I was hoping that if I ignored it long enough, it would go away. But that theory isn't holding up in a lot of areas of my existence right now. In fact, in some cases, ignoring the issue has caused it to expand to the point to where I can no longer be an ostrich.
I have to do my taxes, I have to have the talk, I have to go to the doctor, I have to write some letters, I have to follow up on some things....where did the time go?
I will blog later, I got stuff to do.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Body Conscious
Truth be told, I don't have any real hang ups about my body. It is what it is. Please don't think that because I want to lose a pound or two that I am tripping about it. I am not. I will not starve myself or diet for that matter. I am not interested in surgery. Some things are just genetic, so I can squat all I want, it ain't going nowhere! Knowing is half the battle.
My only hang up is those daggum low rise jeans. I want some new jeans that cover more than half my assets. Oh and one more thing, just because I am petite, does not mean I am 80!
My only hang up is those daggum low rise jeans. I want some new jeans that cover more than half my assets. Oh and one more thing, just because I am petite, does not mean I am 80!
On Second Thought
He is more attactive than I initially thought. We met at Einsteins and talked over bagels and drinks. It was nice. He is interesting. He likes to travel. He seems very active. We have that in common. Quite the charmer. Not in any rush. We'll see.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Betcha Didn't Know....
How silly I can be, especially when I establish a level of comfort with a person. The shell comes off and...and I let go of my defenses.
I don't know why I have tried to hide that side of me from you all this time. I felt myself loosening up, but then you had that funny little blond joke and then the refrain, that maybe I took a little personally. Now subconsciously, I feel an underlying pressure to prove to you that I am not ditzy. I don't like the idea of having to prove anything, particularly on a personal level.
I just haven't found a comfort zone with you yet and that's ok. Maybe I feel like I am not good enough for you, maybe I feel like you are judging me. I don't know what it is....
But you may not be ready for Ms. J unleashed anyway. I am playful, competitive, and I tend to sing and dance a lot. I don't sing or dance well...I even make up silly songs.
I don't know why I have tried to hide that side of me from you all this time. I felt myself loosening up, but then you had that funny little blond joke and then the refrain, that maybe I took a little personally. Now subconsciously, I feel an underlying pressure to prove to you that I am not ditzy. I don't like the idea of having to prove anything, particularly on a personal level.
I just haven't found a comfort zone with you yet and that's ok. Maybe I feel like I am not good enough for you, maybe I feel like you are judging me. I don't know what it is....
But you may not be ready for Ms. J unleashed anyway. I am playful, competitive, and I tend to sing and dance a lot. I don't sing or dance well...I even make up silly songs.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Welcome to the 21st Century
This week has changed my life. I sucked it up and got an IPOD. I even had it engraved: Ms J's Pod - Must Be the Music. I am so thrilled. What is even more exciting is that I can hook it up to my car stereo and I no longer have to be sujected to Britney Spears and J-Lo. I can play whatever music I want - anytime I want! How liberating!
Music is such a huge part of my life. It helps give me that extra push at the gym, or offers a little insight, allows me to have the best pity parties, or helps me get my groove on. I have something for every mood. I have been loading everything from gospel to hard rock to jazz. I think the hardest thing for me is creating a playlist, because my taste is so diverse, I can go from one extreme to the next in mere moments. But that's half the fun.
Music is such a huge part of my life. It helps give me that extra push at the gym, or offers a little insight, allows me to have the best pity parties, or helps me get my groove on. I have something for every mood. I have been loading everything from gospel to hard rock to jazz. I think the hardest thing for me is creating a playlist, because my taste is so diverse, I can go from one extreme to the next in mere moments. But that's half the fun.
The Dealbreaker
I am just not sure where to draw the line. I am not even sure how I feel about that. I never contemplated it before on a serious level. I think I want to get to know you, but maybe there is no point. I was so excited when I saw you standing there waiting to talk to me. Perhaps it was a mixture of feelings: I needed an escape from the cigar smoke and those boyish good looks didn't hurt, and maybe, just maybe you were the first person who I actually wanted to talk to the entire night. I was actually ready to go before you showed up. You are so polite - check, I am a sucker for manners. And you are from the South - check,....even better, you are gainfully employed - check, you are not a drunk, check. This is incredible 4 checks in less than 30 minutes. Most guys are eliminated in the first minute of conversation, if conversation even occurs. BUT, you live in NJ. Disappointment, but I like you...it's only 2.5 hours away, I think. Maybe every other weekend or something, we could hang out - Baltimore one weekend, NJ the next - it could work.... what am I thinking - I just met you. You called to make sure I got home safe - ok this could really work.
