fine balance of yes-I-am-the-mom-and-I-have-the-last-say with I-am-your-mother-the-listener-and-i-will-hear-what-you-have-to-say-and-i-will-repect-you.
Since I was a teenager I use to wonder if my mother ever respected me. Yes parents are the authority, but I also feel that parents should have a level of respect for their children, especially when you are teaching them about it.
Back to my aunt's question to me at hand....
After I let her speak her mind, she eventually got around to saying how because of the special spiritual bond we have she takes notice of me from afar. I have to admit sometime she is a bit off the mark in her observing, but maybe she wasn't too far off this time. She said something about my presence just seems like something is bothering me. Still I confirmed that I was fine, but she kept going.
"Something in my spirit just moved me to ask you. 'are you happy?'"
I stopped talking.
I felt tears forming.
I didn't let them drop.
She kept talking...rambling on the same point.
My floodgates never open.
The topic quickly changes to the Snickerdoodle.
We say our "I love yous" and hang up.
Moments later I realized.....
I'm not completely happy. I'm content, but this contentness feels too confortable. Things in my life can ALWAYS be better, especially with my mother and me.
*Ironic I wanted to make this a confessional in light of The Pope being in town*
Field trip day for me and the Snickerdoodle.
Where?
Columbia, MD to hunt for bargains at Columbia Mall (Town Center)
By the way.. I get the feeling that town centers are the new malls like pink is the new black.
Aside from the Snickerdoodle racking up on spring/pre-summer wardrobe - thanks to sales at Macy's and JC Penny's (looove their Penny's children's department) - I did some heavy thinking on the way there.
For the past few days I've been wrestling with a thought.. or thoughts. I finally broke down and did some "girl talking" with Nisha - my bud/business partner in Miami. It helped a little, because I was finally able to verbalize my "confusion."
The deal?
I've been going back and forth in head about my future as far as a relationship goes and just dating period.
*deep breath*
It started a week or so ago. I started to have the usual bored feelings I get when I'm seeing someone - hence how I ended up with my epiphany last week. Things with Papi are moving along, but I can't help but wonder if this is it? I'm already comfortable and I don't feel like being bothered with the dating world. Yet, part of me is wondering if there is something better. I'm beginning to believe this is me; this is how I operate when it comes to anything in life. I always have to ask "Is there anything better?" I think a lot of that has to do with my feelings about "settling." I don't like to just "settle" on anything or for anyone.
Then there was the dream I had a few nights ago. The dream included my mother proclaiming she didn't like Papi after looking at his hands. His cuticles were rough and skin was ashy. Eventually I left my mother and Papi talking to each other as I stepped outside and ended up at some festival. Mr. S was also in the dream in which he came running after me, but I snapped (in a way) and told him that "I couldn't do this anymore." I'm leaving a lot of the details of the dream out because what baffled me the most were those key moments. I haven't spoken with Mr. S since October and I pretty much scrapped the idea of anything between us, especially as things move right along with Papi. Yet, I still can't shake Mr. S.
To make things clear, Mr.S and I never had anything going. We talked about it and perhaps flirted with the idea, but he kept pulling away answering to the call of his work and traveling all the time. Meanwhile, I was having emotional flashbacks of past experiences that was similar to our situation. So in the dream it was really no big shock that I came across as mean towards him. Yet he kept running after me.
In reality it's Papi who has been pursuing me and making time for me. Whereas, Mr. S ACTS or acted rather...as if he is interested in something more only to do opposite actions. It's pretty much a no brainer here, but I wish my subconscious would let it go. As for my mother not liking Papi in the dream just by looking at his hands, I'm not sure what that is about. If I remember and understand correctly, hands in dreams deal with responsibility. So maybe by his hands being rough and ashy he isn't owning up to something?
I have to look into the interpretation a bit more.
Eventually all of that led to thoughts about dating as a single parent in general.
Being a mother is a honor and blessing in itself. However, being a SINGLE mother is a bit scary. Being a SINGLE mother of a DAUGHTER is scarier. I verbalized this to Nisha and added that I don't want to be the naive mother you hear on the news whose boyfriend or new husband got to her child.
Nisha was quick to silence me in assuring me that I have enough God given sense to not attract such an element. Though I knew Nisha was right, all my brain saw were flashbacks of close friends of mine who were molested by their step fathers. What hurt them, hurt me. What hurt the most was realizing their mothers - who I had respect for and knew they had all of their God given senses in tact - turned a blind eye. They either were in deep denial because they were too in love with the man or just honestly didn't know. Again, I know that Nisha was right and I know myself; that I would not attract such an element, but still I wonder if this is every single mother's fear for her child(ren) or is it just me. After all, molesters/predators come in all cloths.
