32 posts tagged “single life”

 

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.

 

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.  

Ten years ago this year I graduated from high school.

My next door neighbor "K" is a senior at my alma mata.  Ironically her aunt is the music/choir instructor there - thanks in part to my mom who told her about the opening during my freshman year when the janky instructor at the time was being a bit of a scatter brain.

Lately I've been taking a special notice in K.  It's hard to believe she is the same "girl" who would stick up under her aunt during our choir rehearsals. This is same chic that would get a kick out of my father's antics and would bring him a small token back from her family vacation. In a way I've unspokenly called her my little sis, especially since her schooling sorta followed in my foot steps.  Aside from  high school, she also attended the same elementary/jr high I attended.

Nevertheless, I've taken some joy or delight in watching K grow up before my eyes. I've figured this must be what it felt like for my long time neighbors to watch me grow in front of them. Proud and filled with a sense of pride. I'm even more excited for K as prom time is coming up. By my calculations (and if the school still runs on the same "graduation schedule") prom should either be this weekend or next. Graduation should be three weeks away.

In silently traveling the senior year journey with K, I can't help but to revisit some of my own feelings about my high school experience, especially as my class reunion is set for July. A couple of inquires have been sent to me via email or MySpace asking if I will be in attendance. I answered an old friend back via MySpace by telling her that most likely not. I hope to be doing some traveling around that time.  Another old friend, who I was close with back then and reconnected with via the internet, is a part of the committee. She's been keeping me informed of what's what - not to mention the postcard mailer and the reunion package sent to my house.  Then just the other day, a third friend sent me an email asking would I be there. I haven't responded.

My feelings about high school are very indifferent. Yes, there are a few people I would love to see again - mainly the few folks that survived high school with me. However, I really didn't like high school.  It was a Catholic institution with a diverse group of students but majority Black. We were probably considered the most (or perhaps one of the) ghetto schools in the Archdiocese. I say that in light of some of the "upper crust Catholic schools" I battled with on the tennis court during my time on the varsity tennis team. A lot of us (students) came from a decent background or home life and yet I still didn't like the school. For a while I use to think it was because of the people in the school. Something about everyone urk'd my very nature. I use to think "this one" was too childish or "that one" was spoiled beyond belief. I hated the cliques that presented itself during freshman and sophomore year and believe me by junior year I found myself shaking my head at a lot of dissovled friendships. 

No. I wasn't any kind of outcast or some reject that everyone ignored. No, I wasn't popular, but I had friends and I got along with most.  I stayed quite, only trusting a couple, and even then I wasn't all that telling. I was active in choir, tennis and was delighted when I did the photography class and helped out with the year book. Being an aspiring writer, I even helped to come up with something (a passage) to be painted on the school's shed (it's a senior tradition to paint the shed reflecting the school and class spirit of the current senior class)

Still I couldn't stomach high school. I now realize I was expriencing a (perhaps) pre mature growing pain... or maybe not. I blame my Aquarius nature - the wise beyond years "fluff" - because I was soooooooo ready to move on to the next phase of my life. By then I was working part-time in the federal government and I was looking forward to college..more so the (so-called) going away part of college. High school, though it had its excitement, bored me and frustrated me.  Also, I was partially "home-sick," meaning I was missing my "REAL" classmates that I had literally grown up with from Pre-k to 8th grade and desperately tried to stay in contact with. I managed to hold onto one, who after to all these years she still calls me her best friend and I do the same - even in our time of open space as we grew into adulthood.  

It was eneivitable. I was growing up. No turning back.

By my senior year I was in my own world. I still managed to function in school, but slightly talking less to my friends, which prompted some of them to wonder what was up with me and even lightly tease me for being so... "aloof."

After the research paper, finals, prom and graduation I was rid of "them." The class of 1998.

Every once in a while I would bump into someone. On my college campus. At my old OBGYN. At a grocery store. At Ben's Chilli Bowl @ 4 am after a night of clubbing. At the club. Online. On the subway train to work. At the mall.

Then MySpace happened.

(Curse Tom for creating such a daft site)

I won't lie. I was curious to know who turned out to be what and doing what close to ten years later. I sent  a couple of request. Virtually befriended some. Some sent a request to me. Perhaps a few I was shocked that they remembered me. I approved their request. Then some time later I began to get a funny feeling.  It was almost as if I were back in high school again. However, that feeling wasn't just contained to my old classmates, it was really for the whole site.

