I am not an actor. I was in a few plays in high school but I never gained the popularity that I should have. There was one time, however, when I was in my early teens when I was asked to be in a play that my church was putting on. I readily accepted. The person that asked me to participate was the head of the Youth Department and he couldn’t stand me. He thought I was a snotty, stuck up teen with a bad attitude. He was right. The part that he wanted me to perform in the play was that of a snotty, stuck up adult with a bad attitude. After my “performance” I received a standing ovation. After the play, the head of the Youth Department said to me, “I knew you’d do a great job!” Bastard.
Anyway, like I said I am not an actor. I do watch Inside the Actor’s Studio religiously. I really love that show. I don’t know why. I really enjoyed the episode that was on recently that featured Dave Chappelle. After watching that episode, I’m more careful about who I call “crazy”. Some of the other guests that I enjoyed were Morgan Freeman, Queen Latifah and Charlize Theron among others. I love the part at the end of the show when the host, James Lipton, asks the guest a series of questions. I always answer right along with the guest, as if I’m an actor. Or, as if anyone really cares how I would answer. Care or not, here are my answers to those questions:
What turns you on?
Kindness
What turns you off?
Dishonesty
What is your favorite word?
Correct! (as in, “you are ….”)
What is your least favorite word?
No
What is your favorite sound or noise?
A man’s laughter
What is your least favorite sound or noise?
Sirens
What profession other than your own would you like to participate in?
Professional writer
What profession would you like to have no part in?
Anything in the medical field
What is your favorite curse word?
Fuck
Finally, if Heaven exists, what do you want to hear God say as you enter the pearly gates?
“Was it worth it?”
How would you answer?
What is meant to be will be
Defense Mechanisms
Friday, February 24, 2006
Beaver: I don’t know Dad … sometimes when I mess up I just wonder why you don’t hit me.
Ward: Beaver! I would never hit you! What would make you say something like that?
Beaver: Well … if you hit me it would hurt … but that pain goes away. But when you called me stupid … that pain doesn’t really go away.
Okay, I know the Leave It To Beaver reference was kind of corny but there must be some reason why that episode has been lodged in my brain for so many years.
No one wants to be hurt. No one wants to feel pain. We do everything in our power to avoid it. But for some reason or another we just can’t avoid some painful situations. Beaver compares physical pain to emotional pain and while both are damaging he expresses that he would rather deal with the physical pain than with the emotional pain. I know what he means. I have had two babies with no drugs and I am no superwoman … it hurt. But I don’t think I can verbalize to you after 11 years what that pain felt like. Four years after I had my son I must have completely forgotten what the pain was like because I decided to get pregnant with my daughter.
The memory of physical pain seems to fade into a distant memory – unless, of course it’s constant as in abusive situations. But for the most part, it is easier to let go of physical pain than it is emotional pain. For example, I can’t remember the pain of childbirth but I can tell you exactly how I felt when I discovered that Antonio was a lying bigamist. I still feel it. That kind of betrayal is overwhelming. It feels like your drowning. Trying to gasp for air and not being able to. Trying everyday to wake up from a nightmare that just won't end. It’s crippling.
When I made the discovery I was pregnant so I had no other choice but to let it go and move on. I may have moved on but I don’t think I have really let it go.
I’m always in my head and I like to get into the heads of others. So I’ve been doing some research on Defense Mechanisms. Defense Mechanisms are a way to protect ourselves from the awareness of our undesired and feared impulses. They are our way of distancing ourselves from a full awareness of unpleasant thoughts, feelings and desires. In other words, I don’t want to be reminded of the betrayal so instead I protect myself by building walls and keeping people at a distance (i.e., denial, displacement and repression). I blame myself for what happened because I ignored the warning signs and I make a vow to never be that stupid again. I think everyone is trying to play me. I suspect everyone of having an agenda. I don’t accuse … I just keep my distance. It really is sick.
It’s hard for me to comprehend that someone could actually just love me for me. Unconditionally without wanting anything in return. So I overcompensate by saying that I love myself and therefore don’t need the love of someone else. But do I? I do take good care of me. I take myself out to dinner so I don’t need a man to pay for a meal. I take myself out to the movies so I don’t need a man to take me anywhere. I buy myself expensive chocolates and flowers so what do I need a man for? It’s crazy, I tell you. But while I’m doing all this stuff I’m really not leaving any room for a man. D used to ask me all the time, “What do you need me for?” I didn’t know how to answer him.
Anyway, back to the defense mechanisms. While they are used in an attempt to protect myself from unpleasant emotions, they could result in equally harmful problems. I have built so many daggone walls it’s like I’m living in a fortress with nothing but my cute shoes and purses. I can’t tell you how many people I have kicked to the curb because they disappointed me. Too many broken friendships and too many broken relationships.
So, what am I going to do about it? I am going to make an effort to trust. I need to trust that I do have good judgment. I need to trust that everyone doesn’t have an agenda. I need to trust that it’s okay to let folks in. Taking a chance isn’t always a bad thing.
I also need to trust that karma has hit Antonio right where he lives.
Ward: Beaver! I would never hit you! What would make you say something like that?
Beaver: Well … if you hit me it would hurt … but that pain goes away. But when you called me stupid … that pain doesn’t really go away.
Okay, I know the Leave It To Beaver reference was kind of corny but there must be some reason why that episode has been lodged in my brain for so many years.
No one wants to be hurt. No one wants to feel pain. We do everything in our power to avoid it. But for some reason or another we just can’t avoid some painful situations. Beaver compares physical pain to emotional pain and while both are damaging he expresses that he would rather deal with the physical pain than with the emotional pain. I know what he means. I have had two babies with no drugs and I am no superwoman … it hurt. But I don’t think I can verbalize to you after 11 years what that pain felt like. Four years after I had my son I must have completely forgotten what the pain was like because I decided to get pregnant with my daughter.
The memory of physical pain seems to fade into a distant memory – unless, of course it’s constant as in abusive situations. But for the most part, it is easier to let go of physical pain than it is emotional pain. For example, I can’t remember the pain of childbirth but I can tell you exactly how I felt when I discovered that Antonio was a lying bigamist. I still feel it. That kind of betrayal is overwhelming. It feels like your drowning. Trying to gasp for air and not being able to. Trying everyday to wake up from a nightmare that just won't end. It’s crippling.
When I made the discovery I was pregnant so I had no other choice but to let it go and move on. I may have moved on but I don’t think I have really let it go.
I’m always in my head and I like to get into the heads of others. So I’ve been doing some research on Defense Mechanisms. Defense Mechanisms are a way to protect ourselves from the awareness of our undesired and feared impulses. They are our way of distancing ourselves from a full awareness of unpleasant thoughts, feelings and desires. In other words, I don’t want to be reminded of the betrayal so instead I protect myself by building walls and keeping people at a distance (i.e., denial, displacement and repression). I blame myself for what happened because I ignored the warning signs and I make a vow to never be that stupid again. I think everyone is trying to play me. I suspect everyone of having an agenda. I don’t accuse … I just keep my distance. It really is sick.
It’s hard for me to comprehend that someone could actually just love me for me. Unconditionally without wanting anything in return. So I overcompensate by saying that I love myself and therefore don’t need the love of someone else. But do I? I do take good care of me. I take myself out to dinner so I don’t need a man to pay for a meal. I take myself out to the movies so I don’t need a man to take me anywhere. I buy myself expensive chocolates and flowers so what do I need a man for? It’s crazy, I tell you. But while I’m doing all this stuff I’m really not leaving any room for a man. D used to ask me all the time, “What do you need me for?” I didn’t know how to answer him.
Anyway, back to the defense mechanisms. While they are used in an attempt to protect myself from unpleasant emotions, they could result in equally harmful problems. I have built so many daggone walls it’s like I’m living in a fortress with nothing but my cute shoes and purses. I can’t tell you how many people I have kicked to the curb because they disappointed me. Too many broken friendships and too many broken relationships.
So, what am I going to do about it? I am going to make an effort to trust. I need to trust that I do have good judgment. I need to trust that everyone doesn’t have an agenda. I need to trust that it’s okay to let folks in. Taking a chance isn’t always a bad thing.
I also need to trust that karma has hit Antonio right where he lives.
Blessed by chele at 9:55 AM
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Site Meter
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
I finally took the time to read the sitemeter report. It's amazing who it turns out is reading my blog supposedly without my knowledge.
Blessed by chele at 3:29 PM | Permalink |
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Why All The Privacy?
There have been a few new developments in my life over the last week. I haven’t shared them with anyone and I don’t plan to. I’ve made a few comments on other blogs lately regarding my need for privacy and how I don’t share the intimate details of my life with anyone and how no one knows I blog.
I’m thinking now … why all the privacy? It used to be that I would just not share when bad things happened. I never wanted anyone feeling sorry for me. Or mistaking the fact that I was sharing with a request for help. Now, I don’t even share when good things happen either. How weird is that? Probably because I’ve come across more haters than genuine people who want to share my joy.
