Everything is Everything

Detours

Monday, July 31, 2006

de·tour n.
A roundabout way or course, especially a road used temporarily instead of a main route.
A deviation from a direct course of action.

What did you want to be when you were little? Did you have dreams of what you wanted to be when you grew up? Are you currently doing what you set out to do?

I’m not.

My son wants to study criminal justice when he goes to college. He wants to be a detective. He talks about being on the S.W.A.T. team. Of course, that’s the little boy talking … you know, guns, chasing bad guys, action … I admire him for having a goal. He often says that he would like to skip the uniformed officer part and just be a detective. I don’t know enough about this profession to know if that’s possible or not. He’ll have to figure that out for himself.

I remember being sixteen and having dreams of being a teacher. Then when I turned 18 I wanted to go into social work. I wanted to help people. I wanted to save the friggin’ world. My dreams did not include me sitting in a cubicle, behind a desk and amending contracts for a company that sells tactical gear to the military.

When did it happen? When did my goals change from helping people to paying the bills? That’s my goal today in 2006: to pay my mortgage and to help my kids reach their goals.

I’m a victim of the detours: a deviation from a direct course of action.

I had plans to graduate from college and pursue a career in social work. The detour? A man. Several men. I’m not even going to sit here and perpetrate like men are the reason that I’m not doing what I set out to do. It was my fault, my choice to allow a big dick and a smile to sway me from my chosen path. I’m so weak. Or, maybe I never really had a direct course of action. Maybe I only had a rough outline of what I wanted to do which is why I was so easily swayed. I don’t know.

I have a history of adopting the interests and goals of the men that I am involved with. In the past I have put aside the things I want to do in order to be more available for the man in my life. I don’t even think they ever asked me to. I’m not pointing fingers or placing blame. We all are responsible for our own actions. And if I put my own dreams and goals on hold for a man than that was my choice. I can’t blame him.

For example, I have been writing forever. I have more journals, essays, poems and short stories in my possession that I can count. But I only got serious about publishing a few months after my husband and I separated. He was never really supportive of anything I wanted to do. He treated our relationship like a competition. I believe he was a little insecure because he was so much younger than I was. He always felt like he needed to prove to me that he was a man. I told him after our divorce that I never needed to be convinced. That was his issue. Anyway, I never wanted to compete with my husband so instead, I put my manuscripts to the side. Once we divorced I became a writing machine … a woman on a mission. Is it coincidental that I haven’t really written anything significant since the onset of my relationship with B? Which is why I’m forcing myself to work on this second novel. I have to have my own stuff!

I sing because he’s a musician but I’ve never had any goals or aspirations to be a singer. I’m a writer got-dammit! Also, the dancing … I absolutely love the dancing. I joined the dance class when he and I hit a major bump in the road last year and it turned out to be one of the best things I could have done for myself.

As women, we tend to put the needs of others before our own. It’s not a bad thing to be unselfish, but what happens when we lose ourselves in other people’s dreams? What happens when my kids have moved on and are pursuing their dreams and I’m left alone to try and remember the things I wanted to do?

There has to be a balance. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. To that end, I’ve decided to cut back on the singing and I’ve joined a writer’s group that meets once a month. In order to stay motivated to do what I want to do I have to surround myself with those motivators. I’ve got to stay on the direct course and stay away from the detours.

Blessed by chele at 8:54 PM

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A Year at the Plant (ation)

Friday, July 28, 2006

I’ve been at this job for exactly one year. Here are the top 10 things I’ve learned since I've been here:

10. I’ve learned the meaning of autonomy and I like it.

9. As long as I do my work no one really cares if I’m late or if I leave early.

8. Patience pays off

7. It’s good to be considered the “expert” in a certain area

6. White folks sure can drink and don’t mind doing it in the office on Friday afternoons beginning at 3:00 p.m.

5. Some people really do need to be held to a dress code

4. Cube living is tolerable

3. I don’t miss being micro-managed

2. I’d rather work for a man than for a woman

... and the number one thing I've learned while working on the plantation:

1. Everything is not a friggin' emergency … I’ll get to it.

Have a great weekend ya'll!

Blessed by chele at 3:58 PM

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Horoscope

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Libra
September 23 to October 22

Love: Evaluate a potential mate on merit not on the personality flaws of former companions. Work: Postpone that much-needed change of scenery. Besides, who else can be the peacemaker? Money: Distance yourself from the Joneses, and use research and prudence to make financial decisions. Inspiration: Love with your heart, not your mind.

I don't know why I bother reading my horoscope. Entertainment, I guess. Sometimes it makes me stop and think. Other times I just turn the page. Today I turned the page. Then I turned it back.