That's what scares me about dating. I can't just let any man interact with my daughter let alone come close to her. With Papi I do have some sense of trust. Mainly because he has two (quasi-former) stepsons (his ex-wife's children) whose lives he is still involved in. Based on the stories he and his sister shares about the boys, it's pretty clear that Papi does have some parenting sense. When it comes to the Snickerdoodle, Papi has only interacted with her a few times and was when she was a few months old.
So yes.. right now I feel comfortable.. but still wondering... is this it?
Curse this restless spirit of mine.
Copping The High
By: Mahoganie
April 10, 2008
Washington, DC
Never knew what an addiction was
Until there was you
My internal tracks
Evidence of what I took in vain
My past filled with something like you
Still, it's not the same
Thought I turned the page
Wrestling, biting, scratching, fighting
Emancipating myself from the
Meaningless
Then there was you
Not fully aware of your presence
I made one move
It put me in place to be
A super hero by day
Defending her honor
Yet at night I disrobe my armor
Thoughts of you
Missing you
Excited by you
Indifferent about you
Wanting you
Needing you
Addicted to you
Cold sheets
Head bowed
Eyes closed
Still darkness
Explore
Touches like yours, but mine
Unafraid
Aware, but soon gone
My breath is yours
My voice is your whisper
Lower...
I tease, you tease
Feeling...
Stiff, rubber, veins...You're stiff and girthy
Deeper...
I go, you go
My cries are mine
Sensation surreal
Enter...stay...tease...slow...go...stop...
Stay...caress...tease...slow...go
My trip...
My hidden tracks
Filled and over flowing with my sinful lust
I hear nothing
I see nothing
Just feel
My trip
Feeling you inside of me
The power of one
Taking me higher
To a place that I cannot reach in reality
Overwhelmed
I succumb to your calling
My trip is done
My tears freely run
Never knew what an addition was
Until there was you
In not so recent days, a couple of people, actually one, has been wondering if I will ever hold a full fledge conversation with them again. I won't lie, there have been a few people I quasi-cut from my life. I don't have much (if any at all) contact with them anymore. I just choose to remain silent to each of them for different reasons. My silence has been worrisome on their part. I never really fully explained my silence just to say I was tired of explaining myself to them and/or they just never saw where I was coming from no matter how many times and how many angles I tried to get my point across. Their skull was just to thick to absorb the information.
I will admit, one person I randomly thought of so much that he contacted me out of the blue to pick up his stalkerish ways. I think I deserved that, since my mind was always wondering what happen to.....
Nevertheless he hasn't contacted me since that random day in January.
In my thinking and listening to the song "Never (Past Tense)" sung by Tina Arena, I was able to shoot some thoughts down in a matter of minutes. It's still a rough draft. I may tweak it a bit later on. However, I just felt like writing to those that I have chosen to remain silent to.
Maybe they will understand, especially one particular person.... he knows.
Silence
By Mahoganie
April 3, 2008
Washington, DC
My Silence
Itself
Is not for you to understand
Yet it is for you and I to stop
Where there is nothing left
To say
To give
To take
To love or live for
Each other
My Silence
Itself
Is not a signal of hate
It is my shield
For the rampart conceals me from
What is left of you
You still hide nearby
My Silence
Itself
Is my exhaust
For it is me working and seeking
My own existence
That was lost in you
My Silence
Itself
Is part me learning on
Loving me more
Is part you
Still haunted by what was
And What Became
My Silence
Itself
Is learning to listen
To a voice
Other than yours & my own
Living without noise
My Silence
Itself
May hurt
Yet it can never bare the many thorns
Which you secretly used against me
My scars ran deep
Causing utter blindness
My reality became a fallacy
We were a fairytale
My Silence
Is mine
Self-inflicted
So,
With no excuses
With no shame
With no blame
Silent I shall remain.
Lately I've come to conclusion that no one can talk to me about love unless they have been marred for 50 PLUS years.
This thinking has been generated through observations and listening to others in my family who have been divorced, are going through one or are considering one. One of the things I have noticed has been... the men in my family choosing bi-polar chics or chics with bi-polar traits as their wives.
As I listen to situations of my relatives, from every angle possible, I can't help but wonder what attracted them to such females in the first place. I also wonder... are we (the family) being too rash in using the term "bi-polar" to describe these wayward females, because the term does seem more convenient and easily acceptable in today's society?
Honestly, in light of some things that I've experienced or witnessed I'm realizing everyone in this world is messed up in their own way and is hurting deep within.
...Well it seems like it.