I think part of the reason is that I don’t want anyone’s opinion clouding my judgment. Everyone always has something to say and most times I just don’t want to hear it. It’s different here in blogland though – I love to receive comments! Of course, here in blogland I don’t really know you guys and I don’t feel like I’m being judged. The comments are objective and if someone disagrees with me they either don’t comment or they do it in a respectful way. I remember when I left my first husband, the bigamist. I made that decision quick, fast and in a hurry. At the time, my mother told me that I had her full support. Come to find out, she told my sister that she thought I ran out of that marriage too quickly and I should have given him a second chance! What the hell? First of all, what the hell are you talking about … give him a second chance? Secondly, why didn’t you tell me that? You know what I took from that experience? That just maybe I cannot trust what my mama says to my face.
I think I have one friend (Mark) who actually can criticize me objectively – and I actually appreciate his feedback. When I told him I slipped up a while back and had sex with B in the back of a limo he didn’t judge me. All he said was “Damn girl! That shit is serious. Now what?” And he accepts the answer, "I don't know" without question. Whereas, if I had shared this information with my baby sister she would shake her head disapprovingly and tell me how stupid I am. My older sister would have grinned like a damn Cheshire cat and ask me when we plan to go ring shopping. So, I just keep my mouth shut.
Another factor that plays into my need for privacy is the fact that I have a hard time being accountable to anyone but God. I don’t feel any particular obligation to explain my actions to anybody. Ever. I am well past the age of consent and I can make my own decisions without any input from anyone. I’ve heard this described as having an internal frame of reference. I know a lot of people who seem to take surveys before they decide to go to the daggone bathroom. I grew up with a girl named Vicky who was probably the finest thing on the planet 25 years ago. Whenever we went out she would not leave the house until she asked everyone “Does this look funny?” It used to drive me crazy! Vicky could put on a Hefty bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the room. She just didn’t know it I guess. She had an external frame of reference – which means that she had to gather information from outside sources before she could make a decision.
It may sound as though I have something to hide. I don’t. I live a very quiet life. I work full time. I’ve been divorced twice. I’m raising two children. I take a dance class on Thursday nights. I like to drink a glass of wine with dinner when I’m at home and I usually order a cosmopolitan if I’m dining out. I go to church on Sundays. I’ve written two books. My relationship status is subject to change depending on what time of the month it is. Let’s see … what else? Oh yeah, I bought a new vibrator last weekend.
Not too much else happening. It’s dull but it’s mine. My life is not an open book, hell, even if it were I think most people would put it back on the shelf.
I’m thinking now … why all the privacy? It used to be that I would just not share when bad things happened. I never wanted anyone feeling sorry for me. Or mistaking the fact that I was sharing with a request for help. Now, I don’t even share when good things happen either. How weird is that? Probably because I’ve come across more haters than genuine people who want to share my joy.
I think part of the reason is that I don’t want anyone’s opinion clouding my judgment. Everyone always has something to say and most times I just don’t want to hear it. It’s different here in blogland though – I love to receive comments! Of course, here in blogland I don’t really know you guys and I don’t feel like I’m being judged. The comments are objective and if someone disagrees with me they either don’t comment or they do it in a respectful way. I remember when I left my first husband, the bigamist. I made that decision quick, fast and in a hurry. At the time, my mother told me that I had her full support. Come to find out, she told my sister that she thought I ran out of that marriage too quickly and I should have given him a second chance! What the hell? First of all, what the hell are you talking about … give him a second chance? Secondly, why didn’t you tell me that? You know what I took from that experience? That just maybe I cannot trust what my mama says to my face.
I think I have one friend (Mark) who actually can criticize me objectively – and I actually appreciate his feedback. When I told him I slipped up a while back and had sex with B in the back of a limo he didn’t judge me. All he said was “Damn girl! That shit is serious. Now what?” And he accepts the answer, "I don't know" without question. Whereas, if I had shared this information with my baby sister she would shake her head disapprovingly and tell me how stupid I am. My older sister would have grinned like a damn Cheshire cat and ask me when we plan to go ring shopping. So, I just keep my mouth shut.
Another factor that plays into my need for privacy is the fact that I have a hard time being accountable to anyone but God. I don’t feel any particular obligation to explain my actions to anybody. Ever. I am well past the age of consent and I can make my own decisions without any input from anyone. I’ve heard this described as having an internal frame of reference. I know a lot of people who seem to take surveys before they decide to go to the daggone bathroom. I grew up with a girl named Vicky who was probably the finest thing on the planet 25 years ago. Whenever we went out she would not leave the house until she asked everyone “Does this look funny?” It used to drive me crazy! Vicky could put on a Hefty bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the room. She just didn’t know it I guess. She had an external frame of reference – which means that she had to gather information from outside sources before she could make a decision.
It may sound as though I have something to hide. I don’t. I live a very quiet life. I work full time. I’ve been divorced twice. I’m raising two children. I take a dance class on Thursday nights. I like to drink a glass of wine with dinner when I’m at home and I usually order a cosmopolitan if I’m dining out. I go to church on Sundays. I’ve written two books. My relationship status is subject to change depending on what time of the month it is. Let’s see … what else? Oh yeah, I bought a new vibrator last weekend.
Not too much else happening. It’s dull but it’s mine. My life is not an open book, hell, even if it were I think most people would put it back on the shelf.
Blessed by chele at 12:37 PM | Permalink |
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The Preacher's Son
Monday, February 20, 2006
So, I’m reading The Preacher’s Son by Carl Weber. It’s a good book. Basically, it’s a story about the scandals that take place in a mega church in New York. If you like Carl Weber – you’ll like the story. He follows the same format in all his books (at least the ones I’ve read): the story is told in first person, twists and turns throughout the story … I haven’t finished the book yet but I’m expecting a surprise ending. I would recommend it.
The story reminded me of my own experiences growing up in the church, coming from a long line of preachers and finally just being so discouraged with the church folk and all the drama that they bring.
I have seen more scandal in the church than I care to admit. I haven’t always been involved in it but just having knowledge of certain things can really taint one’s view of the church. I remember one minister invited me to a hotel. Unbelievable. We were both married at the time and he was one of my Bible teachers. He was a fantastic teacher and I got so much out of his class. I asked a lot of questions and he was always able to break things down for me so I could understand them. Up until the proposition he had always carried himself appropriately and was the picture perfect “Man of God”.
Then he started calling my house on a weekly basis. Each church member was assigned a Home Minister whose responsibility it was to contact six or seven members on a weekly basis and discuss any issues they may have or offer prayer. Well, he wasn’t my Home Minister but he took it upon himself to begin calling my house anyway. If my husband answered than he would speak to him and not ask for me at all. It all seemed perfectly innocent. Until our phone conversations became of a less Godly nature and became more personal. He would tell me how beautiful and charming I was. What the hell? Charming?
Now, I was a grown woman at the time – not some kid who doesn’t know what the hell is going on. A grown woman knows when a man is trying to holla. He can be as subtle as he wants to be but a grown woman can see right through that shit. And I saw it. Do you know that when I called him on it he had the audacity to say that my own carnal thinking led me to that conclusion and that he was a Man of God.
Oh hell no! So now he’s making me question my intuition and my salvation. I ran to my knees and asked God to forgive me for being so carnal. I felt bad for accusing him. Bastard. So time passes and he’s still calling the house and stopping to talk to me after church and just really paying me too much attention. Then one day, he asks me to join him for lunch. I thought we were friends and he was safe since he was married and a minister … blah blah blah. I went to lunch with this fool and afterward he asked me if I wanted to go to a hotel! I looked at him like he was out of his friggin’ mind. I refrained from cussing him out but we didn't speak again after that.
Shortly after that he left the church to start his own church. I wasn’t the cause … this had been in the works for a while.
I know all preachers aren’t like this. But I’ve run across more than one--and it's not like I go looking to bring down the Man of God. It’s discouraging. I remember someone telling me that no one in church is perfect – that’s why they’re in church. Okay, I get that but damn … if I want to be asked to the hotel (which I don’t) I can go to the club. At least at the club you know what a dude’s intentions are. He’s not using the Bible in order to get some booty.
I also left that church. I was too entrenched. I was too involved. I had information that I didn’t want to have. I don’t want to know about my Pastor’s personal life. It distracts me from worship. I don’t care who’s sleeping with whom. I didn’t want to know anyone’s business and I didn’t want anyone in my business. So I left. The church I attend now is nice. Good size. Close to the house. The best part … I don’t know a soul.
The story reminded me of my own experiences growing up in the church, coming from a long line of preachers and finally just being so discouraged with the church folk and all the drama that they bring.
I have seen more scandal in the church than I care to admit. I haven’t always been involved in it but just having knowledge of certain things can really taint one’s view of the church. I remember one minister invited me to a hotel. Unbelievable. We were both married at the time and he was one of my Bible teachers. He was a fantastic teacher and I got so much out of his class. I asked a lot of questions and he was always able to break things down for me so I could understand them. Up until the proposition he had always carried himself appropriately and was the picture perfect “Man of God”.
