The rain today was pouring down like the EXPERIENCES of my life pouring down on my back. Luckily, I've been blessed with a life of circumstance, so needless to say my deltoids look similar to a tonka truck. When I think about life...
*now thinking.hmmmm. Hand is on the chin. Thumb is moving side to side. Right. Left. Right and left.
Our life, our souls, our experiences, our mood, our happiness revolves around the universe. Our lives change like the weather. People take shape in our lives, floating in and out. Some move fast with the vast winds, others are spread thin, vanishing in our blue skies. Some are consistant, showing their many faces in every season. Some skies are beautiful, some are grey. Wall clouds are sometimes formed just to help us find patience in the storms.
Our dreams are as distant as the stars. The glow can seem so dim and hopeless, yet its mystery can seem so aspiring. The speed of life can be defeating but the calm night skies can give us a moment to breathe. deep. They say after every tornado there is a clear and calm sky. Leaving hope that maybe those shooting stars arent so far.
*thinking again, so it might get dangerous.
I don't think "they" say that though. Therefore, I'm pretty sure I just made that up.
*fresh off the high
Back to this rain shit.
I just love the sounds that come with a package of rainy days. Drops hitting the window, water splashing against the cars, the sounds of a great movie. Makes me wanna crawl in bed next to something soft and hard with matching socks. Makes me wanna stand in the middle of the street and yell out profanity to the tops of my lungs. It makes me wanna say, "fuck you world, I spell my name with an I not a Y!" I just wanna lay in it. Waddle in it. Make lemonade with it. Every drip drop, is like a baby clown with a great joke to tell, tickling my kneck with his baby chin. Let the rain drops trickle down my face and ill pretend they were tears from my eyes. Or maybe I won't be pretending. Walk around in my muddy steel toe boots and splash in puddles, in hopes that it hits one of those fuckin stupid ass soccer moms with the big SUVs. I just want to sit in my room listen to tracy chapman and smoke something, while watching life pass me by. "I got a fast car, I wanna take you to anywhere". Sometimes I take a shower so long the water turns cold just so I can have a rainy day. Rainy days make time seem as if its in slow motion. I don't give a fuck on a rainy day. For others, days like those seems so sad and grey. But to me, its just another day to stop and think about all of the sunny days that will come after. Its like hot sweaty sex! Even Dr. Suess could see the greatness in a rainy day.
"Everytime it rains
I know its good to be alive.
Everytime it rains
I know I'm trying to survive"
-Charlotte Martin
I don't really know what any of this means, maybe you could tell me.
Ha.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
MY PEOPLE, MY PEOPLE: A Myth Can Be Your Bitch
As I walk through this life and all of its vast amounts of EXPERIENCE it throws my way, i want to be OBSERVANT and working hard towards mastering the true meaning of LIVING. I guess if I werent gaining any knowledge my name would be OJ Simpson, or Sara; a college girl apart of the PLUTO Cast of The Real World, who is yet another person moving into the house, engaged, and walking out single and with a new sexually transmitted disease.I mean every season theres at least one of those. So stupid.
Irregardless...
Just a thought
For some foolish reason, I have always been the type of black woman who only dates black men. I guess living in (joke)lahoma somewhat kept me to "stay" and not to "stray", if you will. I mean black women arent a high commodity around these parts.In Oklahoma, it seems to me that there is an unspoken rule that everyone should stick to their kind. That rule only applying to black women and white men. Ive gathered that other women would say they dont date outside of their race because they feel they OWE something to our black men. Some may say attraction is at question. Somehow theyve made up in their minds that only black men have the power to appeal to 2 or more senses. Maybe the stares, grunts, and whispers arent too appealing either. Dont get me wrong, there are black women STRAY, and actually would prefer to. But maybe the truth lies behind the idea that a REAL black woman, oh wait.. before i go further let me give a you a "definition quickie" of a REAL BLACK WOMAN from my EXPERIENCE DICTIONARY.
Real Black Woman noun an african american woman whos ancestors were slaves, with no real knowledge of any other ethnicity other than african decent. Who checks the box African American when filling out the ethnicity portion of an application. Who may or may not have "good hair". Women of various colors, shapes, and sizes. You can find being exploited on your average music video of any kind and "The Maury Show".
Ok now back to the reguarly scheduled program.
....the idea of a REAL black woman ever being physically, financially, mentally, (sane)cially, (def being of sanity), notloudicially,(def to have the ability to shut your damn mouth), and intellectually EQUAL TO non-black women in America does not exist. I call this idea the, Video Vixen Effect. (This idea will be discussed further in another blog). I'm sure that women of other ethnicities would argue that they too feel that this idea exist within their culture. For example, Asian women are known for there beautifully slanted eyes. It is a feature that defines the anatomy and history of the Asian culture. But when Asian women apply make-up to their eyes they dont get the same shading affect as an Italian woman or a black woman would. Some Asian women get surgery on their eyes that tucks the skin of the the eyelid inward so that there is a crease created to give dimension to the eye. Their feeling of inferiority has played such a role in their lives, that they question the very thing that makes them unique in this world. Please take note that I dont think this idea of inferiority only lies in the black community, but in this blog, Im being selfish and will be discussing this idea in terms of black women.