So I get all excited about the idea of uh (well, I don't know), the idea of something (as opposed to nothing) and then you tell me. You're divorced. What? You have 2 kids... Whoa... that's heavy. That's grown folk stuff. I don't know how I feel about that. I was so floored I couldn't even ask the questions I wanted to. That's a lot of baggage. I don't really even mind the kids so much.... I just have this thing. I want to be a first wife. Maybe it's from watching The Joy Luck Club, or maybe that is how I thought it was supposed to be. And even still - I am contemplating - something. There is something about you. I think we could have a lot of fun together....
But just to be clear, I am still in sorta/kinda land with someone else. The one that defies logic. We still haven't "talked".
So I get all excited about the idea of uh (well, I don't know), the idea of something (as opposed to nothing) and then you tell me. You're divorced. What? You have 2 kids... Whoa... that's heavy. That's grown folk stuff. I don't know how I feel about that. I was so floored I couldn't even ask the questions I wanted to. That's a lot of baggage. I don't really even mind the kids so much.... I just have this thing. I want to be a first wife. Maybe it's from watching The Joy Luck Club, or maybe that is how I thought it was supposed to be. And even still - I am contemplating - something. There is something about you. I think we could have a lot of fun together....
But just to be clear, I am still in sorta/kinda land with someone else. The one that defies logic. We still haven't "talked".
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Daughters
In case you didn't know, I have huge father issues. I read this article in EUR (which is a daily urban entertainment mag) this morning and it struck a huge nerve with me. Here is their web address http://eurweb.com
Steven Ivory is one of their regular columnist and is quite talented :)
STEVEN IVORY: Eyes of Her Father
Fathers be good to your daughters/
Daughters will love like you do
--"Daughters," John Mayer
Dear Sir--
We've never met. But in a way that
is both ironic and quite logical, I've gotten
to know you very well. Through your daughter.
She mentions you often. Or never.
Either she doesn't communicate
with you--or sees you all the time.
She has shown me photos of you.
The resemblance is uncanny. She's got
your eyes--so wonderfully expressive they
could turn state's evidence without an utterance.
Her mother must have melted the day you
cast your eyes upon her; eyes that,
through your daughter, have had
the same affect on me.
In any case, the more time I spend
with your daughter--the more I get to
know her--the more I can't help think
of you. Those thoughts moved me
to reach out.
You know who you are.
I figured maybe you'd like to know
how she is doing, your daughter. I hope
you do.
She is an A+ university major. She
is the postal worker who delivers my mail.
She is unemployed but confident that soon
she will find the job she wants. She is retired.
She is a doctor. She is homeless. She
is a single mom and secretary, devastating
in Chanel.
Above all else, she is your daughter.
I say all this as if you don't know it.
But even if you do, there are things you
may not know about her, and I hope you
don't consider my telling you out of line.
Your daughter is in pain, sir.
She is having a problem with a certain
part of herself.
The pain is most apparent when she
deals with men. She either goes from
one to the other, hasn't had a man in
years--or stays with the one she is
with simply out of fear or uncomfortable
convenience, as she grapples to define
the line between love and hurt that to
her is torturously blurred.
Quite often, what your daughter
interprets as love is control. Manipulation.
Abuse. You'd think she'd see it sir, considering
her intelligence and common sense. But when
it comes to affairs of the heart--her heart--she
seems clueless.
Sir, you'd be offended if you knew the
men she gives quality time: Men whose
impotent words and shallow actions would
not beguile anyone except a misguided
yearning child, which is what your daughter
becomes in their presence, to be shaped
like warm putty in the crafty hands of
a cold sculptor. She doesn't seem
equipped to know the difference.
Yet, when she allows such intuition,
she knows something is not right. When
she allows this man inside her, she closes
those eyes of yours and surrenders, hoping
this time sex will somehow become love,
strong enough to numb the truth she can't
quite grasp; that her screams of fleeting
ecstasy will drown out the nagging notion
that something is missing.