Then he started calling my house on a weekly basis. Each church member was assigned a Home Minister whose responsibility it was to contact six or seven members on a weekly basis and discuss any issues they may have or offer prayer. Well, he wasn’t my Home Minister but he took it upon himself to begin calling my house anyway. If my husband answered than he would speak to him and not ask for me at all. It all seemed perfectly innocent. Until our phone conversations became of a less Godly nature and became more personal. He would tell me how beautiful and charming I was. What the hell? Charming?
Now, I was a grown woman at the time – not some kid who doesn’t know what the hell is going on. A grown woman knows when a man is trying to holla. He can be as subtle as he wants to be but a grown woman can see right through that shit. And I saw it. Do you know that when I called him on it he had the audacity to say that my own carnal thinking led me to that conclusion and that he was a Man of God.
Oh hell no! So now he’s making me question my intuition and my salvation. I ran to my knees and asked God to forgive me for being so carnal. I felt bad for accusing him. Bastard. So time passes and he’s still calling the house and stopping to talk to me after church and just really paying me too much attention. Then one day, he asks me to join him for lunch. I thought we were friends and he was safe since he was married and a minister … blah blah blah. I went to lunch with this fool and afterward he asked me if I wanted to go to a hotel! I looked at him like he was out of his friggin’ mind. I refrained from cussing him out but we didn't speak again after that.
Shortly after that he left the church to start his own church. I wasn’t the cause … this had been in the works for a while.
I know all preachers aren’t like this. But I’ve run across more than one--and it's not like I go looking to bring down the Man of God. It’s discouraging. I remember someone telling me that no one in church is perfect – that’s why they’re in church. Okay, I get that but damn … if I want to be asked to the hotel (which I don’t) I can go to the club. At least at the club you know what a dude’s intentions are. He’s not using the Bible in order to get some booty.
I also left that church. I was too entrenched. I was too involved. I had information that I didn’t want to have. I don’t want to know about my Pastor’s personal life. It distracts me from worship. I don’t care who’s sleeping with whom. I didn’t want to know anyone’s business and I didn’t want anyone in my business. So I left. The church I attend now is nice. Good size. Close to the house. The best part … I don’t know a soul.
Blessed by chele at 2:03 PM | Permalink |
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Gotta Love That Karma
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Remember when you were younger and you had your heart broken? Remember how when you were in the middle of the pain you would wish something awful would happen to the person that hurt you? Thoughts that you would normally view as horrible and disgusting enter your mind with such frequency that it almost scares you. Or is it just me?
However, once you got older thoughts of revenge no longer invaded your mind on such a regular basis. You discovered karma and realized that anyone who hurt you would eventually get what was coming to them and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. That’s how the universe works.
The Bible says that the Lord will make your enemies your footstool. The 23rd Psalm says “… thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies”. Loosely translated: Living well is the best revenge. I believe that. So we don’t have to lift a finger to make sure that they get got. And if you’re lucky … you’ll get to see it happen. Not that I enjoy the misfortune of others ... but ... you know what I mean.
It was the summer of 1984 and I had just moved home from Boston (i.e. dropped out of college). Me and my girls were hanging out at the basketball courts watching the glistening bodies of the brothas run up and down the court. Different things do it for different people – I like to watch sweaty Black basketball players. It’s very raw and animal-like and sexy as hell. (Can you tell that my recent mood swing has ended?) Anyway, we’re hanging out and I notice this one guy that I wasn’t really that familiar with. He was a little older and had graduated high school before I was a freshman so we had never met. His name was Tim. Tim was of average height but he had a huge barrel for a chest and really thick, muscular thighs. I like my men THICK – almost fat. For me, more weight is always better than less. But there are limits.
After a while we made eye contact, but I have never been bold enough to just walk up and start talking. A man always has to approach me first …once he does, then it’s on. He was taking too long and I was getting bored so I told my girls that I was ready to go. Tim called out to my girl, Charlotte and she walked over to him and they started talking. When she rejoined us she said that Tim wanted to take us to get something to eat. Actually, he told Charlotte that he would take her for some pizza if she would just keep me at the basketball court. Charlotte was greedy as hell and promising her food was smart on his part.
Tim, as it turned out, was the older brother of a girl that my older brother used to date. We talked a lot that night and we made a date for the following weekend. I think we went to dinner and a movie … I can’t remember but it was a typical date. As a young, Black woman I didn’t really know how to date … all I knew was being in a relationship so Tim quickly became my man. And I loved the hell outta that man. He was older, he was sexy and he had really big, strong hands. He was the first man to ever say “Just relax, baby … relax”, while … well … um, nevermind.
Sidebar: Don’t believe it, ladies. No amount of relaxing is gonna make it work.
Anyway, our relationship for one reason or another became quite volatile. I think Tim began to believe his own hype and began stepping out on me. We had quite a few run-ins –keep in mind I was 20 years old and MEAN. During one particular incident, I had decided to go on a double date with my sister and these two dudes. Tim and I were on a break, or so I thought. The four of us were at this club sitting at a table when my sister noticed that Tim had just walked in. She motioned to me and I left the table and went around back toward the restrooms. Tim followed.
Tim: Who’s that?
Me: What?
Tim: Don’t play stupid! Who the hell is that guy?
Me: Why you worried about? It’s not like you want me!
Tim grabbed my arm and knocked over a table and told me not to play with him. I snatched my arm away and rejoined my sister and the guys. My sister already had the purses and coats and was heading for the door. We got the hell outta there before it got really stupid. We left and went to another club and I was able to convince my date that everything was cool. Of course, Tim and I got back together after that. We did a lot of that break-up-make-up nonsense.
Finally, the last straw came after almost three years. My sister had gotten engaged to a guy that she had been dating for less than a year. At that point I realized that Tim was never going to marry me and I was just wasting my time. So I broke up with him. After three years of BS I was tired and ready to leave it alone.
The heartbreak came when less than a year later he asked a friend of mine to be his wife. So I had to deal with the fact that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to get married – he just didn’t want to marry ME. That was a helluva blow for a person with an ego the size of mine. His bride-to-be was a girl that I went to high school with. Nice girl. She and my sister were very close friends and my sister was even going to be part of the bridal party. Now my sister, being who she is, was pissed when she learned that I wasn’t invited to the wedding. After all, the bride and I were friends. Why shouldn’t I be invited? I didn’t care one way or the other and truthfully I didn’t want to go – it would have been very uncomfortable for me. I was dating someone else at the time (the man who would become my first husband) but I still didn’t want to be bothered. The bride ended up calling me and told me that I was invited and she hoped that there were no hard feelings between us. There weren’t any hard feelings but I still didn’t go.
Anyway, years passed and they had two children. I got married and had my children and all is good in the hood, right?
Wrong.
As it turns out, his wife decided after about ten years of marriage that she was really into women. Yeah. She’s a lesbian. She divorced him a few years back and she is now living happily on the west coast.
I think that can be considered karma.
However, once you got older thoughts of revenge no longer invaded your mind on such a regular basis. You discovered karma and realized that anyone who hurt you would eventually get what was coming to them and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. That’s how the universe works.
The Bible says that the Lord will make your enemies your footstool. The 23rd Psalm says “… thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies”. Loosely translated: Living well is the best revenge. I believe that. So we don’t have to lift a finger to make sure that they get got. And if you’re lucky … you’ll get to see it happen. Not that I enjoy the misfortune of others ... but ... you know what I mean.
It was the summer of 1984 and I had just moved home from Boston (i.e. dropped out of college). Me and my girls were hanging out at the basketball courts watching the glistening bodies of the brothas run up and down the court. Different things do it for different people – I like to watch sweaty Black basketball players. It’s very raw and animal-like and sexy as hell. (Can you tell that my recent mood swing has ended?) Anyway, we’re hanging out and I notice this one guy that I wasn’t really that familiar with. He was a little older and had graduated high school before I was a freshman so we had never met. His name was Tim. Tim was of average height but he had a huge barrel for a chest and really thick, muscular thighs. I like my men THICK – almost fat. For me, more weight is always better than less. But there are limits.
After a while we made eye contact, but I have never been bold enough to just walk up and start talking. A man always has to approach me first …once he does, then it’s on. He was taking too long and I was getting bored so I told my girls that I was ready to go. Tim called out to my girl, Charlotte and she walked over to him and they started talking. When she rejoined us she said that Tim wanted to take us to get something to eat. Actually, he told Charlotte that he would take her for some pizza if she would just keep me at the basketball court. Charlotte was greedy as hell and promising her food was smart on his part.
Tim, as it turned out, was the older brother of a girl that my older brother used to date. We talked a lot that night and we made a date for the following weekend. I think we went to dinner and a movie … I can’t remember but it was a typical date. As a young, Black woman I didn’t really know how to date … all I knew was being in a relationship so Tim quickly became my man. And I loved the hell outta that man. He was older, he was sexy and he had really big, strong hands. He was the first man to ever say “Just relax, baby … relax”, while … well … um, nevermind.