Hypothetical very short story time.
*Reading Rainbow theme song plays*
You're 8. You go to Miss Stephens' 3rd grade class every morning and see that only you and 1 other girl has hair like you. The EXPERIENCE of learning begins. You're CURIOUS and mind is of wonder, as you make your way home after school while humming the tunes of "Superwoman" by Karen White. You walk into the kitchen, "Mama", you say. "Can I please wear my hair down tomorrow for school?". Your mom's heart begins to break when she has to look you in those big brown eyes and tell you, "No girl. You aint no white girl, now go play with your dolls or something". You do as told, and play with your Barbies, only to look at her and see that even the doll, that appears to look like you, has long straight her, a pointy nose, and a flat ass. You hate her, because for some reason you cant understand why she is darker than you and you still don't feel like you can relate. So you watch T.V, you know, Rainbow Bright, Care Bears, Shera, Smurfs, shit like that. OBSERVANT as you are, you notice that NOT a single character looks, sounds, or experiences anything that surrounds you. You will later learn that you will experience this throughout your life, and forced to deal with media that won't show POSITIVE images of women who look like you.
And this is where the EXPERIENCE of anger and confusion begins.
The real reason I wrote this blog.
I had an EXPERIENCE that made me more OBSERVANT than ever. I went to a club one night with a friend. Now we are both dancers and we love to go out, drink, and dance to all types of music, so this club was pretty diverse. I was looking great as usual, because really theres no other options, smelling good, just got paid from one of the 3 jobs I hold, so feeling good too. The DJ is playing Cherry Pie, and thats my cue to take a cigarette break. Im standing there minding my own business when this guy comes up to me, which is the first since I got to the club 2 hours ago. "Hey miss lady" he says. "You sure are looking good tonight". I smile, tell him thanks for the compliment, because I am a lady and do enjoy a compliment every now and then. He continues the conversation by saying, "you sure look good, but you need to put that cigarette down". I don't exactly know why but I become overwhelmingly angry inside. I argue with him a little trying to justify the fact that Im a fuckin' adult, capable of making decisions, good or bad on my own, and why his opinion means nothing to me. Needless to say he moves around. A guy Ive known for years was there as well. We exchange greetings and catch up a little. He's good, Im good. After 2 minutes of small talk he also proceeds to tell me I shouldnt be smoking cigarettes. "It's not cute", he says. At this point I'm ready to close my tab and go home. After this EXPERIENCE, I start seeing a trend in black men when in a club atmosphere. A.not too many holla at me, unless they're scum and really have nothing to loose.B. If they do decide to dance with you they have a need to touch on my body. Disgusting. C. They feel that a black woman who smokes cigarettes should be told that they shouldnt smoke cigarettes.
One day it hit me. My EXPERIENCE as a child, has left me with a sense of inferiority. Overlooked and disrespected by society. Which could explain the deeply rooted feeling of anger and loneliness. I dont deserve to feel this way. I have a lot to give to this world. So Im putting my foot down on all of this nonsense. Because I think there is some confusion as to the place of black women in our own community and in this world. Im disgusted, that we as black women have allowed society to think, disrespect, and talk of us as if were meaningless creatures who are automatically born at the bottom of the food chain. MY BROTHER, I have a few concerns that needs to be addressed.
Here's where the myths play a role in this blog.
1.Black women shouldnt wear make-up because they dont need it.
Is this some egotistical way for you to keep us looking like we just woke up so some other man wont talk to us? No matter what color you are you should wear make up. Im not saying throw blue eyeshadow all over your face, but make up is used to enhance features you already have. If you work at a place where you have to come in contact with lots of people this is a must. If you go to a dark ass club this is a must. Women should wear make-up. So stop lying when you say you don't like it. Really? Cause when Beyonce comes on t.v. you sure seem to like make-up then. Myth BUSTED.
2.Black women shouldnt smoke, it makes them look ugly. NO ONE should smoke!! Thanks for making us so special to singling us out but thats very ignorant. If you are trying to get at me in the club don't follow your lame ass greeting by telling me i should quit smoking. How would you like it if I said "Hey papi, you lookin' good, but you should stop wearing those clothes because the Tommy hilfiger shirt youre wearing thinking that you were dressed up makes you look very dated, lame and cheap. Hey but can I get your number?". Like who are you to judge me. I didnt decide to smoke because I thought it was cute. Its just one of my many flaws. I dont need someone I dont even know telling me to quit. Worse than a damn Jehovah's witness. MYTH BUSTED
3.Black women have attitudes. Yet another ignorant ass myth. ALL women have attitude. Just like all women have legs. I work in retail and come in contact with lots of women, and women acting like bitches definitely come in ALL color, shapes, and sizes. If I come across unapproachable at the club, its probably, because weve seen heard and dealt with a lot of shit from your kind. So creativity is a must BULLSHIT is a bust.Myth BUSTED.