Her void goes way back. Forgive me
for saying so, sir, but whether or not you
were physically home is inconsequential;
she needed YOU. After all, you were her
first: the first man she ever knew, in many
ways, her first boyfriend. Who you were
back then--how you treated the girl, her
mother, how you treated yourself--forever
established in her susceptible little mind
what a man is.
Thus is the spirit of her life quest.
Through your eyes, she searches for...you.
Since I don't have any children, you might
ask what I know about raising them. I've plenty
of experience, sir. I'm raising yours. Matters
not that she is a grown woman; I am trying
to give her what you didn't. Shame on you.
You ought to see how your daughter
gets treated out here, sir. I wouldn't send
a dog out into the world in the unenlightened
way you dispatched your own flesh and
blood--vulnerable, callow, with no real
perception of what a good man is and
thus no protection from a bad one.
Ultimately, I sympathize with you.
Chances are good you were raised
by the father you became.
However, knowing this doesn't
make me any less weary of meeting,
over and again, a woman who appears
emotionally balanced and forward thinking,
only to learn, at some dramatic twinkling,
that she is your daughter.
She, no doubt, is sick of me, too.
Exhausted by my theorizing what's
missing in her life and what went wrong,
while seldom turning the magnifying glass
upon myself. We both get frustrated. But
in the end, I am grateful that your daughter
puts up with me: a man raised by a good
woman--a woman whose father was
a lot like you.
In spite of all that I have said, sir,
there is one more thing I have to tell you,
something I am obliged to share, something
you truly need to know: Your little girl
loves you. Still. I can see it in her eyes.
Steven Ivory's book, FOOL IN LOVE
(touchstone/Simon & Schuster) is in stores now
or at Amazon.com (www.Amazon.com). Respond
to Steven at STEVRIVORY@AOL.COM or
MYfeedback@eurweb.com
Steven Ivory is one of their regular columnist and is quite talented :)
STEVEN IVORY: Eyes of Her Father
Fathers be good to your daughters/
Daughters will love like you do
--"Daughters," John Mayer
Dear Sir--
We've never met. But in a way that
is both ironic and quite logical, I've gotten
to know you very well. Through your daughter.
She mentions you often. Or never.
Either she doesn't communicate
with you--or sees you all the time.
She has shown me photos of you.
The resemblance is uncanny. She's got
your eyes--so wonderfully expressive they
could turn state's evidence without an utterance.
Her mother must have melted the day you
cast your eyes upon her; eyes that,
through your daughter, have had
the same affect on me.
In any case, the more time I spend
with your daughter--the more I get to
know her--the more I can't help think
of you. Those thoughts moved me
to reach out.
You know who you are.
I figured maybe you'd like to know
how she is doing, your daughter. I hope
you do.
She is an A+ university major. She
is the postal worker who delivers my mail.
She is unemployed but confident that soon
she will find the job she wants. She is retired.
She is a doctor. She is homeless. She
is a single mom and secretary, devastating
in Chanel.
Above all else, she is your daughter.
I say all this as if you don't know it.
But even if you do, there are things you
may not know about her, and I hope you
don't consider my telling you out of line.
Your daughter is in pain, sir.
She is having a problem with a certain
part of herself.
The pain is most apparent when she
deals with men. She either goes from
one to the other, hasn't had a man in
years--or stays with the one she is
with simply out of fear or uncomfortable
convenience, as she grapples to define
the line between love and hurt that to
her is torturously blurred.
Quite often, what your daughter
interprets as love is control. Manipulation.
Abuse. You'd think she'd see it sir, considering
her intelligence and common sense. But when
it comes to affairs of the heart--her heart--she
seems clueless.
Sir, you'd be offended if you knew the
men she gives quality time: Men whose
impotent words and shallow actions would
not beguile anyone except a misguided
yearning child, which is what your daughter
becomes in their presence, to be shaped
like warm putty in the crafty hands of
a cold sculptor. She doesn't seem
equipped to know the difference.