Sidebar: Don’t believe it, ladies. No amount of relaxing is gonna make it work.
Anyway, our relationship for one reason or another became quite volatile. I think Tim began to believe his own hype and began stepping out on me. We had quite a few run-ins –keep in mind I was 20 years old and MEAN. During one particular incident, I had decided to go on a double date with my sister and these two dudes. Tim and I were on a break, or so I thought. The four of us were at this club sitting at a table when my sister noticed that Tim had just walked in. She motioned to me and I left the table and went around back toward the restrooms. Tim followed.
Tim: Who’s that?
Me: What?
Tim: Don’t play stupid! Who the hell is that guy?
Me: Why you worried about? It’s not like you want me!
Tim grabbed my arm and knocked over a table and told me not to play with him. I snatched my arm away and rejoined my sister and the guys. My sister already had the purses and coats and was heading for the door. We got the hell outta there before it got really stupid. We left and went to another club and I was able to convince my date that everything was cool. Of course, Tim and I got back together after that. We did a lot of that break-up-make-up nonsense.
Finally, the last straw came after almost three years. My sister had gotten engaged to a guy that she had been dating for less than a year. At that point I realized that Tim was never going to marry me and I was just wasting my time. So I broke up with him. After three years of BS I was tired and ready to leave it alone.
The heartbreak came when less than a year later he asked a friend of mine to be his wife. So I had to deal with the fact that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to get married – he just didn’t want to marry ME. That was a helluva blow for a person with an ego the size of mine. His bride-to-be was a girl that I went to high school with. Nice girl. She and my sister were very close friends and my sister was even going to be part of the bridal party. Now my sister, being who she is, was pissed when she learned that I wasn’t invited to the wedding. After all, the bride and I were friends. Why shouldn’t I be invited? I didn’t care one way or the other and truthfully I didn’t want to go – it would have been very uncomfortable for me. I was dating someone else at the time (the man who would become my first husband) but I still didn’t want to be bothered. The bride ended up calling me and told me that I was invited and she hoped that there were no hard feelings between us. There weren’t any hard feelings but I still didn’t go.
Anyway, years passed and they had two children. I got married and had my children and all is good in the hood, right?
Wrong.
As it turns out, his wife decided after about ten years of marriage that she was really into women. Yeah. She’s a lesbian. She divorced him a few years back and she is now living happily on the west coast.
I think that can be considered karma.
Blessed by chele at 9:47 AM | Permalink |
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Sybil Strikes!
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
I have a dilemma. Yesterday I prepared a witty, scathing Valentine’s Day-bashing post. I was all ready to post it too. Then I got up this morning and read The Daily Bread. Messed up my whole program. Of course it dealt with the real meaning of love as defined in the 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians. Now I’m moved to write about that.
I don’t want to waste a perfectly good post. So here’s what I’ve come up with: Since I’m in the middle of a terrible mood swing and I’m acting like Sybil anyway, I may as well post like her too … I’m putting them both up.
Love Never Fails
From today’s Daily Bread: Well-known scientist and writer Henry Drummond (1857-1897) conducted a geological survey of South Africa and wrote what was then the definitive work on tropical Africa. But he is best remembered for his book about love, The Greatest Thing In The World.
Drummond wrote, "As memory scans the past, above and beyond all the transitory pleasures of life, there leap forward those supreme hours when you have been enabled to do unnoticed kindnesses to those round about you, things too trifling to speak about . . . . And these seem to be the things which alone of all one's life abide."
I love this. The small, unnoticed kindnesses that are just too trifling to even speak about. Think about that for a minute.
We get so caught up with what we want and what we can get. Everyone seems to be out for themselves these days. Which is probably why we feel so unfulfilled. So I went back to 1 Corinthians 13 and pulled out these words:
Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth
That’s a pretty tall order. Can you imagine loving like that? Suffering long? Seeking not your own? Bearing all things and enduring all things? I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around that concept. I’m hopeful. It can’t be impossible and I believe the bottom line is to just put someone else first. My problem is repeatedly putting him first and repeatedly getting kicked in the teeth for my efforts. It kind of sours one on the concept of the 1 Corinthians kind of love, you know what I mean? But like I said, I’m hopeful.
Happy Friggin' Valentine’s Day
This is a tongue-in-cheek look at the reasons why I’m just not feeling Valentine’s Day. I hope all you real hopeless romantics don’t take this too seriously. My intent is not to rain on anyone’s parade … just to have a little fun on this crappy, heart filled, fake ass holiday.
Every year on Valentine’s Day I buy a card and a box of chocolates for each of my children. I'm really excited because I was able to find See's candy which is generally found on the west coast. I love See's -- second only to Godiva. Anyway, I remember my father doing this for me and my sisters and I guess I wanted to continue the tradition. He always brought home a huge heart shaped box of candy for my mom. It was nice.
That is probably the only positive memory of Valentine’s Day that I have. I’m 41 years old. I’ve had two husbands and countless numbers of boyfriends (yes, countless!) and the only memorable Valentine’s Days are the ones that include my father! What the hell? Come to think of it … I did get a beautiful card from my best friend Mark this year and I think D may have proposed sometime around (not on) Valentine’s Day in 1993. I don’t remember.
Either:
I have a really bad memory
None of my exes were very creative or left a lasting impression
My lack of a significant other on Valentine’s Day 2006 has completely clouded my judgment.
I’m just a really cold woman, who does not possess a romantic bone in her body.
Or, my father is the only man that I really still love
Ain’t that sweet? Don’t get it twisted, I am not trying to intellectualize how I feel about this day. Even when I’m in a relationship this day seems more like a nuisance than anything else. I usually wait until the last minute to buy a gift just in case a brotha wants to act up … know what I mean? It’s just that when I’m in love with someone I make sure that they know it everyday. Not just on February 14th so the fact that I am made to feel obligated to give and receive bullshit tokens pisses me off.
Over the years the gifts I’ve given on Valentine’s Day included silk boxers, watches, flowers and cards. Truthfully, I don’t think any of the recipients are sitting around wondering what I’m doing this year. Well, maybe one or two are wondering ... but it’s not because of any gift that I gave them. It’s probably because they are trying to remember the last time their toes curled like that! ;-)
I am so not looking forward to this day at the office either. The constant parade of deliverymen coming in and out of the building and the squealing females who probably told their men that they had better send some flowers to the office. Let’s be honest, those flowers aren’t for the intended recipient, they are for the dozens of onlookers who are now supposed to believe that Joanne’s husband is a ‘great guy’ – even though she makes it a habit of telling everyone within listening distance what an asshole he is the other 364 days of the year. What a crock.
Happy Friggin' Valentine’s Day!
I don’t want to waste a perfectly good post. So here’s what I’ve come up with: Since I’m in the middle of a terrible mood swing and I’m acting like Sybil anyway, I may as well post like her too … I’m putting them both up.
Love Never Fails
From today’s Daily Bread: Well-known scientist and writer Henry Drummond (1857-1897) conducted a geological survey of South Africa and wrote what was then the definitive work on tropical Africa. But he is best remembered for his book about love, The Greatest Thing In The World.
Drummond wrote, "As memory scans the past, above and beyond all the transitory pleasures of life, there leap forward those supreme hours when you have been enabled to do unnoticed kindnesses to those round about you, things too trifling to speak about . . . . And these seem to be the things which alone of all one's life abide."
I love this. The small, unnoticed kindnesses that are just too trifling to even speak about. Think about that for a minute.
We get so caught up with what we want and what we can get. Everyone seems to be out for themselves these days. Which is probably why we feel so unfulfilled. So I went back to 1 Corinthians 13 and pulled out these words:
Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth
That’s a pretty tall order. Can you imagine loving like that? Suffering long? Seeking not your own? Bearing all things and enduring all things? I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around that concept. I’m hopeful. It can’t be impossible and I believe the bottom line is to just put someone else first. My problem is repeatedly putting him first and repeatedly getting kicked in the teeth for my efforts. It kind of sours one on the concept of the 1 Corinthians kind of love, you know what I mean? But like I said, I’m hopeful.
Happy Friggin' Valentine’s Day
This is a tongue-in-cheek look at the reasons why I’m just not feeling Valentine’s Day. I hope all you real hopeless romantics don’t take this too seriously. My intent is not to rain on anyone’s parade … just to have a little fun on this crappy, heart filled, fake ass holiday.
Every year on Valentine’s Day I buy a card and a box of chocolates for each of my children. I'm really excited because I was able to find See's candy which is generally found on the west coast. I love See's -- second only to Godiva. Anyway, I remember my father doing this for me and my sisters and I guess I wanted to continue the tradition. He always brought home a huge heart shaped box of candy for my mom. It was nice.