4. Black women are gold diggers. I'm the first to admit that I love Kanye, and always sings the part that says, "we want prenup,ah yeahhh". But I think sometimes we don't listen too well. I think the phrase goes, "I AINT sayin she's a gold digger but she aint messin with no broke nigga". Its 2008, everyone should have a job, and striving for greatness. So is it too much to ask that you have the following; a job, some goals, a car, and some extra cash to spend? If you don't have one or the other, atleast be working towards it. Anyways, ALL women are gold diggers. There's nothing sexier than a rich man ready to spend!
4. Black women hate black men who date white women. That idea is so simple minded and stupid. Black men who say they only date white women for whatever stupid reason like black women have attitudes, are racist and lame, and thats what ALL WOMEN hate.And i think thats what most woman hate is a LAME ass man.I know it makes your dick hard at the thought of seeing an envious black woman, but lets get real. You know that's not why a black woman might be upset. Myth BUSTED.This very myth will help to conclude this long ass blog.
You're our brothers, uncles, and fathers. You know what we've been through, you were there through our EXPERIENCES. you're the one person we believe knows us truly, our hearts and our minds. You are apart of our souls. Why must you fall into the crowd that believes we are inferior and then sing along with the band? Our beauty lies within ouselves and YOU. Why must your expectations of us be so unrealistic and of perfection. We have flaws, because we are human, like you. If we love you for all of your imperfections, we should be given the same respect. So talk to us with respect. Love us with respect. Treat us with respect, and we will try our best to be the woman of your dreams. We aren't your enemies. Why must our standards be so low of you just so we may share our hearts with you? We can't continue giving ourselves to a man who doesn't answer to a higher power, and lives a life that is hypocritical. Your are MY BROTHER. Protect me.
Ladies, EXPERIENCE and OBSERVE throughout your JOURNEY, this is a big world. Don't hesitate to STRAY.
Irregardless...
Just a thought
For some foolish reason, I have always been the type of black woman who only dates black men. I guess living in (joke)lahoma somewhat kept me to "stay" and not to "stray", if you will. I mean black women arent a high commodity around these parts.In Oklahoma, it seems to me that there is an unspoken rule that everyone should stick to their kind. That rule only applying to black women and white men. Ive gathered that other women would say they dont date outside of their race because they feel they OWE something to our black men. Some may say attraction is at question. Somehow theyve made up in their minds that only black men have the power to appeal to 2 or more senses. Maybe the stares, grunts, and whispers arent too appealing either. Dont get me wrong, there are black women STRAY, and actually would prefer to. But maybe the truth lies behind the idea that a REAL black woman, oh wait.. before i go further let me give a you a "definition quickie" of a REAL BLACK WOMAN from my EXPERIENCE DICTIONARY.
Real Black Woman noun an african american woman whos ancestors were slaves, with no real knowledge of any other ethnicity other than african decent. Who checks the box African American when filling out the ethnicity portion of an application. Who may or may not have "good hair". Women of various colors, shapes, and sizes. You can find being exploited on your average music video of any kind and "The Maury Show".
Ok now back to the reguarly scheduled program.
....the idea of a REAL black woman ever being physically, financially, mentally, (sane)cially, (def being of sanity), notloudicially,(def to have the ability to shut your damn mouth), and intellectually EQUAL TO non-black women in America does not exist. I call this idea the, Video Vixen Effect. (This idea will be discussed further in another blog). I'm sure that women of other ethnicities would argue that they too feel that this idea exist within their culture. For example, Asian women are known for there beautifully slanted eyes. It is a feature that defines the anatomy and history of the Asian culture. But when Asian women apply make-up to their eyes they dont get the same shading affect as an Italian woman or a black woman would. Some Asian women get surgery on their eyes that tucks the skin of the the eyelid inward so that there is a crease created to give dimension to the eye. Their feeling of inferiority has played such a role in their lives, that they question the very thing that makes them unique in this world. Please take note that I dont think this idea of inferiority only lies in the black community, but in this blog, Im being selfish and will be discussing this idea in terms of black women.
Hypothetical very short story time.
*Reading Rainbow theme song plays*
You're 8. You go to Miss Stephens' 3rd grade class every morning and see that only you and 1 other girl has hair like you. The EXPERIENCE of learning begins. You're CURIOUS and mind is of wonder, as you make your way home after school while humming the tunes of "Superwoman" by Karen White. You walk into the kitchen, "Mama", you say. "Can I please wear my hair down tomorrow for school?". Your mom's heart begins to break when she has to look you in those big brown eyes and tell you, "No girl. You aint no white girl, now go play with your dolls or something". You do as told, and play with your Barbies, only to look at her and see that even the doll, that appears to look like you, has long straight her, a pointy nose, and a flat ass. You hate her, because for some reason you cant understand why she is darker than you and you still don't feel like you can relate. So you watch T.V, you know, Rainbow Bright, Care Bears, Shera, Smurfs, shit like that. OBSERVANT as you are, you notice that NOT a single character looks, sounds, or experiences anything that surrounds you. You will later learn that you will experience this throughout your life, and forced to deal with media that won't show POSITIVE images of women who look like you.