Yet, when she allows such intuition,
she knows something is not right. When
she allows this man inside her, she closes
those eyes of yours and surrenders, hoping
this time sex will somehow become love,
strong enough to numb the truth she can't
quite grasp; that her screams of fleeting
ecstasy will drown out the nagging notion
that something is missing.
Her void goes way back. Forgive me
for saying so, sir, but whether or not you
were physically home is inconsequential;
she needed YOU. After all, you were her
first: the first man she ever knew, in many
ways, her first boyfriend. Who you were
back then--how you treated the girl, her
mother, how you treated yourself--forever
established in her susceptible little mind
what a man is.
Thus is the spirit of her life quest.
Through your eyes, she searches for...you.
Since I don't have any children, you might
ask what I know about raising them. I've plenty
of experience, sir. I'm raising yours. Matters
not that she is a grown woman; I am trying
to give her what you didn't. Shame on you.
You ought to see how your daughter
gets treated out here, sir. I wouldn't send
a dog out into the world in the unenlightened
way you dispatched your own flesh and
blood--vulnerable, callow, with no real
perception of what a good man is and
thus no protection from a bad one.
Ultimately, I sympathize with you.
Chances are good you were raised
by the father you became.
However, knowing this doesn't
make me any less weary of meeting,
over and again, a woman who appears
emotionally balanced and forward thinking,
only to learn, at some dramatic twinkling,
that she is your daughter.
She, no doubt, is sick of me, too.
Exhausted by my theorizing what's
missing in her life and what went wrong,
while seldom turning the magnifying glass
upon myself. We both get frustrated. But
in the end, I am grateful that your daughter
puts up with me: a man raised by a good
woman--a woman whose father was
a lot like you.
In spite of all that I have said, sir,
there is one more thing I have to tell you,
something I am obliged to share, something
you truly need to know: Your little girl
loves you. Still. I can see it in her eyes.
Steven Ivory's book, FOOL IN LOVE
(touchstone/Simon & Schuster) is in stores now
or at Amazon.com (www.Amazon.com). Respond
to Steven at STEVRIVORY@AOL.COM or
MYfeedback@eurweb.com
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Rent
I haven't seen a musical in a long time, so seeing the BACI production of RENT was a rare treat. In a nutshell, Rent is a modern version of the opera La Boheme in which a community of artists struggle to survive and celebrate living in NYC. The community is plagued with HIV, and our forced to deal with the reality of homelessness, loss, and living for the moment. While I couldn't personally relate to the plot (thankfully), I embraced the idea of living in the moment.
The cast was absolutely amazing. I particularly enjoyed Mimi. Mimi is a dancer with a drug problem and HIV. She is the love interest of Roger, a struggling musician, who also has HIV. Roger dreams of writing a meaningful song one day, but just can't come up with anything. He finally does and sings it to Mimi as she is dying. Mimi is brought back to life through her guardian "Angel". Angel is a transvestite who in generally brought the community together. She dies from AIDS, but seemed to watch over them from above.
I wasn't crazy about some elements of the plot, but I loved the music. I am glad I went to see it.
The cast was absolutely amazing. I particularly enjoyed Mimi. Mimi is a dancer with a drug problem and HIV. She is the love interest of Roger, a struggling musician, who also has HIV. Roger dreams of writing a meaningful song one day, but just can't come up with anything. He finally does and sings it to Mimi as she is dying. Mimi is brought back to life through her guardian "Angel". Angel is a transvestite who in generally brought the community together. She dies from AIDS, but seemed to watch over them from above.
I wasn't crazy about some elements of the plot, but I loved the music. I am glad I went to see it.
Trauma in the D.R. (Dressing Room)
All I wanted was a cheap, cute top to wear out. I don't know what in the world possessed me to think that just because I lost a pound or two, I could fit into a size small top. What a debacle! I knew I was at the point of no return when it fit over my head and it got stuck. I couldn't move it up or down. I finally managed to get it to budge and of course it looked as bad as it felt. I tried to take it off, but it wouldn't come off. I kept trying and trying and it just wouldn't move. I panicked. I froze. I thought for a moment that it was never coming off. Then I thought perhaps, I could ask the sales attendant to help. Then I thought better of it, considering how embarrassed I would have been to have a total stranger help me get out of top that was clearly way too small. For a moment, I thought I would have to cut the top open to get it off, which meant I would probably have to purchase it, and the thought of purchasing something that caused me that much pain was unbearable. So,after all that contemplation, I started trying again. And I just couldn't get the thing past my arms, so even crazier that the idea of trying the top on the first place, I thought I might be able to slide it past my hips. Silly wrabbit! So back to square one. Finally, inexplicably it started to budge on one side, so I shimmied back and forth until - sweet freedom! That was the longest 15 minutes of my life.