That is probably the only positive memory of Valentine’s Day that I have. I’m 41 years old. I’ve had two husbands and countless numbers of boyfriends (yes, countless!) and the only memorable Valentine’s Days are the ones that include my father! What the hell? Come to think of it … I did get a beautiful card from my best friend Mark this year and I think D may have proposed sometime around (not on) Valentine’s Day in 1993. I don’t remember.
Either:
I have a really bad memory
None of my exes were very creative or left a lasting impression
My lack of a significant other on Valentine’s Day 2006 has completely clouded my judgment.
I’m just a really cold woman, who does not possess a romantic bone in her body.
Or, my father is the only man that I really still love
Ain’t that sweet? Don’t get it twisted, I am not trying to intellectualize how I feel about this day. Even when I’m in a relationship this day seems more like a nuisance than anything else. I usually wait until the last minute to buy a gift just in case a brotha wants to act up … know what I mean? It’s just that when I’m in love with someone I make sure that they know it everyday. Not just on February 14th so the fact that I am made to feel obligated to give and receive bullshit tokens pisses me off.
Over the years the gifts I’ve given on Valentine’s Day included silk boxers, watches, flowers and cards. Truthfully, I don’t think any of the recipients are sitting around wondering what I’m doing this year. Well, maybe one or two are wondering ... but it’s not because of any gift that I gave them. It’s probably because they are trying to remember the last time their toes curled like that! ;-)
I am so not looking forward to this day at the office either. The constant parade of deliverymen coming in and out of the building and the squealing females who probably told their men that they had better send some flowers to the office. Let’s be honest, those flowers aren’t for the intended recipient, they are for the dozens of onlookers who are now supposed to believe that Joanne’s husband is a ‘great guy’ – even though she makes it a habit of telling everyone within listening distance what an asshole he is the other 364 days of the year. What a crock.
Happy Friggin' Valentine’s Day!
Blessed by chele at 8:32 AM | Permalink |
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Tidbits for a Rainy Saturday
Saturday, February 11, 2006
I changed my hairstyle today and I'm feeling pretty good about it. It's all bouncy with soft curls framing my face. There's nothing like a new do to lift your spirits.
Since I managed to alienate both my children today I decided to venture out and take myself to the movies. I went to see Brokeback Mountain. I've wanted to see it since it was released but couldn't get anyone to go with me so today I made the trip alone. I really enjoyed the movie. It was beautifully shot and the story was poignant and moving. However, the lady who sat in front of me in the theater was boo-hooing like there was no tomorrow! Okay, it was a sad story of forbidden love and had it been between a man and a woman I probably would have been crying too but I couldn't get past the fact that it was two dudes. The film was very well done and I'm not taking anything away from it but I couldn't shed a tear and I'm probably the biggest mush I know.
For future reference, I will be referring to my ex-husband as D and my ex-boyfriend as B. I have a feeling both of them may be making a few appearances in this blog over the next few days ... honestly I don't want to be bothered with either one of them. D has not made another attempt since the other night, however, I noticed he called the house earlier while I was out. B called me earlier sounding all sad talking about how much he misses me and how wonderful I am. Too bad he didn't realize how wonderful I was when we were together. He had a gig last night and he told me that one of the waitresses was asking for me. She liked to hear me sing "Proud Mary" and asked him where I was. Whatever. Moving on.
For the last few days I have been saying how much I hate Valentine's Day. I really do. Well, today I received a Valentine's Day card in the mail from my best friend Mark. Mark and I have been best friends for more than 25 years. He never forgets my birthday or the birthdays of my children. He always remembers my kids at Christmas and he's quick to share a funny story or an accomplishment with me. He lives many miles away with his wife and children but our friendship has endured. Then I realized something ... Valentine's Day should be spent celebrating the love that is present in our lives, not mourning the love that is no longer in our lives. It's still a fake ass holiday ... but I just feel better about it now since I put some perspective to it.
I picked up two new books today. Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda by LaJill Hunt and The Preacher's Son by Carl Weber. This is my first time reading LaJill Hunt but I have read a few of Carl Weber's books and I really enjoy them. I also listened to Mary J. Blige's new CD this morning while I was soaking in the tub. I've had it for a while but today was the first time I really listened to the lyrics. Most of the songs deal with how much she loves Kendu but there are a few tracks that deal with not putting up with anymore BS ... that's where I'm at right now and I could seriously relate. I loved it.
I'm feeling good ya'll. It's been a good day. And I couldn't be more thankful.
Since I managed to alienate both my children today I decided to venture out and take myself to the movies. I went to see Brokeback Mountain. I've wanted to see it since it was released but couldn't get anyone to go with me so today I made the trip alone. I really enjoyed the movie. It was beautifully shot and the story was poignant and moving. However, the lady who sat in front of me in the theater was boo-hooing like there was no tomorrow! Okay, it was a sad story of forbidden love and had it been between a man and a woman I probably would have been crying too but I couldn't get past the fact that it was two dudes. The film was very well done and I'm not taking anything away from it but I couldn't shed a tear and I'm probably the biggest mush I know.
For future reference, I will be referring to my ex-husband as D and my ex-boyfriend as B. I have a feeling both of them may be making a few appearances in this blog over the next few days ... honestly I don't want to be bothered with either one of them. D has not made another attempt since the other night, however, I noticed he called the house earlier while I was out. B called me earlier sounding all sad talking about how much he misses me and how wonderful I am. Too bad he didn't realize how wonderful I was when we were together. He had a gig last night and he told me that one of the waitresses was asking for me. She liked to hear me sing "Proud Mary" and asked him where I was. Whatever. Moving on.
For the last few days I have been saying how much I hate Valentine's Day. I really do. Well, today I received a Valentine's Day card in the mail from my best friend Mark. Mark and I have been best friends for more than 25 years. He never forgets my birthday or the birthdays of my children. He always remembers my kids at Christmas and he's quick to share a funny story or an accomplishment with me. He lives many miles away with his wife and children but our friendship has endured. Then I realized something ... Valentine's Day should be spent celebrating the love that is present in our lives, not mourning the love that is no longer in our lives. It's still a fake ass holiday ... but I just feel better about it now since I put some perspective to it.
I picked up two new books today. Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda by LaJill Hunt and The Preacher's Son by Carl Weber. This is my first time reading LaJill Hunt but I have read a few of Carl Weber's books and I really enjoy them. I also listened to Mary J. Blige's new CD this morning while I was soaking in the tub. I've had it for a while but today was the first time I really listened to the lyrics. Most of the songs deal with how much she loves Kendu but there are a few tracks that deal with not putting up with anymore BS ... that's where I'm at right now and I could seriously relate. I loved it.
I'm feeling good ya'll. It's been a good day. And I couldn't be more thankful.
Blessed by chele at 8:13 PM | Permalink |
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Cosmopolitans and Honesty
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Okay. Today I read one of the most honest and heart wrenching posts from That Girl Tam. It was incredible. I wish I could be that honest. This is supposed to be a safe place. You know, all anonymous and shit -- especially for me since no one I know knows I blog.
Well, I had a dance class this evening and my sister and I decided to stop off for a drink afterward and after two cosmopolitans I feel like writing. So here goes.
My ex-husband is trying to seduce me. That son of a bitch.
This is why I stay away from having a friendly relationship with him because somehow or another we end up strolling down memory lane and that always leads to us being naked.
I felt really good about the fact that we are being civil -- you know for the kids. But now he's trying to turn it into something else and I want to punch him right in the face. We've been down this road before since we've been divorced and it ended up being horrible. Not the sex -- that was amazing ... I mean how I felt afterward. I expected a new beginning. All he expected was more sex.
Anyway, he called me tonight and I expected him to ask to speak to my daughter. Instead he started up a conversation with me. He was going on about how he was surprised by our friendly interaction over the weekend at the step show. Afterward he began to reminisce and think about the old days, yada yada yada. Which led to our conversation this evening which got a little off track and led to some very suggestive topics. I hate him.
I reminded him that he is an almost married man. You know what he said? "Yeah, almost ... with a capitol A." I told him how wrong he was. That he can't call me talking a whole bunch of shit when he is involved with someone else. He agreed that he was being an asshole and he semi-apologized. I know he didn't mean it. After he put the offer on the table I said, "No thanks. Been there and done that!" You know what he said? "That was then -- this is now." His intent was to spark my curiosity which he did -- but I can't do that. Not to his woman and not to myself.
Why do they do that? I know he's going to try again. No one knows me better than he does. He knows what to say to get to me. Of course, the choice will always remain with me. I can decide to do the right thing. And I'm going to. But I wonder why some women (me) tend to allow sex to cloud our good judgement? Why do we associate sex with love or some other deep emotion when most of the time it really is just SEX.
With him, I get confused because of our daughter. We have this one beautiful thing that we share. Even if we never share anything else we will always share her. And I get so emotional when it comes to her that the love lines get blurry. I love her and I love him for giving me her. You know? This is crazy. I am not going to fall into that trap again. But I know he's not going to give up easily.
'night ya'll.