How messed up can a man be to threaten his children lives to spite his wife and eventually drowning them in a tub, but too chicken to kill himself afterwards? (thinking of the man from Silver Spring, MD who killed his kids in a Baltimore Hotel)
How messed up can a grown woman be to not want to come to the aid of her mom, who has Alzheimer's, because of how she treated you when you were growing up? (thinking of a distant cousin here)
Sometimes I think of Seal's "Crazy" song and even quote some of the lyrics
"We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy."
Yet, how "crazy" is too crazy? Is being crazy the only way to survive this life?
Imagine the great force of things (positive or negative) when defense mechanisms are unmasked.
WOW!
To think...some folks think I'm crazy because I hate and most of the time don't wear a coat in the winter, I do the same with stockings, wear high heels all the time, will bus out with the "Spider Pig" song at any given moment and will mix anything in a bowl like cabbage, rice, a cheese egg and scrambled salmon.
Some might even call me crazy cause I had a slight breakdown a few years back. They called Brandy and Mariah Carey "crazy" when they had theirs and not wanting to understand that it was just as simple as self-inflicted exhaustion.
When did this world get to be so over baring causing all these "bi-polar" or depression disorders and almost making it hip to be declared such? Think: Bobby Brown trying to use bi-polar as an excuse to escape a marijuana charge a few years back.
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this post. Just that my mind has been wondering lately about all this bi-polar talk amongst my family, friends and society.
So really... is it "safe" to say that EVERYONE walking this earth needs some kind of mood stabilizer just to make it through the day? Would this world function a lot better with everyone taking "the happy pill"?
Granted, bi-polar disorder is a serious issue as the ramifications from it can be devastating. Still maybe this term is just a little convenient to use, especially if no one understands "the strange and abnormal," of even if the "strange" doesn't want to help themselves to be seen in another light - if that makes any sense...
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.
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?
I have a new addiction.
I did have this well thought out and perhaps long entry I wanted to spew about it, but lately my attention span is that of a child hopped up on a sugar rush.
I gotta keep moving.
Only thing I can say at this point is... I totally feel Jay-Z's lyrics to his "I Know"
What's been going on..what I've been pondering on writing about are some realizations that has been brought to my attention.
It's nothing bad, but more so of me facing some fears of mine about being in a (possible) relationship.
From hanging out with my girls over the weekend, to having dinner with Papi last night, to speaking with Brandon earlier today about his relationship and even some of my fears - it's been interesting to all these perspectives come together making me ask myself;
Self, where do we go from here?
Needless to say.. with my new "addiction" I can't help wonder if it's all just a pure lust, a hidden relapse into the old me of finding solace in the wrong place or is this something materializing into something more genuine? Is this something working on both ends in which a divine master plan is involved?
As I sit and marinate on these thoughts... I'll just keep Jay-Z on repeat for a while.
*Note about the song: While I see two possible meanings to the song- 1.) Jay talking from the point of view of a drug to a drug addict 2) Jay taking a spin and speaking about love and making himself a drug to the so-called "addict." I'm taking the second meaning in regards to my situation.
I Know
By: Jay-Z
Album: American Gangsta
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like
Everything you love
I know what you like
Everything you love
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you like ....HOV
Uh-
She wants that old thing back
Uh- uh- uh-
She want those Heroin tracks
She likes me
She fiends for me nightly
She leans for me
Morning she rush for my touch
This is about LUST
Cold sweats occur when I'm not with her
My presence is a must- must- must-
Bonita Applebum, i gotta put you on
If i didn't when we cuttin' the feeling would be too strong
In any form, I'm giving you sweet dreams
That Sugar Hill, she call me her sweet thing
That Black Rain that take away your pain
Just for one night, baby, take me in vein
Now that feelin' got you trippin'
You no wanna feel no differently
Said lust has got you itchin'
Nose wide open and its' drippin' -eh -eh -eh -eh
I know what you like, i am your prescription
I'm your physician, I'm your addiction
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like
Everything you love
I know what you like
Everything you love
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you like ....HOV
I am so DOPE
Like Louboutins with the red bottoms
You gotta have 'em, you glad you got 'em
Like every color Giuseppe's, your guilty pleasure is me
Its so much fun, you shun therapy
Although it never be, the feeling is fleeting
Shopping's like coppin', you constantly need it
I'm never around, you constantly seek it
You'll never be down, i know where your peak is
9 1/2 weeks is better than 12-steps
I keep tryin' to remind you to keep tellin' yourself
Now your conscience is interfering, like "Better yourself!"
Like you better get help
But when that medicine's felt?
We're back together
Don't ever leave me
Don't ever let 'em tell you that you'll never need me
My China White, 'til we D.O.A.
Its Montego forever, baby, lets get away....
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like
Everything you love
I know what you like
Everything you love
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you like ....HOV
How could you leave me?