Then 2008 rolled in with announcements on the reunion.

When the talks first developed about the reunion, for a minute (just a minute) I contemplated on my attendance. Would I really care to see these folks again? In all honesty, no. Other than the couple of friendships from high school that managed to maintain after, I have no connection to my old classmates.

I feel "aloof" again as the excitement around the reunion builds.

I'm sure it will be a swell time for those involved, but I wish to do other things.

High school is so past tense in my book.

 

Forgive me "father" for I have sinned it has been several days, maybe weeks, since my last confession.

I've been on a slight mission ever since I purchased a dress a week or so ago. 

My mission...finding the perfect black patent leather clutch purse.

After my free oil change (thank you Mazda), I ended up at Target today and was very disappointed in their selection. Really... how hard can it be to find a nice black patent leather clutch bag without big silly bows? I know I'm a child of the 80s but DAMN!

COOOOOME OOOOOON!

I steered the cart away from that department, picked up a few items for the Snickerdoodle and landed in heaven. 

My eyes lit up when I saw the stationary/card section.

 

Okay, I don't know what it is about me and greeting cards or stationary exactly. I don't even know when this addiction started. I have a fetish for pretty paper thingys.  I literally have a collection of greeting cards that I have not given to anyone, because they are too pretty to give to just anyone.

Hey some people collect stamps.

Me....

I'm a pretty paper person.

I did manage to pick up a couple of Mother's Day cards that I will be giving to my mother and grandmother. I still have May birthday cards to pick up. oye! 

Eventually the cards I have in my collection will go to someone... well.. I'm not too sure about the card with the glamour high heel (as pictured above). I simply adore that one. So if anyone gets it, they better damn sure appreciate it.

Anywho....

Needless to say, I caved to my greeting card addiction right there in the middle of Target. To hell with the clutch purse...for now.

On to Barnes & Noble.

My original mission with B&N was to pick up the May issue of Allure Magazine (I actually got the last copy! Did everyone know this was the annual "naked" issue?) 

Again, I was in heaven.

1. I was in a freaking bookstore. I miss buying a book or two.

2. B&N has just about any pop culture and sub pop culture magazine you can think of.  I'm a straight up glossy, airbrush, feature writing, artistic photography, quirky article, inspirational and motivational, 1,000 word count..... WHORE!

 

 

 

Along with Allure, I picked up two of my favs.

Black Book and Fader (oh I missed reading Fader!)

I also picked up the 2008 edition of Writer's Market! Oh how I NEED this as I scope out who to query for freelance projects and even further my search for a literary agent!

(Big Score for me!)

Also, I could not resist another Jennifer Weiner book.

 

OK! Stop! Hold it! The last book by Weiner that I actually own, read and loved was her first, Good In Bed. I could relate to that book on so many levels - and probably even more so now. Ironically I thought about that book last night. I had the urge to re-read it, but my butt was too lazy to get out of bed to hunt for it in my maze of boxes and such thanks to renovation inconvenience. I never got around to reading In Her Shoes, which I'm mad at myself for - since I wanted to read the book before seeing the movie. I didn't bother picking up Little Earthquakes, because after reading the synopsis I wasn't interested. However, today I just couldn't refuse her latest, Certain Girls. The story picks up where Good in Bed left off. So yes... if you are a Jennifer Weiner reader... Cannie Shapiro is back!

With nothing much more to say I would like to be excused now from today's confession.  I'm eager to do some self assigned homework in drumming up some ideas, reading a chapter or two in The Purpose Driven Life and skim through my magazines while drinking some ice tea and wiggling my toes under my covers.

If there shall be a penance for my addictive ways let it be the Snickerdoodle refusing to sleep unless she curls up with me. I can handle that.

 

*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.

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
 

 

 

After a quick run to Bethesda, MD, the Snickerdoodle and I skipped back into town and caught the current exhibit of orchids at the U.S. Botanic Garden. Originally I was going to save this for a sunny spring (like) day, but I figured we could do it today. I didn't feel like being in the house and I'm sure neither did she. She was giddy getting up this morning, eating her breakfast, taking her bath and getting dressed. Screw our internal clocks that are still pretty much jacked up from the early time change.