Well, I had a dance class this evening and my sister and I decided to stop off for a drink afterward and after two cosmopolitans I feel like writing. So here goes.
My ex-husband is trying to seduce me. That son of a bitch.
This is why I stay away from having a friendly relationship with him because somehow or another we end up strolling down memory lane and that always leads to us being naked.
I felt really good about the fact that we are being civil -- you know for the kids. But now he's trying to turn it into something else and I want to punch him right in the face. We've been down this road before since we've been divorced and it ended up being horrible. Not the sex -- that was amazing ... I mean how I felt afterward. I expected a new beginning. All he expected was more sex.
Anyway, he called me tonight and I expected him to ask to speak to my daughter. Instead he started up a conversation with me. He was going on about how he was surprised by our friendly interaction over the weekend at the step show. Afterward he began to reminisce and think about the old days, yada yada yada. Which led to our conversation this evening which got a little off track and led to some very suggestive topics. I hate him.
I reminded him that he is an almost married man. You know what he said? "Yeah, almost ... with a capitol A." I told him how wrong he was. That he can't call me talking a whole bunch of shit when he is involved with someone else. He agreed that he was being an asshole and he semi-apologized. I know he didn't mean it. After he put the offer on the table I said, "No thanks. Been there and done that!" You know what he said? "That was then -- this is now." His intent was to spark my curiosity which he did -- but I can't do that. Not to his woman and not to myself.
Why do they do that? I know he's going to try again. No one knows me better than he does. He knows what to say to get to me. Of course, the choice will always remain with me. I can decide to do the right thing. And I'm going to. But I wonder why some women (me) tend to allow sex to cloud our good judgement? Why do we associate sex with love or some other deep emotion when most of the time it really is just SEX.
With him, I get confused because of our daughter. We have this one beautiful thing that we share. Even if we never share anything else we will always share her. And I get so emotional when it comes to her that the love lines get blurry. I love her and I love him for giving me her. You know? This is crazy. I am not going to fall into that trap again. But I know he's not going to give up easily.
'night ya'll.
Blessed by chele at 11:13 PM | Permalink |
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Blah Blah Blah
I fell asleep during the Grammys but not before I saw Kanye's crazy outfit. What the hell is that boy's problem? Don't even get me started on Sly Stone. My people, my people!
My son is mad at me because I embarrassed him while he was on the phone with some triflin girl. He's giving me the silent treatment which I hate. Little does he know I invented the silent treatment and he'll need me before I need him. The weekend is coming and he'll want to do something. I still have to admit that it bothers me when he's upset ... he's still my baby.
My daughter, my little girl, my real baby ... is no longer a little girl. She began her "ladies' time" this week. I know that sounds corny ... okay ... she started her period! OMG! I can't stand this. I'm not ready for this. I called to tell her father and he almost ran off the road. My mother said, "Well, that's something else for you to pray about." My sister laughed at me -- she has two teenaged daughters and knows what I'm feeling. Damn mother nature!
My boss is out of town and I really had to force myself not to call in sick today. You know I don't think I have ever in my entire life called in sick when I wasn't sick. I'm long overdue.
I hate Valentine's Day and every single fake holiday that is designed to make single women feel bad. I bought myself a new D&B purse to celebrate the occasion. What the hell is Sweetest Day anyway? (October 21st).
I'm planning a trip to the ATL for a family reunion in July. These are family members that I don't know and they don't know me but I'm making the trip to get to know them. This oughta be a trip. This is the family of my biological father. He has passed away and some of his family members (brothers, son and daughter) have welcomed me into the family. How nice. Not sure how I feel about it.
I'm restless as hell.
I saw a story on the news this morning about the local police department. They are graduating a new class tonight so we'll have a whole new crop of officers on the road. Problem is, there is not one Black police cadet graduating. Not one. Well, the department says it's because none of the Blacks could pass the math portion of the test that would make them eligible to pass. The Justice Department has gotten involved and they are crying foul accusing the police department of discriminatig against Blacks and Hispanics. Here's an example of one of the math questions on the test:
“On Tuesday, Officer Jones worked the 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. shift. At 10:55 p.m. he was called to the scene of an accident where he remained until 1:30 a.m. How long past his regular shift did Officer Jones work?”
I'm a self-admitted math idiot and I can answer that question. Sounds fishy to me. Clearly there is something else going on besides this math test. How shocking! Discrimination in the south? Say it ain't so!
I think I'm in love with Common. Anyone got his number?
Gotta go.
My son is mad at me because I embarrassed him while he was on the phone with some triflin girl. He's giving me the silent treatment which I hate. Little does he know I invented the silent treatment and he'll need me before I need him. The weekend is coming and he'll want to do something. I still have to admit that it bothers me when he's upset ... he's still my baby.
My daughter, my little girl, my real baby ... is no longer a little girl. She began her "ladies' time" this week. I know that sounds corny ... okay ... she started her period! OMG! I can't stand this. I'm not ready for this. I called to tell her father and he almost ran off the road. My mother said, "Well, that's something else for you to pray about." My sister laughed at me -- she has two teenaged daughters and knows what I'm feeling. Damn mother nature!
My boss is out of town and I really had to force myself not to call in sick today. You know I don't think I have ever in my entire life called in sick when I wasn't sick. I'm long overdue.
I hate Valentine's Day and every single fake holiday that is designed to make single women feel bad. I bought myself a new D&B purse to celebrate the occasion. What the hell is Sweetest Day anyway? (October 21st).
I'm planning a trip to the ATL for a family reunion in July. These are family members that I don't know and they don't know me but I'm making the trip to get to know them. This oughta be a trip. This is the family of my biological father. He has passed away and some of his family members (brothers, son and daughter) have welcomed me into the family. How nice. Not sure how I feel about it.
I'm restless as hell.
I saw a story on the news this morning about the local police department. They are graduating a new class tonight so we'll have a whole new crop of officers on the road. Problem is, there is not one Black police cadet graduating. Not one. Well, the department says it's because none of the Blacks could pass the math portion of the test that would make them eligible to pass. The Justice Department has gotten involved and they are crying foul accusing the police department of discriminatig against Blacks and Hispanics. Here's an example of one of the math questions on the test:
“On Tuesday, Officer Jones worked the 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. shift. At 10:55 p.m. he was called to the scene of an accident where he remained until 1:30 a.m. How long past his regular shift did Officer Jones work?”
I'm a self-admitted math idiot and I can answer that question. Sounds fishy to me. Clearly there is something else going on besides this math test. How shocking! Discrimination in the south? Say it ain't so!
I think I'm in love with Common. Anyone got his number?
Gotta go.
Blessed by chele at 8:41 AM | Permalink |
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Had Any Good Dreams Lately?
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
They say that we dream every night. I never remember my dreams. Except for the one I had last night.
My sister and I lived in this big beautiful house that our mother left to us. For some reason, my father decides that he is going to move in and immediately start changing things around the house. He took over the big bedroom and he's putting all kinds of crazy stuff on the walls. His presence is making things very uncomfortable for us to the point where we just can't take it anymore. While my sister decides to suck it up and deal with it, I decided to move out and find my own place. "I'm going back to the beach!" I declared in the dream. It was scary at first but at the end of the dream I'm riding off on a little beach cruiser-type bicycle with a smile on my face.
Now, I'm not much on dream interpretation. It's been said that dreams can tell you when something is about to happen or they can confirm that something has already happened. In my case this dream is confirmation.
Let's just say that I have been in an uncomfortable situation for a while and I finally took positive steps to get out of it. It took a lot of praying and faith but I did what I had to do. In the dream, my "father" represents God shaking up my so-called happy life until it is so uncomfortable for me I have to make a change. I made this change 11 days ago and I believe that this dream is confirmation that I did the right thing.
Any thoughts?
p.s. Shawn -- don't start calling me "Spiritual", okay?
My sister and I lived in this big beautiful house that our mother left to us. For some reason, my father decides that he is going to move in and immediately start changing things around the house. He took over the big bedroom and he's putting all kinds of crazy stuff on the walls. His presence is making things very uncomfortable for us to the point where we just can't take it anymore. While my sister decides to suck it up and deal with it, I decided to move out and find my own place. "I'm going back to the beach!" I declared in the dream. It was scary at first but at the end of the dream I'm riding off on a little beach cruiser-type bicycle with a smile on my face.
Now, I'm not much on dream interpretation. It's been said that dreams can tell you when something is about to happen or they can confirm that something has already happened. In my case this dream is confirmation.
Let's just say that I have been in an uncomfortable situation for a while and I finally took positive steps to get out of it. It took a lot of praying and faith but I did what I had to do. In the dream, my "father" represents God shaking up my so-called happy life until it is so uncomfortable for me I have to make a change. I made this change 11 days ago and I believe that this dream is confirmation that I did the right thing.
Any thoughts?
p.s. Shawn -- don't start calling me "Spiritual", okay?
Blessed by chele at 6:05 AM | Permalink |
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Secrets Revealed!