And this is where the EXPERIENCE of anger and confusion begins.
The real reason I wrote this blog.
I had an EXPERIENCE that made me more OBSERVANT than ever. I went to a club one night with a friend. Now we are both dancers and we love to go out, drink, and dance to all types of music, so this club was pretty diverse. I was looking great as usual, because really theres no other options, smelling good, just got paid from one of the 3 jobs I hold, so feeling good too. The DJ is playing Cherry Pie, and thats my cue to take a cigarette break. Im standing there minding my own business when this guy comes up to me, which is the first since I got to the club 2 hours ago. "Hey miss lady" he says. "You sure are looking good tonight". I smile, tell him thanks for the compliment, because I am a lady and do enjoy a compliment every now and then. He continues the conversation by saying, "you sure look good, but you need to put that cigarette down". I don't exactly know why but I become overwhelmingly angry inside. I argue with him a little trying to justify the fact that Im a fuckin' adult, capable of making decisions, good or bad on my own, and why his opinion means nothing to me. Needless to say he moves around. A guy Ive known for years was there as well. We exchange greetings and catch up a little. He's good, Im good. After 2 minutes of small talk he also proceeds to tell me I shouldnt be smoking cigarettes. "It's not cute", he says. At this point I'm ready to close my tab and go home. After this EXPERIENCE, I start seeing a trend in black men when in a club atmosphere. A.not too many holla at me, unless they're scum and really have nothing to loose.B. If they do decide to dance with you they have a need to touch on my body. Disgusting. C. They feel that a black woman who smokes cigarettes should be told that they shouldnt smoke cigarettes.
One day it hit me. My EXPERIENCE as a child, has left me with a sense of inferiority. Overlooked and disrespected by society. Which could explain the deeply rooted feeling of anger and loneliness. I dont deserve to feel this way. I have a lot to give to this world. So Im putting my foot down on all of this nonsense. Because I think there is some confusion as to the place of black women in our own community and in this world. Im disgusted, that we as black women have allowed society to think, disrespect, and talk of us as if were meaningless creatures who are automatically born at the bottom of the food chain. MY BROTHER, I have a few concerns that needs to be addressed.
Here's where the myths play a role in this blog.
1.Black women shouldnt wear make-up because they dont need it.
Is this some egotistical way for you to keep us looking like we just woke up so some other man wont talk to us? No matter what color you are you should wear make up. Im not saying throw blue eyeshadow all over your face, but make up is used to enhance features you already have. If you work at a place where you have to come in contact with lots of people this is a must. If you go to a dark ass club this is a must. Women should wear make-up. So stop lying when you say you don't like it. Really? Cause when Beyonce comes on t.v. you sure seem to like make-up then. Myth BUSTED.
2.Black women shouldnt smoke, it makes them look ugly. NO ONE should smoke!! Thanks for making us so special to singling us out but thats very ignorant. If you are trying to get at me in the club don't follow your lame ass greeting by telling me i should quit smoking. How would you like it if I said "Hey papi, you lookin' good, but you should stop wearing those clothes because the Tommy hilfiger shirt youre wearing thinking that you were dressed up makes you look very dated, lame and cheap. Hey but can I get your number?". Like who are you to judge me. I didnt decide to smoke because I thought it was cute. Its just one of my many flaws. I dont need someone I dont even know telling me to quit. Worse than a damn Jehovah's witness. MYTH BUSTED
3.Black women have attitudes. Yet another ignorant ass myth. ALL women have attitude. Just like all women have legs. I work in retail and come in contact with lots of women, and women acting like bitches definitely come in ALL color, shapes, and sizes. If I come across unapproachable at the club, its probably, because weve seen heard and dealt with a lot of shit from your kind. So creativity is a must BULLSHIT is a bust.Myth BUSTED.
4. Black women are gold diggers. I'm the first to admit that I love Kanye, and always sings the part that says, "we want prenup,ah yeahhh". But I think sometimes we don't listen too well. I think the phrase goes, "I AINT sayin she's a gold digger but she aint messin with no broke nigga". Its 2008, everyone should have a job, and striving for greatness. So is it too much to ask that you have the following; a job, some goals, a car, and some extra cash to spend? If you don't have one or the other, atleast be working towards it. Anyways, ALL women are gold diggers. There's nothing sexier than a rich man ready to spend!