I thought that you needed me!
When the world got too much and you pleaded with me--
Who helped you immediately?
How speedy of me!
How could you deny me so vehemently?
Now your body is shakin' trying to free it of me
And your soul is in control, trying to lead it from me
And your heart no longer pledge allegiance to me
Damn, I'm missing the days when you needed the D
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like
Everything you love
I know what you like
Everything you love
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
And I Know And I Know
I know what you like ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you love ....HOV
Baby you like ....HOV
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.
The love making is nonstop.
He starts off by whispering into my ears lullabies of how he once ruled in that place with the Nile flows North.
He was The Black Pharaoh and I was right there at his side
Together we had conceived Isis.
Just as morning merges with the afternoon sun, he slides inside...inside my mind.
He puts me to the test as he shares knowlegde and ask rhetorical questions.
He makes me wonder.... he makes me hibernate in that deep abyss of his thoughts.
In the abyss of thoughts I am lost.
I struggle to respond
I can diffinately feel my girl Jill from Philly when she said "He had me tongue tied..tongue tied he had me"
I almost drown.
But I don't
He is there with me... Stroking with me.
Until we find our words embracing each other within our sea of thoughts
When the sun gives away to the incoming night air
It is only then that we emerge from the abyss and find ourselves drenched in each other's thoughts.
It is then that we realize that this is more than just a one night stand.
Indeed this is a thrist that we seek to quench.
It's passion. Passion for each other's thoughts that keep us going.
I let him inside once more, but he doesn't jump at the chance.
He's a tease
He leaves me with his Street Scriptures.
Got me wondering again as he tells of how he gets by in his daily life.
Got me wondering again as he tells me how he loves the big round behinds and how many different ways there is to admire it.
I know he was just fooling around, but still...
He left me with a cliffhanger.
But he makes up for it just as the sweet smells of the day turn into a midnight dew
My archangel watches over me.
Just as I close my eyes - that's when the truth hits me.
He hasn't claimed me
We just make love
But if we make love like this now, what would it be like if he claimed me?
Like heaven
Like sweet butter on a biscuit
Like rich velvet chocolate
Like Sweet honeysuckle
Like heaven
Heaven
That is where I want to be
That is where he takes me
This is how we make love.
(c) Blackvelveteen@Diary-X 2003
Excuse me.... I must go....
Purple Rain just cued on my ITunes library and I need to go in a corner and "get in my feelings"
Early Sunday morning, after I wrote my Emotional Slut confessional, I flipped through channels and eventually stopped at one of the televised church services. Sometimes, if I'm lucky I'll catch my girl Joyce Meyer. However, early Sunday brought on someone who is local in the DC metro area. A female pastor with a church in Woodbridge, VA was speaking on betrayal. I missed the part of her sermon inwhich she talked about how to heal if you are the one being betrayed, but I was right on time to hear the healing portion for the betrayer.
After mentioning how the betrayer should first seek repentance, the next step is to apologize. As simplistic as this may be this is very key. She mentioned how folks don't know how to apologize. When apologzing, simply do it. Don't say "I'm sorry," and then go into a long hub blub of an explaination. That explainantion or extra verbage will eventually cancel out your apology and will make it less sincere.
I wondered how many times (while not really betraying a person) have I apologized to someone and went into my long spill of the why and whatnots. I can honestly say, when I've done that I truly feel and know what I did was straight BS my way through and/or out of something. While I don't want to be known as a person who is full of shit, sometimes it does hapen that way. True, there is no excuse for it.
More than likely, this is also why I catch an instant headache or attitude if someone is apologizing to me and giving a whole bunch of extra verbs, adjectives, nouns, prefixes, suffixes, conjunctions and etc behind it.
What's interesting to note is, after sleeping off my emotional state I woke up wanting to apologize to Papi for dumping or unloading so much at 3 something in the morning and expecting him to make it alright. Yet, I was still scared that I may have frightened him off with my ambush. Somwhere in my perplexing contemplative state I received a text message from Papi.
He simply apologized for falling asleep on me and wanted to know if I was feeling better and if there was anything else I needed to get off my chest.
*taking a moment to catch my breath - gotta love it*
Instead of seizing the opportunity to ramble off more of what I had been feeling, I decided to hold back. I told him I was fine and even made a joke that if I did have something else to get off my chest I'll be sure to let him know at 2 am. Of course he knew that was a joke.
I swear I can be so "flip-dizzy" with my emotions, but who isn't?
I'm glad for those that stick with me through it.
I guess if I were to apologize to anyone, especially Papi it would be....
I apologize for being so abnormal??????
Then again... being abnormal may not be so bad.
Wait.. did I just cancel out an apology?
Who the hell cares...