Monday, February 06, 2006
| Your Love Life Secrets Are |
 Looking back on your life, you will have a few true loves. You're a little scarred from your past relationships, but who isn't? It's important to you that your lover is very attractive. You like to have someone to show off. In fights, you are able to walk away and calm down. You are able to weather the storm. Break-ups can be painful for you, but you never show it. You hold your head high. |
Blessed by chele at 3:23 PM | Permalink |
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Then How Come I Don't Have a Man????
| You Are A Professional Girlfriend! |
 You are the perfect girlfriend - big surprise! Heaven knows you've had enough practice. That's why you're a total pro. If there was an Emily Post of girlfriends, it would be you. You know how to act in every situation ... to make both you and your guy happy. |
Blessed by chele at 3:09 PM | Permalink |
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My Perfect Soundtrack
I got this idea from Ddot and I thought I’d give it a try … introducing my perfect soundtrack:
1. A favorite political track – Abraham, Martin & John (Richard Holler)
The first political song I remember hearing as a child.
2. Song that makes you dance no matter what – Push It (Salt ‘n Pepa)
This song is only for the sexy people ...
3. Song you’d use to tell someone you love them – You Bring Me Joy (Anita Baker)
You can't go wrong with Ms. Baker
4. Song that has made you sit down and analyze it’s lyrics - Brown Sugar (D’angelo)
I had to understand the 'weed' connection
5. Song you like, that a two year old would like as well – Summertime – Will Smith
summer, summer, summer time ... who doesn't like summer time?
6. Song that gives you an energy boost – Grown and Sexy (Babyface)
Because I am
7. A song you and your grandparents would like – God Bless the Child (Billie Holiday)
8. Song you really liked when you were 14-16, and still really like now – I'm Only Human (Human League) I like the twist at the end of this song. Human League was the bomb!
9. Sad song that would be in the soundtrack of the movie about your life - On My Own (Patti LaBelle)
10. Peppy song that would start the opening credits in the movie of your life – I’m Coming Out (Diana Ross)
11. Good song from a genre of music no one would guess that you liked – Little Wing (Jimi Hendrix) I have a thing for guitar players
12. Song that you think should have been playing when you were born – Isn’t She Lovely? (Stevie Wonder)
13. A favorite artist duo collaboration – Endless Love (Diana Ross & Lionel Ritchie)
14. A favorite song that you completely disagree with (politically, morally,commonsenically, religiously etc.) – O.P.P. (Naughty By Nature) I'm ashamed to say that I know all the lyrics to this song
15. The song that you like despite the fact your IQ level drops several points every time you listen to it. – Shake Ya Tailfeather (Diddy, Nelly, Murphy Lee) "... so when you shake it I see your thong" what the hell?
16. Your smooth song for relaxing Anything by Kem
17. A song you would send to someone you hate or are mad at – I’m a Survivor (Destiny’s Child) Living well is the best revenge
18. A favorite track from an outfit considered a “super-group" – Pure Gold (Earth, Wind & Fire)
19. A song that makes you reminisce about good times with a family member – Meeting in the Ladies Room (Klymaxx) Sneaking into the club with my sister and knowing that we were ALL THAT!
20. Your favorite song at this moment in time - Be Blessed (Yolanda Adams)
1. A favorite political track – Abraham, Martin & John (Richard Holler)
The first political song I remember hearing as a child.
2. Song that makes you dance no matter what – Push It (Salt ‘n Pepa)
This song is only for the sexy people ...
3. Song you’d use to tell someone you love them – You Bring Me Joy (Anita Baker)
You can't go wrong with Ms. Baker
4. Song that has made you sit down and analyze it’s lyrics - Brown Sugar (D’angelo)
I had to understand the 'weed' connection
5. Song you like, that a two year old would like as well – Summertime – Will Smith
summer, summer, summer time ... who doesn't like summer time?
6. Song that gives you an energy boost – Grown and Sexy (Babyface)
Because I am
7. A song you and your grandparents would like – God Bless the Child (Billie Holiday)
8. Song you really liked when you were 14-16, and still really like now – I'm Only Human (Human League) I like the twist at the end of this song. Human League was the bomb!
9. Sad song that would be in the soundtrack of the movie about your life - On My Own (Patti LaBelle)
10. Peppy song that would start the opening credits in the movie of your life – I’m Coming Out (Diana Ross)
11. Good song from a genre of music no one would guess that you liked – Little Wing (Jimi Hendrix) I have a thing for guitar players
12. Song that you think should have been playing when you were born – Isn’t She Lovely? (Stevie Wonder)
13. A favorite artist duo collaboration – Endless Love (Diana Ross & Lionel Ritchie)
14. A favorite song that you completely disagree with (politically, morally,commonsenically, religiously etc.) – O.P.P. (Naughty By Nature) I'm ashamed to say that I know all the lyrics to this song
15. The song that you like despite the fact your IQ level drops several points every time you listen to it. – Shake Ya Tailfeather (Diddy, Nelly, Murphy Lee) "... so when you shake it I see your thong" what the hell?
16. Your smooth song for relaxing Anything by Kem
17. A song you would send to someone you hate or are mad at – I’m a Survivor (Destiny’s Child) Living well is the best revenge
18. A favorite track from an outfit considered a “super-group" – Pure Gold (Earth, Wind & Fire)
19. A song that makes you reminisce about good times with a family member – Meeting in the Ladies Room (Klymaxx) Sneaking into the club with my sister and knowing that we were ALL THAT!
20. Your favorite song at this moment in time - Be Blessed (Yolanda Adams)
Blessed by chele at 11:40 AM | Permalink |
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Apologies
Saturday, February 04, 2006
It's never too late to offer or accept an apology.
Lucky for me.
History Lesson: I have always hated apologizing. Let me rephrase that ... I never believed I needed to apologize for anything because I never believed I ever did anything wrong. Ever. I was the type of person who believed that everything I ever did (whether it hurt you or not) was justifiable and therefore did not warrant an apology.
Is that arrogance or what?
Fast forward several years. I told ya'll how my daughter's step team provided an opportunity for my (second) ex-husband and I to become friends. That is still so weird ... I mean, I carried around so much bitterness toward that man for so long -- I never thought that we could actually sit next to each other in an auditorium, laughing and talking like we had been friends for years. I remember a while ago asking God to allow me to have a better relationship with him for the sake of my children. I had forgotten that prayer until just now. I guess God didn't.
We attended another step show tonight and as usual the SWAT team did a wonderful job. My ex and I were talking and I asked him if he and his fiancee had set a wedding date. He shook his head 'no', explaining that he was scared. I felt bad about that. I mean, I'm scared to get married again too but he's so young (33) and I just hope that he doesn't allow his fear to cripple him. He brought up alot of stuff that happened in our marriage, good and bad, and I was surprised that he remembered half that stuff. Like the first day we met:
Him: Yeah, it was a Saturday, September 5, 1992 -- you were wearing one of those half shirts and a pair of jeans. I saw your belly button (reflective pause) ... yeah I still remember that.
When we got married it didn't go over well with his mother. In other words, she hated the idea of her 20-year old son marrying a 28-year old, divorced woman with a child. I took it personally and always felt like she would never accept me into their family. As arrogant as I was, my attitude was "screw her -- her loss". Consequently, everytime he went home to visit, I never accompanied him. That really hurt his feelings but I thought I was justified. Why would I voluntarily put myself in an uncomfortable position with his mother? Not me!
I was wrong for that and tonight I apologized to him. He accepted.
Lucky for me.
History Lesson: I have always hated apologizing. Let me rephrase that ... I never believed I needed to apologize for anything because I never believed I ever did anything wrong. Ever. I was the type of person who believed that everything I ever did (whether it hurt you or not) was justifiable and therefore did not warrant an apology.
Is that arrogance or what?
Fast forward several years. I told ya'll how my daughter's step team provided an opportunity for my (second) ex-husband and I to become friends. That is still so weird ... I mean, I carried around so much bitterness toward that man for so long -- I never thought that we could actually sit next to each other in an auditorium, laughing and talking like we had been friends for years. I remember a while ago asking God to allow me to have a better relationship with him for the sake of my children. I had forgotten that prayer until just now. I guess God didn't.
We attended another step show tonight and as usual the SWAT team did a wonderful job. My ex and I were talking and I asked him if he and his fiancee had set a wedding date. He shook his head 'no', explaining that he was scared. I felt bad about that. I mean, I'm scared to get married again too but he's so young (33) and I just hope that he doesn't allow his fear to cripple him. He brought up alot of stuff that happened in our marriage, good and bad, and I was surprised that he remembered half that stuff. Like the first day we met:
Him: Yeah, it was a Saturday, September 5, 1992 -- you were wearing one of those half shirts and a pair of jeans. I saw your belly button (reflective pause) ... yeah I still remember that.