Lessons Learned:
(1) I am not a size small
(2) I am too big (and possibly too old) to shop in skinny girl stores; i.e Forever 21, Rave, Charlotte Russe etc.
Lessons Learned:
(1) I am not a size small
(2) I am too big (and possibly too old) to shop in skinny girl stores; i.e Forever 21, Rave, Charlotte Russe etc.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Indecision
I am ready. I can feel it. But I just can't decide what I want to do. I have so many ideas, and yet I just can't pick one. I haven't been this indecisive in a long time. I guess I need to do a pros and cons thing. I am deciding what I want script I want to write next. I am deciding between a family type flick (feature length), a college themed dramatic series (of which I would be writing the pilot and hopefully developing more scripts); ambitious, I know. I am also considering a documentary or a feature length chick flick. I also have an idea regarding stolen identity - geez, this is why I am confused. I just need to spend a day alone with my thoughts and my pros and cons and figure out what I want to write.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
The N Word
I went out on a date a few nights ago. I know - it's shocking! The date itself was cool - we had a nice time. But there was one thing that bothered me - a lot. During our conversation, my date constantly dropped the N word as if it were a normal word. He said at least 5 times and each time it made me cringe inwardly. What made it worse is I didn't even have the spine to say something about it. It seemed as if that was just his way - not really my place to change it. I like him as a person, but I can't ever see us being together, which probably why I didn't say anything.
I hate the N word and most variations of it. I hate it in rap songs, I hate it used as a term of endearment, I hate it when it spews off the lips of hatemongers. But I hate it most when black people use it to describe other black people. That is so...self-loathing. I don't understand how [we] can embrace such an ugly word. I can only think of one word that I hate more....
Here are my top 3.
1. Cunt - this is the one word that if directed at me, would probably be enough to provoke me to fight. I hate this word more than any other word. It is mysoginistic and it just sounds bad. I have never been a fan on the "unt" sound. Those three letters next to each other rarely make for a nice sounding word.
2. Nigger or nigga (see above)
3. Behoove - this word sucks. Because it just sounds funny.
I said all that to say, there probably won't be a second date.
I hate the N word and most variations of it. I hate it in rap songs, I hate it used as a term of endearment, I hate it when it spews off the lips of hatemongers. But I hate it most when black people use it to describe other black people. That is so...self-loathing. I don't understand how [we] can embrace such an ugly word. I can only think of one word that I hate more....
Here are my top 3.
1. Cunt - this is the one word that if directed at me, would probably be enough to provoke me to fight. I hate this word more than any other word. It is mysoginistic and it just sounds bad. I have never been a fan on the "unt" sound. Those three letters next to each other rarely make for a nice sounding word.
2. Nigger or nigga (see above)
3. Behoove - this word sucks. Because it just sounds funny.
I said all that to say, there probably won't be a second date.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Thanks Again
I can never say it enough. Thanks for loving me in spite of, not because of. I screw up all the time, and yet you still love me. I complain a lot about what I don't have, instead of appreciating that things I have. There is no question, that I am not where I want to be on this journey - sometimes I feel like I am running (ok, crawling) up a mountain and it feels that I will never make it. How easily I forget that you have been with me so far. My impatience gets the best of me. My optimism have been clouded with uncertainty. My frustration and insecurity(in some instances) have lead to inactivity and avoidance, which at least on a mental level I know is not the way to go. I know that all those situations that I have let frustrate me are for a reason and I even had the nerve to be upset because I don't know what the reason is. I apologize for not trusting you and then feeling so consumed with doubt, fear and anger that I won't even talk to you about it. You know me better than I know myself. You know my deepest desires and my darkest fears. I know that you love me and that you know what is best for me. That is enough for me to know that it will all work out.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Little Things (part 2)
I just can't hold it in any longer....I must express why working late is slowly driving me insane.