4. Black women hate black men who date white women. That idea is so simple minded and stupid. Black men who say they only date white women for whatever stupid reason like black women have attitudes, are racist and lame, and thats what ALL WOMEN hate.And i think thats what most woman hate is a LAME ass man.I know it makes your dick hard at the thought of seeing an envious black woman, but lets get real. You know that's not why a black woman might be upset. Myth BUSTED.This very myth will help to conclude this long ass blog.
You're our brothers, uncles, and fathers. You know what we've been through, you were there through our EXPERIENCES. you're the one person we believe knows us truly, our hearts and our minds. You are apart of our souls. Why must you fall into the crowd that believes we are inferior and then sing along with the band? Our beauty lies within ouselves and YOU. Why must your expectations of us be so unrealistic and of perfection. We have flaws, because we are human, like you. If we love you for all of your imperfections, we should be given the same respect. So talk to us with respect. Love us with respect. Treat us with respect, and we will try our best to be the woman of your dreams. We aren't your enemies. Why must our standards be so low of you just so we may share our hearts with you? We can't continue giving ourselves to a man who doesn't answer to a higher power, and lives a life that is hypocritical. Your are MY BROTHER. Protect me.
Ladies, EXPERIENCE and OBSERVE throughout your JOURNEY, this is a big world. Don't hesitate to STRAY.
Monday, April 21, 2008
RANDOM
This is a throwback.. before the blogspot i decided to put on here for my new found blogging friends!
On many nights, I drive in my car with the music loud, so when I try to hit the highest notes, I feel like I'm Whitney. I like to get lost in my car. Lost in deep thought. In my car, I make up scenerios of how I would want my success to come about. You know, like that "great story" that your friends would tell about you, on your own documentary featured on OETA. Like one day I was walking down the streets of New York, after leaving my third side job, a man stops to help me find the quarter I dropped that I of course need to catch the train, and I look up to find that its Bob Dylan asking me to be apart of his new reality show called "who wants to be a farmer/dancer/biscuit baker". And I cry, because I know I'm so great at all of those things..I get on the show and my brilliant personality lands me the biggest and most talked about role in one of the greatest movies since, since.... "Forest Gump". I win an Oscar and even write my own book. I don't even need an editor. I get married to basically a God, and we have five children. Two of them are quarterbacks for 5 time Superbowl Championship Teams, (yes both on different teams, and both of them have 5 rings), 1 is a doctor who invents the "body transplant", like full body; hair, balls, legs, the whole shabang. 1 is a drug addict, (got to be realistic, atleast ones a fuck up), and the other becomes the first man to fly to Saturn on a motorized broom stick. We both die at 108, with all of our teeth, and in our sleep.... But then I look up and I find myself in a parking space, wondering how I got there. I sit for awhile, take a deep breath, get out of the car, and enter back into the reality of it all. LIFE. I go to my bed where I lay alone forced to worry about all of my endless responsibilities. All of my dumb insecurities. All of my past. All of the poverty. All of racism. All of the confusion and stupidity. All of the dreams I have that just seem like dreams. All of the things I could turn to, like drugs or vodka. All of the money I don't have. All of the reasons why no matter what I have it never seems quite enough. All of the lies. All of the crime. All of the damn time. And I say, "Shit, I think ill just take a drive to the walmart in Yukon." Yeah I'm stupid.
On many nights, I drive in my car with the music loud, so when I try to hit the highest notes, I feel like I'm Whitney. I like to get lost in my car. Lost in deep thought. In my car, I make up scenerios of how I would want my success to come about. You know, like that "great story" that your friends would tell about you, on your own documentary featured on OETA. Like one day I was walking down the streets of New York, after leaving my third side job, a man stops to help me find the quarter I dropped that I of course need to catch the train, and I look up to find that its Bob Dylan asking me to be apart of his new reality show called "who wants to be a farmer/dancer/biscuit baker". And I cry, because I know I'm so great at all of those things..I get on the show and my brilliant personality lands me the biggest and most talked about role in one of the greatest movies since, since.... "Forest Gump". I win an Oscar and even write my own book. I don't even need an editor. I get married to basically a God, and we have five children. Two of them are quarterbacks for 5 time Superbowl Championship Teams, (yes both on different teams, and both of them have 5 rings), 1 is a doctor who invents the "body transplant", like full body; hair, balls, legs, the whole shabang. 1 is a drug addict, (got to be realistic, atleast ones a fuck up), and the other becomes the first man to fly to Saturn on a motorized broom stick. We both die at 108, with all of our teeth, and in our sleep.... But then I look up and I find myself in a parking space, wondering how I got there. I sit for awhile, take a deep breath, get out of the car, and enter back into the reality of it all. LIFE. I go to my bed where I lay alone forced to worry about all of my endless responsibilities. All of my dumb insecurities. All of my past. All of the poverty. All of racism. All of the confusion and stupidity. All of the dreams I have that just seem like dreams. All of the things I could turn to, like drugs or vodka. All of the money I don't have. All of the reasons why no matter what I have it never seems quite enough. All of the lies. All of the crime. All of the damn time. And I say, "Shit, I think ill just take a drive to the walmart in Yukon." Yeah I'm stupid.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
loves and (dis)loves if you will
Things i love..