Needless to say it's going a little after 8:30 pm and the Snickerdoodle is in her bed - ZONK'D.

Luckly me to have found an available two hour meter near the building. I guess today was our day for an outing afterall.

For today's entry, I'm sharing some of the photos I took as the Snickerdoodle and I - more so me - oogled at the orchids. If anyone can tell that knows or doesn't know me well enough... Orchids are my absolute favorite flower. Any kind party/function I have MUST have orchids.

Yes.. I'm making it mandatory.

I still have a few more photos to load onto Flickr, but really I don't have the patience for all of that right now.

If anyone is catching this post via Google, surfing, etc and you are a resident of the DC area or planning to visit, I urge that you check out this beautifully exquisite exhibit. It is indeed an annual affair, so if you miss it this year don't fret. For more details check out the US Bostanic Garden website.

Well enough chatter....enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The outside garden isn't in "season" or in bloom yet. However I'm so captivated by the Butterfly benches inside the outside garden. Again.. butterflies are one of my favorite "things." (just check out my tattoo - if you're lucky) I love what they symbolize.  Looking at this bench actually reminds me of the nearby garden kept by the Smithsonian. I will have to get the fame a bit later. A few years back I did a photo journalism project for a journalism course in school. I went to this particular garden by the Smithsonian and captured a few shots of Swan Benches. When I get the energy I shall share my picture portfolio of that particular garden.

 

Well... This is Mahoganie..

Signing off for the evening.

Until next entry.

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.  

All day long

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...  

Hello. My name is Mahoganie and I'm an Emotional Slut.

*waiting for the lackadaisical greeting from fellow emotional sluts*

I should be at peace and still reveling in the awesome experience I've been on with my Aquarius Brother. Instead, it's exactly 4 am and I feel guilty cause I unloaded some emotional baggage to Papi about an hour or so ago.

What happened?

In the midst of coming down from this high (if in my neighborhood you gotta read the last two private entries) I felt a sting. This sting is from something I came upon on this doggone stupid internet. What I found only confirmed what I had believed to be true for months (in regards to the Snickerdoodle's father), so in a way I'm not surprised. I guess what stung was that the "confirmation" was basically an "in your face" kind of thing.  Nevertheless, I know I can survive a sting. A sting is nothing. It's just that for the moment I saw it, it reminded me of past hurt. The same hurt I've been working so hard to overcome.

What's interesting is, part of me feels like a walking contradiction. In talking with my Aquairus Brother, he inquired about my own healing. How did I heal from things I was going through. In so many words I told him it was the fighter within me and I knew deep down I had people who prayed for me when I could find the strength to pray for myself. This is true, but what I failed to mention was something that is probably the most relevant and most vital information he could use.

When it comes to matters of the heart and healing from a bad break up, especially when it (seems) catostrophic, it's really a day by day process, especially when it is a situation that you have put your heart, soul and the very core of you into the situation only to be drained of your total being.

Here, I've been AB's "cheerleader" - as he has been calling me - when I still probably need a cheerleader of my own.

In comes Papi.

After receiving my sting I reached out to Papi. I felt bad in doing so, because it felt like the old me was rearing her ugly head.

The old me - when I get lonely or upset I reach for a male companion and .....downward spiral.

It's late at night. I have a feeling Papi is sleeping after a long day.....week...... of working two jobs.  Still I send a text message asking if he was up.

An hour or so later he reponded and from there I unloaded.

What's even more insultating is the fact that in the midst of my unloading I even mentioned how I missed him and didn't know why.

I will not use Papi as a crutch. I will not use Papi as a crutch. I will not use Papi as a crutch.

Even worse...

I don't know if it was because my signal was fading and he couldn't get through (if he tried at all) or if he was still tired and fell back asleep, or if it was because he felt ambushed... I did all of my unloading only to be met with silence.

No text message alert

No Maxwell blaring out "where ever, whenever, whatever" to signal that I have phone call from Papi

Nothing.

I've never been the needy type.. but I need something right now.

If I stay up longer, I'm sure I can make church.

(wait I need some kind of sleep) 

I need a prayer that's for sure.