When we got married it didn't go over well with his mother. In other words, she hated the idea of her 20-year old son marrying a 28-year old, divorced woman with a child. I took it personally and always felt like she would never accept me into their family. As arrogant as I was, my attitude was "screw her -- her loss". Consequently, everytime he went home to visit, I never accompanied him. That really hurt his feelings but I thought I was justified. Why would I voluntarily put myself in an uncomfortable position with his mother? Not me!
I was wrong for that and tonight I apologized to him. He accepted.
Blessed by chele at 10:38 PM | Permalink |
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Being Busy
Thursday, February 02, 2006
You know, sometimes I feel like a huge waste of skin when I am just lying on my sofa doing nothing but mindlessly watching television.
I feel like I should be doing something. Anything.
I just never feel like I’m busy enough.
Now, I’m thinking about that thing …
I work full time.
I have two children and all their activities to deal with.
I take a dance class once a week.
I go to church.
I’m learning to play the piano.
And I’ve had time to write a couple of books.
Whew! I’m tired after just typing all that.
I’m giving myself permission to take a break on the couch. Well, after I take the kids to dinner tonight, and my facial in the morning, and then my daughter's step show tomorrow night and then church on Sunday ...
I feel like I should be doing something. Anything.
I just never feel like I’m busy enough.
Now, I’m thinking about that thing …
I work full time.
I have two children and all their activities to deal with.
I take a dance class once a week.
I go to church.
I’m learning to play the piano.
And I’ve had time to write a couple of books.
Whew! I’m tired after just typing all that.
I’m giving myself permission to take a break on the couch. Well, after I take the kids to dinner tonight, and my facial in the morning, and then my daughter's step show tomorrow night and then church on Sunday ...
Blessed by chele at 2:25 PM | Permalink |
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Blessings Abound
I got home yesterday to find this e-mail in my inbox:
i wanted to follow-up with you about adapting your submission to the book to a play. your submission was recommended for the adaptation; however, i need your release forms back in order to write the adaptation. majority of the adaptation will be excerpts of your piece.
(Note: I'm an idiot when it comes to linking, so if you want to reread my submission it was back in November and it is entitled "I Never Knew Lawrence")
The book that she is referring to is My Soul to His Spirit-Soulful Expressions from Black Daughters to Their Fathers. I submitted my poem and I was thrilled when it was accepted for publication. Now it seems that it is going to be used in an adaptation for a play!
Is that just the coolest?
The theater director has a few productions to her credit which include, "Flying West", "Black Woman's Blues", and "Weights". I don't know what this could lead to but I am so excited I can't stand myself right about now!
I think I wrote this piece back in 2001-2002 timeframe and I never thought that it would be receiving the attention that it is. Also, this piece was the inspiration for my novel Raymond's Daughters ... so, who knows?
i wanted to follow-up with you about adapting your submission to the book to a play. your submission was recommended for the adaptation; however, i need your release forms back in order to write the adaptation. majority of the adaptation will be excerpts of your piece.
(Note: I'm an idiot when it comes to linking, so if you want to reread my submission it was back in November and it is entitled "I Never Knew Lawrence")
The book that she is referring to is My Soul to His Spirit-Soulful Expressions from Black Daughters to Their Fathers. I submitted my poem and I was thrilled when it was accepted for publication. Now it seems that it is going to be used in an adaptation for a play!
Is that just the coolest?
The theater director has a few productions to her credit which include, "Flying West", "Black Woman's Blues", and "Weights". I don't know what this could lead to but I am so excited I can't stand myself right about now!
I think I wrote this piece back in 2001-2002 timeframe and I never thought that it would be receiving the attention that it is. Also, this piece was the inspiration for my novel Raymond's Daughters ... so, who knows?
Blessed by chele at 7:53 AM | Permalink |
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Breakthroughs
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Joyce had a breakthrough!
Joyce is an intelligent, successful woman who seriously has it going on. She's been involved with a guy for a few years and a few months ago she realized that he really couldn't give her what she wanted -- a long-term, committed (i.e. exclusive) relationship. She knew she had to walk away but it's difficult to walk away from a good man, who hasn't really done anything wrong he's just not right for her.
Joyce has shared her concerns with me a number of times and I just sit and listen. I understand her predicament. Joyce has actually been trying to walk away since last spring. But her problem is that she continues to send mixed signals to this guy. For example, she'll explain how she feels and clearly break up with him. But then a few days later she'll go over to his house to break him off a little something ... you know what I mean! Unfortunately, for Joyce, she thinks that the "break off" supercedes the break up ... which it doesn't. The guy still believes that they are broken up and is thrilled that he can still hit it every now and then.
Poor Joyce!
She knows she deserves better and she knows that she has to make a clean break. Well, I think she finally did it. At least, she thinks she finally did it. She told me that this past weekend she went to his house and made him a really nice dinner and broke him off one last time. She knew it was going to be the last time and it was very emotional (for her). That was Saturday. On Sunday, she said she got up and went to church and afterwards he called her to see how she was.
Joyce: I'm fine. I'm just getting in from church
Dude: Church? Why'd you go to church?
Joyce: Because I needed some strength and that is usually where I get it.
Dude: (mockingly) Oh, so you're over me now?
Joyce: I'm working on it.
My problem is that ole boy knows she's struggling. He knows that she is weak behind him but he won't help her make a clean break. Then again, why should he? It all works out for his good. Joyce has got to do this on her own. I'm cheering for her.
On Monday, she told him straight up that she was moving on. He didn't take it too well but she stood firm. On Tuesday, he suggested that she drop by ... Joyce respectfully declined! This is huge for Joyce. She told me she craves him. I think that's a little dramatic but ... whatever.
I know she has to do this thing one day at a time but today we are celebrating her breakthrough!
Joyce's situation reminds me that even though we cannot control the behavior of another person we can control how others treat us. In other words, we dictate what treatment we will receive from others by letting folks know up front what is acceptable and what is not.
Joyce's fella continues to proposition her and entice her because that is the pattern that she has established. She let him know a long time ago that it is okay to try to get her into bed even though she had proclaimed that it was over. So now, he doesn't really believe that she's serious. I'm not sure I do either, but I'm in her corner. I read the following on Jia's blog today and I thought it was quite profound: Never allow someone to be your priority, when you are merely their option.
I love this and plan to pass it on to Joyce.
(I just spoke to Joyce ... dude just called her and suggested that they go away for a weekend. Joyce, once again, respectfully declined).
Joyce is an intelligent, successful woman who seriously has it going on. She's been involved with a guy for a few years and a few months ago she realized that he really couldn't give her what she wanted -- a long-term, committed (i.e. exclusive) relationship. She knew she had to walk away but it's difficult to walk away from a good man, who hasn't really done anything wrong he's just not right for her.
Joyce has shared her concerns with me a number of times and I just sit and listen. I understand her predicament. Joyce has actually been trying to walk away since last spring. But her problem is that she continues to send mixed signals to this guy. For example, she'll explain how she feels and clearly break up with him. But then a few days later she'll go over to his house to break him off a little something ... you know what I mean! Unfortunately, for Joyce, she thinks that the "break off" supercedes the break up ... which it doesn't. The guy still believes that they are broken up and is thrilled that he can still hit it every now and then.
Poor Joyce!
She knows she deserves better and she knows that she has to make a clean break. Well, I think she finally did it. At least, she thinks she finally did it. She told me that this past weekend she went to his house and made him a really nice dinner and broke him off one last time. She knew it was going to be the last time and it was very emotional (for her). That was Saturday. On Sunday, she said she got up and went to church and afterwards he called her to see how she was.
Joyce: I'm fine. I'm just getting in from church
Dude: Church? Why'd you go to church?
Joyce: Because I needed some strength and that is usually where I get it.
Dude: (mockingly) Oh, so you're over me now?
Joyce: I'm working on it.
My problem is that ole boy knows she's struggling. He knows that she is weak behind him but he won't help her make a clean break. Then again, why should he? It all works out for his good. Joyce has got to do this on her own. I'm cheering for her.
On Monday, she told him straight up that she was moving on. He didn't take it too well but she stood firm. On Tuesday, he suggested that she drop by ... Joyce respectfully declined! This is huge for Joyce. She told me she craves him. I think that's a little dramatic but ... whatever.
I know she has to do this thing one day at a time but today we are celebrating her breakthrough!
Joyce's situation reminds me that even though we cannot control the behavior of another person we can control how others treat us. In other words, we dictate what treatment we will receive from others by letting folks know up front what is acceptable and what is not.
Joyce's fella continues to proposition her and entice her because that is the pattern that she has established. She let him know a long time ago that it is okay to try to get her into bed even though she had proclaimed that it was over. So now, he doesn't really believe that she's serious. I'm not sure I do either, but I'm in her corner. I read the following on Jia's blog today and I thought it was quite profound: Never allow someone to be your priority, when you are merely their option.
I love this and plan to pass it on to Joyce.
(I just spoke to Joyce ... dude just called her and suggested that they go away for a weekend. Joyce, once again, respectfully declined).
Blessed by chele at 8:50 AM | Permalink |
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