- Prailines and cream ice cream
- the smell of breakfast on a saturday morning
- strong drinks with no taste of alcohol
- The movie, "Coming to America"
- sex with someone i love.
- designs on my toenails
- The theme song for Family Matters
- The hopes that someone with a conscious and concern for mankind will be the next President.
- Taking my bra off at the end of the day
- The sight of kids laughing, dancing, and being loved, because it reminds me of how wonderful life can be without worries of LIFE.
- The fresh Prince of Bel Air
- Pay Day
- R & B in the 70's, 80's and 90's
- The Fourth of July
- Terrell Owens, Chad Johnson, and Randy Moss, just for putting excitement back in football.. Because isnt the game merely for OUR entertainment.
- OPRAH
- Orbit gum, any flavor
- The line in Napolean Dynamite, that says, "....your mom goes to college."
- Making fun of Tyra on, America's Next Top Model.
- The dancing I do in my head.
- LIARS.
- Snakes and anything that looks like one.
- The fact that people live and die by jay-z. (Pretty much every album puts me to sleep accept for maybe 3 songs total)
- not having any AC during the summer.
- LOSER ASS MEN! I'm allergic to them.
- The fact that Micheal Jackson has lost his mind, because the music industry is in desperate need of some change.
- Cats. Sit when tell you to sit. Get off of the counter when I tell you to. Its like having a bunch of bad ass kids.
- Guys with braids.
- White boys with tight shirts.
- the song "Low"
- Ray-J
- The fact that I still have to buy batteries.
- GASOLINE in general.
- DR. PHIL
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Who is he?
Last night I met a man. He was 100 ft tall. He could open doors for me to the enitire universe. His eyes were similar to me, full of life and truth. He could see my future clear as a crystal. His spectrum would reveal a path of life that aligned perfectly as the planets do . His mouth could speak only powerful words of encouragement and beauty. His glowing eloquence would burn in my soul as intense as the elements of the skies in Mars. His arms could stretch a mile long. He could retrieve anything I imagine. He would stand on the tips of his toes and pull me out wisdom of the Sun. His chest would be made up of tiny particles of love, strength, and integrity. He could guard my heart with the dust of his bones. They would protect me from any meteor shower of deceit and heartache. He would only reveal those who possess unconditional love and honesty from an atmosphere of only my best interest. He was a REAL man. I remember him like his flame burned within my soul. Like every time I smiled you could see the universe glow. My dreams tell me he lies within me. Despite my humility he sees me through. Makes promises he can keep, and tell stories of truth. He hugs me when I'm blue, and soothes me when times due. He's my omega and my queen. He lives in me. The change of my sadness. He's king of my gladness. You all would call him him happiness.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thank God for...
Thank god for Strawberry flavored Vodka, cause 10 shots of that is way better than 7 of regular. Thank god for high waisted jeans cause I'm tired of my ass crack showing. Thank god for spare tires (donuts acorse), they can last up to months, son!! Thank god for any fast food that's open past 2am. Thank god for Gangsta Rap, because sometimes I just wanna say, "bitches aint shit but hoes and tricks". (Bitches. Pertaining to men of course). Thank god for friends, because when I talk it seems more like pouring my heart out and less like complaining. Thank god for "Fresh Prince of Bel Air", reminds me of once upon a time when there were no bills and my biggest problem was what to wear on the first day of school. Thank God for Facebook, Myspace, Music videos, Walmart, Award Shows, and the clubs, because without them I can't have judgemental conversations about people and their outfits, shoes, facial expression, future husbands (or secret husbands), weaves, and of course performances to make me feel better about myself. Thank God for Baseball and Golf Season, its just a constant reminder to get my ass off of the couch and to do something other than watch T.V. because everything on T.V. will put me straight to sleep. Thank God for Greys Anatomy, nothing more to be said. Thank God for Old Navy, because cheap and decent is in, in 2008. Thank God for tights and leggings because everyone. no matter the size seems to have enough self esteem to put them on. Self-esteem is good! Thank God for Amy Winehouse, good music and GREAT laughs! Thank God casual sex isn't so bad anymore. Thank God coffee isn't just for the morning. So needless to say, "Starbucks" is heaven. Thank God you can walk into 7-Eleven dressed as a welfare check cashin, veitnam veteran bein, clown suit wearin, R.V. drivin, leather coat in the summer time doin, Uggs with courdaroy rockin, rollers in you are hair havin, snaggle tooth danglin bum, because I'd never go. Thank God for bar-b-que, because life would never seem priceless. Thank God for struggle, because my name would just be Barney and Friends. Thank God for "soft rock"; like "Lady in Red" and "You Mean the World to Me", because love would be pointless. Thank God for parks, because I would never get the "don't talk to strangers" speech. Thank God for, tweezers, mirrors, magazines, models, clothes, and IKEA, because I'd have no obsessions.