With only about a week to go, I feel like I'm facing dooms day. Before last week I was frequently forgetting my approaching birthday. So many thoughts at once consuming me, when did I have time to think about such an event? Besides, I'm too worried about what I'm going to do for the Snickerdoodle's first birthday taking place in March. Yet, as subtle reminders are coming at me from all angles - friends asking me what's up, family members asking me if I want them to keep the Snickerdoodle so I can go out, sly remarks about growing old, hearing T making plans for her own birthday - I'm forced to face it.

February THE 8th.

So what's the big deal? I'm not quite 30 yet, but I'm past the 25 mark. I'm not so sure why my body or my mind is not trying to own up to this day. Today I Finally I noticed how I'm avoiding THE 8th like the plague. Today when I thought about my birthday a strange feeling come over me and I suddenly felt a little choked or suffocated. Actually it was more like a jolt within my insides and my heart started to pump a little faster causing my breaths to feel a lil choppy - hence the sudden choked up feeling. Do I need to see a cardiologist or am I on the verge of a panic attack?

What's crazy is, a few weeks ago I left a comment on a blog entry of one of my fellow readers. She seemed a bit lament about turning 50. In so many words I told her to feel blessed about her age, especially since she has a spirit of aging gracefully. It's crazy because, there I was a 20 something year old encouraging someone who is 30 something years her senior about her age - telling her to embrace it with love.  Yet, I'm avoiding mine for whatever reason and can't seem to grasps the notion that time is not standing still for me.

For the last few years I've been living a life of ... well... living. However, I wonder how much living am I actually doing?

I hate it when I fall into the rut of examining things I've done and things I can do but haven't done.  Of course the best course of action is to.. well TAKE ACTION. In my case, I've taken action but have left many things undone. I would like to think I'm the gal who finishes what she starts. However, I'm scared that it may be all fluff with me. Suddenly I feel this inner fear that what if I'm the gal with all these big ideas and dreams in her head, but it turns out I'm the exact person that I've been fighting not to become.

The person being... the average chic that is out here with just a 9 to 5, comes home, tends to her child, pays bills, goes out once in a blue moon (for special occasions only) and just living day to day.. not really living to her full potential.

This fear, sadly, didn't just come about. I believe it has always been here, but it's starting to rear its ugly head at this point in my life.

After reading the current issue of Essence Magazine with Tyra Banks on the cover, I have soooo much respect for Tyra. Even though the article is not real in depth about what Tyra is experiencing at this current point in time of her life, I appreciate some of her comments, especially concerning what has been a motivation behind all that she does. Basically she says it's her fear that pushes her to the point where it's as if she HAS to work as hard as she does. What's her fear? I gather from when she briefly talked about her background; how her parents got a divorce and her father kept the house, leaving her mother with two kids to live in a small 2 bedroom apartment in South Central Los Angeles. Her mother slept on the living room floor - Trya's fear is going back to having no type of security from the one she has built for herself.

My respect for Tyra comes from her insistence of turning her fear into a motivation. I'm sure I can do with the same with this nagging fear or fears that plague me. However, with the respect I have for her, I don't want my life to make a slight fill-in-a-void turn. Within the article, Tyra also mentions how since she has moved to New York she does feel a sense of loneliness. During the day she is working and interacting with a lot of people, but when the lights and cameras are off she goes home alone to no one.

Loneliness is totally a different topic altogether for me. For the most part I believe I have it licked, being that I don't indulge and wallow in it like I use to, by seeking a filler for the void. Still, loneliness does creep in every once in a blue moon, and of course it's not a good feeling. Tears somehow find a way to flow real freely during those points.

Where was I going with this entry?

Well.. back to my birthday... I'm not sure how I want to celebrate this one, if at all.  I was just on my instant messenger having a conversation with Rah. I was telling her that I finally realized what I would like to have as a gift.

A make over...

A couple of new outfits, with some nice shoes.

A day at the spa for a hot stone massage and a good facial, with a pedicure and manicure to boot.

A fresh hair style. 

Rah: "awww that would be nice for u"

Indeed it would be... if only I can stop trying to avoid it.

On a somewhat related note:

I read my horoscope for today.

Aquarius:

Quickie:
Deal with your deep feelings about your career. Talk to someone who's been there.

Overview:
Reach out to someone you don't know very well -- or with whom you've been feuding. Today brings just the right energy to make strong connections with those who are far removed from your daily life.

 

Interesting to say the least. Part of what I vox'd about just now has to deal with my feelings on being "this" writer.