Potential mate? There are no, nor will there be any potential mates. Although I will say that this is good advice. Advice that I have never been able to follow. I've evaluated every new man based on the screw ups of the old men. That's pitiful but I can't help it. The first time I opened myself up for real ... I ended up marrying a man that already had a wife. I stopped trusting my own judgment. After the crap I went through with hubby #2 I vowed never again to date a guy with kids. Well, B has no kids and supposedly didn't want any ... at first. He used to give me this moony-eyed look all the time and say, "We'd have the most beautiful kids." Yeah, we would but we're not gonna.

Much needed change of scenery? I love my job and don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon.

I like the money advice. I do not need another pair of sandals this season. Or another bag. With a son going to college (hopefully) in the next two years and a daughter soon to follow, I have some serious decisions to make. Are the investments I've made so far enough? Maybe not.

Loving with my heart and not my mind. I wish I could do this. I wish I could do this. I don't have that bright eyed optimism and I don't know if I've ever had it. I'd love to be able to follow my heart and just love without fear. It's exhausting thinking about love all the time.

Other news:

My son hates his job and I really feel sorry for him. His day starts at 4:00 a.m. and he doesn't return home until after I do. In his words, "It sucks, Mom!" On one hand, I'm glad that he's getting this experience. He took this job because it was an easy hook up through his best friend's mother. Well, he's learning that the "hook up" ain't always what it's cracked up to be. On the other hand, he's my baby and I hate to see him unhappy. It's only for a few more weeks until school starts than he can find something closer to the house. He'll be alright.

Novel news: I've reached 18,862 words and I think I'm on track to have the first draft done by my b-day. Yay me!

I've got to get a DVR because my show is moving to Thursday night and that's the night of my dance class.

My new favorite song: The Heart of the Matter. I heard it for the first time on India.Arie's new CD. To my surprise, this song was first made popular by these guys like 30-some years ago. I like both versions and can be caught singing it at the top of my lungs all through the house. We also plan to add it to our set list.

Okay ... I'm out.

Blessed by chele at 7:15 PM

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Gooey = Love?

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

I’m not sure how this is going to turn out because I’m not in the best of moods. It’s raining and everyone is just getting on my nerves. So, I’m talking to a long time male friend of mine this morning and he says:

So how’s everything going with ole boy?

Aiight.

Humph. That’s what I thought

What’s that supposed to mean?

He ain’t the one. You ain’t in love.

Excuse me?

Yeah, you’d have that tone in your voice if he was the one.

Tone? WTH?

First of all, I am not going to take this time to defend my relationship. I know what I have.

I will say this though. My friend, sweet as he is, is extremely chauvinistic and truly believes there are only two places for women. The kitchen and the bedroom, Florida. The kitchen and the bedroom! (Good Times, 1974). He is mistakenly under the impression that unless a woman is fawning over a man, sighing heavily, getting butterflies in her stomach and proclaiming that he is her soul mate than she is not in love.

What’s funny to me is that for as long as he has known me I have never been that chick. Admittedly, I was that chick in high school and I was probably that chick in college … and even than I have never used the term “soul mate” to describe a guy that I was with. I just don’t believe in that ish.

I’ve been called jaded. I’ve been called cold. I’ve been called a heartless bitch.

Call me what you wanna call me but I make no apologies for not getting all gooey when I talk about B. I give him his props. I’m not that good at the ego stroke but I do the best I can to let him know how I feel about him. I don’t feel obligated to convince my friend.

Remember when Janet and Rene got divorced and no one even knew they were married? I remember Janet being criticized because she kept her marriage a secret. Folks were saying that the relationship must not have been all that if they kept it a secret. Maybe they just didn’t want a whole lotta folks all up in their business. Not everyone is yucky and creepy like Tom and Katie.

I can relate.

I ain’t Janet and B ain’t Rene but can’t we just have what we have and keep it between us?

Blessed by chele at 3:31 PM

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Flashing Lights

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Saturday, July 22, 2006 1:45 a.m.

License and registration.

Here you go.

Yes ma'am my name is Officer Fife (not his real name) of the Chesapeake Police Department. The reason why I stopped you is because when you drove past me while I was at my last traffic stop I checked your speed with radar and you were doing 9 miles over the speed limit. Then when I turned around and caught up to you, you were driving right on top of the white dotted lines. Any reason why you would be driving like that?

(shrugs) I guess because it's late and I'm not that familiar with the area.

(looks at license again) Where ya headed?

Virginia Beach

Where ya coming from?

AJ Gators

Hmmmm. How much have you had to drank tonight, ma'am.

I haven't had anything to drink.

Nothing at all?

No. I was working at Gator's. I sing there.

Hmmmm. You sang good?

I guess so.