THANK GOD, I'm alive and well. I better get over the rest of my so called "hardships". Life aint so bad, I'm sure another episode of "I Love NY" is coming on!
THANK GOD, I'm alive and well. I better get over the rest of my so called "hardships". Life aint so bad, I'm sure another episode of "I Love NY" is coming on!
Monday, April 7, 2008
Why not run a yellow light?
I say, fuck the yellow light! The yellow light tells me a lot about Garrett A. Morgan. He's a wuss! I wants nothing in between. Go or stop. Stop or go. Go, go , go. Stop, stop, stop. Yellow lights are for losers and pansies, pansies and losers. If it were up to me, lights would have no existence. We'd just jump in the car and drive that bitch like Jeff Gordan with the Texas Giant as the track, and 2 fat people in the back, named Chrilife and Deathisha. You stop and I go, I go and you stop, I go and you go. Crash, crash, crash. Hopefully I would had went out the night before and drank until I was on top of tables showing my tits, yelling out profanity that even HBO can't play, and dancing as if my life depended on it, all while in Rio De Janeiro, sippin' Caipirinhas and playing the guitar with Pharrell and Snoop, shooting the "Beautiful Part 2" video. You know living life the way everyone secretly wants to live, but too damn afraid. Scared some lightening bolt will fall from the sky, and strike you down, and in fear that now life as you know it is more fucked up then it was before. I just wanna go 60 mph and then stop, stop, stop and slam on my brakes for dear life. everyone in the car with me...their lives will flash, flash, and flash before their eyes, including the kids and the dog. I sit waiting, waiting, and waiting , for the light to turn green, so that I can put the gas so far down life's throat, I put my foot up my own ass. I go, go, go, so fast i can smell rubber. I know that no matter how fast I go I know there will be yet another light waiting for my ass, just so I can slam on the breaks again, again, and again. Am I stopping or going?
Maybe I'll STOP.
Should I pay my cell phone bill?
But damn GO seems better.
Should I say FUCK IT, Im going to the club. Which means I'll have just enough to get me a new pair of earrings and a cheap shirt from Charlotte. Hoping, just hoping it will freshin up these stale ass clothes from two years ago when I pulled this same stunt.
This time I'm gonna STOP.
Maybe I should wear a condemn?
Man, It's been awhile, I say GO.
Or should I literally FUCK IT and just raw dog it? I mean I took her out for a drink she paid for, and pretended to listen to her go on and on about wanting to be a model/baton twirler, while i stared at her nipples peeking through her shirt. Praying, just praying the pull out method will work, because I hate the last two kids I got.
STOPPING.
Should I go to work on time today?
GOING FAST.
Maybe Ill just say FUCK IT and sleep in just a little bit longer? Its better that way, teach "the man" whos really running shit. Guessing, just guessing my boss doesnt work today, to see that Im 30 minutes late for the 4th time, on probation, and out of uniform wearing the white and baby blue Jordans i borrowed from the homie, instead of these ugly ass black dress shoes i bought from Payless with pancake batter on it from my second job at the Waffle House.
STOP to the 3rd power.
Should I eat yet another salad?
GO GO GADGET.
I say I warm-up the entire batch of Krispy Kreme donuts, put 6 on a plate, add ice cream, and eat it with a spatula until my tummy hurts so bad, and wake up to find out im late for work a-damn-gin. No? Even if I start my diet tomorrow that consists of any diet pill that promises I loose at least 15 pounds in a 10 days, water pills, protein gum, and the new exercise machine you sleep in that requires nothing but 6 hours of sleep a day to shed inches? What if I start right after my nap? I should definitely choose STOP on this one.
STOP it.
Should I communicate clearly and affectively today?
GOOOOOOOOO.
Or should I just say to hell with this? and drive my car right through the double doors of Walmart and run over the three check out ladies, and the 40 million costumers standing in line with their bad ass kids and baskets full of fruit loops, Swiffer refills, and "Sam's Choice" bottled water followed by a drive by electronics to snatch up a flat screen for the living room and the bathroom, where i will of course see at least 3 losers I went to high school with and not only will i run over them but reverse and run over them again for doing the same shit they were doing in high school still 'til this day. Clearly driving my car into the store will just get my groceries into the car faster, anyways.
STOP in the name of love.
Should I just purchase gas with some spare change?
GOING very fast.
I think i should just pump it and get them back next time.Maybe? What'd you say mister gas pump machine? Pre-pay or credit card only? Well damn... I only have 6 quarters and I was really hoping to cash that in to the car wash to wash my 20's, plus my credit card was maxed a trip to Ted's, nail salon, and three shirts ago, but if I have at least $2 in my checking account the debit card will be approved, and although Bank of America charges $33 in over draft fees, I'll just pay them back next friday when I get paid. works for me.