1. Watching the majority of people leave on time, when you know you will be there a few more hours.
2. The vacuuming
3. Followed by the buffing
4. The inability to go to the bathroom without tripping over the cleaning crew.
Did I mention the vacuuming, followed by the buffing....
1. Watching the majority of people leave on time, when you know you will be there a few more hours.
2. The vacuuming
3. Followed by the buffing
4. The inability to go to the bathroom without tripping over the cleaning crew.
Did I mention the vacuuming, followed by the buffing....
Hmmmm
I am not sure if I should be grateful or insulted. I guess it would really depend on your intent, and of that, I can never be sure. I have to say, it feels like receiving a guilt flowers - you know the ones you get after he REALLY screwed up. Actually, your intent doesn't matter. That gesture has not and will not buy my heart or mind. My guard is still up...
Thursday, March 10, 2005
The Little Things
Its funny how the little things can make your day. I had a great hair day, hence a good day :)
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
The Truth Shall....
Set you free, is the age old adage that I has been drummed into my head since I was small. But in some cases, I am not so sure.... I think the truth can be difficult to handle, and not everyone can handle it.
For example, how do you tell someone that you care about that they smell bad? Of course you could be blunt and come out and say it, but I am not so sure that is the best approach. You could drop hints, but they may not get it and or they may get it and still be equally offended. Or worse, you can say it and they not believe you...and tell you you are tripping.
How do you tell someone you just aren't attracted to them? You may like them, but the thought of having physical interaction with them is, well you never have thoughts like that?
How do you tell someone that you know why they aren't getting what they want because you heard it through the grapevine, without putting yourself in the middle of a potentially ugly he said, she said, drama?
How do you tell a friend that the man she is madly in love with, is cheating on her?(and you are pretty confident, that this is true) They could end up working things out, and they both end up hating or blaming you...
How and why wuold you answer a question that you know the recipient will not be able to emotionally handle the answer (and in my opinion, have no business asking). I don't ask questions in which I may not be able to handle the answer. There are some truths I just don't need to know. Call me an ostrich, but when the time is right, then maybe I can deal.
How do you tell someone that they suck?
The truth can be sticky. I agree that in some of these instances, telling the truth could result in positive change. I also think it is good to be honest with the ones we love. I am just not sure that honesty at all costs is worth the price.
It's strange with me, because I can be very blunt about things. But sometimes when I say things, it's seems so unreal that another human being would utter those words, that people think that I am not serious, and there is no way I can convince them that I am. Some things have been hurtful, and although that is not my intention (except on two occasions) I don't have malicious intent.
I think in some instances, the truth is something that you have to discover on your own. The burden of truth should not squarely on one person's shoulder. And in a lot of instances, our instincts lead us to the truth anyway. Besides, who appointed me to be the world's liberator?
For example, how do you tell someone that you care about that they smell bad? Of course you could be blunt and come out and say it, but I am not so sure that is the best approach. You could drop hints, but they may not get it and or they may get it and still be equally offended. Or worse, you can say it and they not believe you...and tell you you are tripping.
How do you tell someone you just aren't attracted to them? You may like them, but the thought of having physical interaction with them is, well you never have thoughts like that?
How do you tell someone that you know why they aren't getting what they want because you heard it through the grapevine, without putting yourself in the middle of a potentially ugly he said, she said, drama?
How do you tell a friend that the man she is madly in love with, is cheating on her?(and you are pretty confident, that this is true) They could end up working things out, and they both end up hating or blaming you...
How and why wuold you answer a question that you know the recipient will not be able to emotionally handle the answer (and in my opinion, have no business asking). I don't ask questions in which I may not be able to handle the answer. There are some truths I just don't need to know. Call me an ostrich, but when the time is right, then maybe I can deal.
How do you tell someone that they suck?
The truth can be sticky. I agree that in some of these instances, telling the truth could result in positive change. I also think it is good to be honest with the ones we love. I am just not sure that honesty at all costs is worth the price.
It's strange with me, because I can be very blunt about things. But sometimes when I say things, it's seems so unreal that another human being would utter those words, that people think that I am not serious, and there is no way I can convince them that I am. Some things have been hurtful, and although that is not my intention (except on two occasions) I don't have malicious intent.