Well, you must if they're paying you to come in there and sang.

I guess.

(hands me back the license and registration) Please drive carefully ma'am

Yes sir

As I drove off I watched from my rear view mirror as he pulled someone else over. I'm not even going to tell you how the scene from the movie Crash flashed through my head as I pulled my car over. Let's just say that I was more than a little scared. And I'm grateful that it didn't escalate into anything crazy. It sucks that those flashing lights and those uniforms automatically instill fear in my heart ... even when I haven't done anything wrong.

Anyway, that was how the night ended. It started with the gig at Gator's. Typical crowd for a Friday night. Subdued and unwinding after the work week. Oh yeah, and drunk. The majority of the crowd were too busy watching television to really pay any attention to us. That was cool with me. We usually classify a night like that as "paid rehearsal".

There was one man though who paid very close attention to us. Every time we started a song this guy was on his feet and dancing. He was about three feet away from me and just dancing. I don't mean a subtle two-step. I mean this cat was moving. Every part of his body was involved in the dance. The guy was about 5'5", with a Denny Terio hairdo, beer belly, man-capris, dirty tennis shoes and white ankle socks. He was moving his hands and his hips and his feet all to the beat of the music. He had some rhythm so he didn't look completely foolish -- well not to me. But to a room full of non-dancing white folks he looked pretty foolish. Besides the fact that Gator's doesn't really have a dance floor. He just picked out a spot in front of us and started moving.

Good times.

Blessed by chele at 8:05 AM

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Control

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Ephesians 5:22 - Wives, be subject (be submissive and adapt yourselves) to your own husbands as [a service] to the Lord.

Does this bug you? It used to bug the crap out of me.

I’m no longer a wife but I am a Christian. I’m not a Bible scholar nor do I claim to do everything that the Bible says but I am mindful of what the Word says and I do my best to comply.

I don’t steal or kill. I don’t bear false witness against my neighbor. I wait on the Lord because I believe it will renew my strength. I believe that all things work together for good for those that love God and are called according to his purpose. I believe that my present struggles cannot be compared to the future glory that shall be revealed through Christ Jesus.

I believe all this.

I know that it is not my place to pick and choose which scriptures I will abide by or believe in. As a Christian it’s my responsibility to believe the Word and live by the Word. I know. I get it.

But I’m human and my flesh used to crawl whenever my former Pastor (RIP) would quote the above scripture with a certain smugness that made me think that he was secretly winking and elbowing the deacons and saying “I’ll get ‘em with this one.” After all, “good” Christian women did not have an issue with submitting to their husbands. I was never considered a “good” Christian woman. After all, I did divorce my husband. While the good Christian women stayed with the men that despitefully used them, stayed out all night, gambling away the rent money, entertaining women of ill repute and not taking care of their children. These women were martyred and put up on a pedestal while I was chastised for standing up for myself.

Do I sound bitter? Probably. Sorry, that’s not what this post was supposed to be about because honestly, now in 2006 I don’t have a problem with that scripture. I know what you’re saying: “You don’t have a problem with it because you ain’t got a husband!” I know that’s what you’re saying! You ain’t gotta lie, Craig!”(Friday, 1995)

Seriously, I may not have a husband anymore but as I’ve gotten older I am no longer intimidated by the word “submit”. Back in the day, that word was taboo and it used to piss me off because it seemed that was the only scripture my husband knew and he took every opportunity to throw it in my face. Trying to make me feel guilty because I called myself a Christian but I wouldn’t submit to him. Screw him.

He used that word to try to control me and I am not the type to be controlled. I’m a self-proclaimed control freak. We fought over control constantly. Unfortunately, he was fighting a losing battle and subsequently he sought out areas (outside our marriage) where he could be in control.

Submission does not have to be a negative thing. It does not have to be a tool with which to control someone else. You have to be mature enough to know that you are not always right. Actually, I have to be mature enough to know that I am not always right. Sometimes I have to compromise. And sometimes I’ll just have to give in. As I’ve said (repeatedly) I am not married but I think marriage can be viewed as a business of sorts. Someone has to have controlling interest in that marriage. You may think it’s 50-50 but it really isn’t. If you reach an impasse someone has to make the decision and I believe the above scripture is saying that it’s the man’s duty to do that and it’s the woman’s duty to submit to her husband’s decision.

You have no idea how difficult it was for me to write that last sentence.

So what’s the point? My point is that in my attempt to not be controlled by my husband I allowed my fear of the word “submit” to control me. Does that make sense? I’m on a quest to not be so controlling. It’s driving those around me crazy. I need to take a breath and realize that I’m not always right. There is room for the opinions of others. Everything does not have to be done on my time schedule.