Always STOPPING and GOING. go, go, go and stop, stop, stop. go, stop, go. An infinite number of different ways to position our gos and stops. Hopefully I'll stop the same time and place LeBron James stops. If not, I guess you'll do.
Maybe I'll STOP.
Should I pay my cell phone bill?
But damn GO seems better.
Should I say FUCK IT, Im going to the club. Which means I'll have just enough to get me a new pair of earrings and a cheap shirt from Charlotte. Hoping, just hoping it will freshin up these stale ass clothes from two years ago when I pulled this same stunt.
This time I'm gonna STOP.
Maybe I should wear a condemn?
Man, It's been awhile, I say GO.
Or should I literally FUCK IT and just raw dog it? I mean I took her out for a drink she paid for, and pretended to listen to her go on and on about wanting to be a model/baton twirler, while i stared at her nipples peeking through her shirt. Praying, just praying the pull out method will work, because I hate the last two kids I got.
STOPPING.
Should I go to work on time today?
GOING FAST.
Maybe Ill just say FUCK IT and sleep in just a little bit longer? Its better that way, teach "the man" whos really running shit. Guessing, just guessing my boss doesnt work today, to see that Im 30 minutes late for the 4th time, on probation, and out of uniform wearing the white and baby blue Jordans i borrowed from the homie, instead of these ugly ass black dress shoes i bought from Payless with pancake batter on it from my second job at the Waffle House.
STOP to the 3rd power.
Should I eat yet another salad?
GO GO GADGET.
I say I warm-up the entire batch of Krispy Kreme donuts, put 6 on a plate, add ice cream, and eat it with a spatula until my tummy hurts so bad, and wake up to find out im late for work a-damn-gin. No? Even if I start my diet tomorrow that consists of any diet pill that promises I loose at least 15 pounds in a 10 days, water pills, protein gum, and the new exercise machine you sleep in that requires nothing but 6 hours of sleep a day to shed inches? What if I start right after my nap? I should definitely choose STOP on this one.
STOP it.
Should I communicate clearly and affectively today?
GOOOOOOOOO.
Or should I just say to hell with this? and drive my car right through the double doors of Walmart and run over the three check out ladies, and the 40 million costumers standing in line with their bad ass kids and baskets full of fruit loops, Swiffer refills, and "Sam's Choice" bottled water followed by a drive by electronics to snatch up a flat screen for the living room and the bathroom, where i will of course see at least 3 losers I went to high school with and not only will i run over them but reverse and run over them again for doing the same shit they were doing in high school still 'til this day. Clearly driving my car into the store will just get my groceries into the car faster, anyways.
STOP in the name of love.
Should I just purchase gas with some spare change?
GOING very fast.
I think i should just pump it and get them back next time.Maybe? What'd you say mister gas pump machine? Pre-pay or credit card only? Well damn... I only have 6 quarters and I was really hoping to cash that in to the car wash to wash my 20's, plus my credit card was maxed a trip to Ted's, nail salon, and three shirts ago, but if I have at least $2 in my checking account the debit card will be approved, and although Bank of America charges $33 in over draft fees, I'll just pay them back next friday when I get paid. works for me.
Always STOPPING and GOING. go, go, go and stop, stop, stop. go, stop, go. An infinite number of different ways to position our gos and stops. Hopefully I'll stop the same time and place LeBron James stops. If not, I guess you'll do.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
fears are as pointles as life without love
sometimes i get scared, like everyone, i have fears. Everyday, as im growing, experiencing, and pretending to be going after what it is i know i want, im afraid. Afraid that the script that plays in my head is never going to be heard, let alone seen, and only through the highest gates, would they ever be awarded. In my little head I see greatness, and the story i tell can move mountains sized larger than anyone can measure. But I fear, unlike myself, TIME, with its persistence and endurance despite change, is passing me by effortlessly. As eager as i am for change, i fear that im misguided through life due to lack of strength on my part, and change cant come soon enough.. Why the dismay, des? Why are you not as whole as it appears on the outer layers? i ask.
I hear my cry when Im dancing, but what do they listen to? I feel the rhythm in my soul, but why is it they can only hear the music? I can see the lines I stretch for moments that are infinite, but do they see them dim at my very last finger tip? Who am i? I know what I am inside, but what is stopping me from bringing it to surface.
The fear lies in the fact that I am the only power holding me back, and I cant place my tongue on the words to tell me otherwise.
I can't let time grow as i wither..
I must shine tomorrow.
I hear my cry when Im dancing, but what do they listen to? I feel the rhythm in my soul, but why is it they can only hear the music? I can see the lines I stretch for moments that are infinite, but do they see them dim at my very last finger tip? Who am i? I know what I am inside, but what is stopping me from bringing it to surface.
The fear lies in the fact that I am the only power holding me back, and I cant place my tongue on the words to tell me otherwise.
I can't let time grow as i wither..
I must shine tomorrow.
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