I think in some instances, the truth is something that you have to discover on your own. The burden of truth should not squarely on one person's shoulder. And in a lot of instances, our instincts lead us to the truth anyway. Besides, who appointed me to be the world's liberator?
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Whose Is It?
It's mine! Don't ask me again. It is going to be mine until I walk down somebody's aisle and I have some legal papers on a brotha or brother (who knows?)
The Other Side of the World
I heard this song and thought of you. Remember, it was one of your favorite songs in high school. Everytime I hear it, I think of you and all the memories. We had a lot of fun together. I hate that we lost contact after high school. I often wonder what you are doing these days. What do your kids look like? Heck, what do you look like? Your hair was always an everchanging adventure (you sure you don't have a little black in ya?) I don't even know how to go about finding you - I am sure you have a new last name by now....
I miss you a lot. I loved your jokes and the funny way you laughed. I loved how we used to giggle for hours on end about...everything. I felt at home with you. I hope our paths cross once again.
Whatcha doin' baby?
I miss you a lot. I loved your jokes and the funny way you laughed. I loved how we used to giggle for hours on end about...everything. I felt at home with you. I hope our paths cross once again.
Whatcha doin' baby?
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
maybe that's what I should have named this blog....hahaha.
Checked out this flick this evening. It was pretty good. Had some funny moments - a few stereotypical ones, but some really moving moments too. Of course, I cried - I couldn't help, the church scene got me.
The movie raised an interesting question for me. Can a man really be THAT cruel? It's scary to think you could be with a man for 18 years (or any amount of time) and he abuse her like that. He was off the chain. I was scared for a moment that she might actually go back to that fool. She got so wrapped up in revenge (which was kinda funny) that I thought she was about to let a good thing get away. The ending was satisfying.
Checked out this flick this evening. It was pretty good. Had some funny moments - a few stereotypical ones, but some really moving moments too. Of course, I cried - I couldn't help, the church scene got me.
The movie raised an interesting question for me. Can a man really be THAT cruel? It's scary to think you could be with a man for 18 years (or any amount of time) and he abuse her like that. He was off the chain. I was scared for a moment that she might actually go back to that fool. She got so wrapped up in revenge (which was kinda funny) that I thought she was about to let a good thing get away. The ending was satisfying.
Friday, March 04, 2005
What's In It For Me?
Time for me to do some Spring Cleaning again - and this year's motto is "What's In It For Me?" It has taken a long time for me to come to this place. I have had to get over the idea that asking this question makes me seem selfish or the idea that I should give selflessly and not expect anything in return. I even had to deal with the thought that maybe I didn't deserve anything in return. I still do have thoughts like that from time to time - but they are fewer and far between.
It is my time. My time to let go of things, people and thoughts that don't benefit me. If the sacrifice outweighs the benefit (be it tangible or intangible), then count me out. My kindness has been confused with weakness for too long.
So now I am in the assessment stage. Hopefully, by the first of spring, I will be ready to clean my house and start fresh. Maybe if I remove the clutter, there will be space enough for my deepest desires.
It is my time. My time to let go of things, people and thoughts that don't benefit me. If the sacrifice outweighs the benefit (be it tangible or intangible), then count me out. My kindness has been confused with weakness for too long.
So now I am in the assessment stage. Hopefully, by the first of spring, I will be ready to clean my house and start fresh. Maybe if I remove the clutter, there will be space enough for my deepest desires.
Don't "Should" on Me
The thing about unsolicited advice is...it's unsolicited. What makes it even worse is when it includes moral directives like "you should" or "you shouldn't". It would be a little more well received had I asked for an opinion, but if I didn't even ask...and worse yet if I didn't even bring the subject up....that's extra "special"
I already know I have issues. I already know I can be a jerk, impatient and all those other things...so there's no need to tell me that. There's no need to tell me that I "shouldn't" be angry, when I am angry. It will take as long as it takes for me to not be angry anymore.
I am not open to everything. There is a way of offering advice, without trying to ram it down someone's throat - those are usually the people I seek advice from... Advice is simply that - it is not an order. It is optional.
So, if you feel lead of God to should on me, or if you are reading my blog and feel pressed to preach me a sermon, pray for me instead, it will work a lot better.
I already know I have issues. I already know I can be a jerk, impatient and all those other things...so there's no need to tell me that. There's no need to tell me that I "shouldn't" be angry, when I am angry. It will take as long as it takes for me to not be angry anymore.
I am not open to everything. There is a way of offering advice, without trying to ram it down someone's throat - those are usually the people I seek advice from... Advice is simply that - it is not an order. It is optional.
So, if you feel lead of God to should on me, or if you are reading my blog and feel pressed to preach me a sermon, pray for me instead, it will work a lot better.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Get Out of My Face
Thank you once again for putting me in the enviable position to where I am damned if I do, damned if I don't. I want nothing to do with you, yet you keep coming back. I have been trying to keep my distance, yet there you are cheesing in my face. Arrgghh, you bring out the worst in my personality. I am working towards indifference, so that you will not affect me so, but I am not there yet. The thought of you fills my brain with expletives.
On a different note, I am going to get my first mammogram shortly. I am a little nervous about it especially after my doctor explained the process to me. It sounds quite painful. I am a little young, but I am in a high risk category and I have been having a little bit of tenderness. I think this is more for my peace of mind, but the thought of the experience is a little daunting. It could be that my hormones are just acting up again.....
On a different note, I am going to get my first mammogram shortly. I am a little nervous about it especially after my doctor explained the process to me. It sounds quite painful. I am a little young, but I am in a high risk category and I have been having a little bit of tenderness. I think this is more for my peace of mind, but the thought of the experience is a little daunting. It could be that my hormones are just acting up again.....
The Real Deal
Are you the Real Deal or just another distraction? My instincts tell me it's the latter, but time will tell.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Trapped
Lately I have been obsessing about this, and I am starting to feel smothered. I can't seem to re-capture my youthful drive that would propel me out of this place. My need for security has (at least temporarily) outweighed my desire for happiness. What's makes it even worse is, I don't even feel that secure. I don't feel as if I am on solid ground, which makes me wonder....is it all worth it?
It is obvious that the gratification I crave will not be coming from the place where a lot of my energy is expended. However, the still small voice is leading to wait - I know, the patience thing again - that seems to be a recurrent theme for 05. So I will wait, but prepare for something better in the meantime, so when the time is right, I will be ready.
I feel like I am building up strength for something. I am hoping that I can grasp whatever that "thing" is that separates excellence from mediocrity. I am not at excellence yet. I think about it all the time, and sometimes I get exhausted thinking about it. I know I must reclaim my creativity, that is where my freedom lies. I guess that is why I am trying to free my mind of all this noise.
Sometimes I wonder what my voice sounds like. I am not sure it is an entirely unique voice, but I often wonder if others can relate to my quirkiness. I am not overly afrocentric (don't let the afro fool you - I am too cheap to get a relaxer, plus my hair is kinda cool). I am not really an "oreo", nor am I a stereotypical black woman. I am just me, which is all I can be. I am in a weird place spiritually - I love God, but I just wonder where this journey will lead. I want my voice to be heard - whether it is to make people laugh, cry or just offer a new perspective or an old perspective with a twist.
It is obvious that the gratification I crave will not be coming from the place where a lot of my energy is expended. However, the still small voice is leading to wait - I know, the patience thing again - that seems to be a recurrent theme for 05. So I will wait, but prepare for something better in the meantime, so when the time is right, I will be ready.
I feel like I am building up strength for something. I am hoping that I can grasp whatever that "thing" is that separates excellence from mediocrity. I am not at excellence yet. I think about it all the time, and sometimes I get exhausted thinking about it. I know I must reclaim my creativity, that is where my freedom lies. I guess that is why I am trying to free my mind of all this noise.
Sometimes I wonder what my voice sounds like. I am not sure it is an entirely unique voice, but I often wonder if others can relate to my quirkiness. I am not overly afrocentric (don't let the afro fool you - I am too cheap to get a relaxer, plus my hair is kinda cool). I am not really an "oreo", nor am I a stereotypical black woman. I am just me, which is all I can be. I am in a weird place spiritually - I love God, but I just wonder where this journey will lead. I want my voice to be heard - whether it is to make people laugh, cry or just offer a new perspective or an old perspective with a twist.
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