Whether you know it or not, a lot of you have really helped me to recognize different opinions and different ideas. Everyone doesn’t always agree with me but you do it in a way that I can receive and I don’t automatically put up my defenses and shut down.

And for that, I thank you.

Blessed by chele at 11:18 AM

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Good News

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

From : My Sister in Baltimore
Sent : Tuesday, July 18, 2006 5:12 PM
To : chele
Subject : Good news!

Hey darling. I was down at the public library today, searching for some new books to read when, lo and behold, what do I see but "Raymond's Daughters" by someone named Michele Matthews! So you know I had to run around telling everyone I knew that the author was my sissiepooh. There are currently 24 copies in circulation. I'm so happy because after I got the copy that I had ordered, I donated it to the library since I had the one you gave me, and my supervisor at the time (yeah, I used to work for the library) was giving me a hard time about it when I asked if the library would order some more copies. That was awhile ago, but look how good God is. I'll see if I can talk some people into getting copies of your second book on the shelves, or even having you come for a book signing, if it's okay with you. Once again, congratufatulations!!!!!!!!!!

Love ya!

So for all you folks in the Baltimore area, why don't you mosey on down to the public library and check out my book!

Blessed by chele at 6:29 PM

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Can You Miss Someone You Don't Know?

Monday, July 17, 2006

Yes, one of 15. Don’t be confused I didn’t discover 14 siblings over the weekend. The total tally is 15. I was able to meet one brother and one sister over the weekend.

I found out that my biological father had one child right out of high school, 5 children in his first marriage, 1 child in his second marriage and of course, me.

They say I’m the female version of him. I can’t explain it but that makes me terribly sad. I left Atlanta wanting to know more about him and for the first time missing the father that I never knew.

For years I attributed my different personality traits to my mother. I guess because I didn’t know any better. Over the weekend I discovered that my issues with privacy come from my father (e.g., no one even knew about me until a couple years ago; and no one knew he was terminally ill until the very end). My brother has the same “to hell with ‘em” attitude that I have – ready to cut someone off at the drop of a hat. He lectured me about not trying to control uncontrollable situations. I’ve given that same lecture to my kids.

It was weird. The activities of the weekend were nothing spectacular. I got to visit a new city. We had a reception designed to meet and greet. We did some shopping and then ended the weekend with a banquet. The best part of the weekend was the one-on-one conversations I was able to have with different members of the family. My uncle told the story of how he had come home on leave from the Air Force about 40 years ago. His brother (my father) told him to come take a ride with him. They got in the car and drove about 15 miles in circles only to end up at a house that was just a few blocks from his own house. They walked in the door and my uncle sat on the couch and watched as his brother sat on the floor and played with a baby girl. No one in the room explained the relationship to my uncle. He could tell who I was but it was never confirmed until after my father died.

The kids had a great time and they think hotel living is the best thing ever invented. The boys shared a room, hooked up the PS2 and played games until they were called down for the different activities. My daughter lived in the pool. We stopped in High Point, NC on the way and these pics were taken there.

It was a good weekend. I’m glad that I went and I’m making plans to attend next year in Philly. I’m also going to make an effort to stay in regular contact with my family.

Blessed by chele at 6:40 PM

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Home Again

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Hey!

I wanted to respond to all your comments on "I Don't Have the Fever" but I was out of town ... family reunion in the ATL.

Remember how I was kinda anxious about meeting all these people? You know, because I was the kid born from the "outside relationship". Well there was no drama at all. I thought I would be walking into a situation where everyone knew each other and I would be the outsider (again). Not so! None of them knew each other ... it's a long story.

Anyway, I got to meet one of my brothers and one of my sisters. Can you imagine being 41 and meeting your siblings for the first time? Well, all my life I thought I was one of seven children. As it turns out I'm one of 14 children! Fourteen! Seven brothers and seven sisters. One is deceased and there are three that I still haven't met.

There's a lot to report but I'm tired from the drive. I'll update again tomorrow with pics and details.

Blessed by chele at 11:24 PM

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I Don't Have the Fever

Thursday, July 13, 2006

I was inspired by Mary’s post about having baby fever. Before I get started let me just say this: I don’t have it.

But the post got me to thinking about when I did have it and all the different stages us gals go through when it comes to our kids.

I clearly remember being seventeen years old and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wanted to be a mother. I don’t know what I was going through at the time but I was in my bedroom, that I shared with my fourteen year old sister, and I was lying on the bed and thoughts of motherhood came into my head. It was weird but that was when I knew that I wanted to be a mother one day. Thankfully, I had enough sense not to do anything about it at the time. Unlike some young ladies who don’t realize that they have their whole lives ahead of them and believe that pregnancy is the next step after high school graduation. ** stepping off the soap box**

When I was nineteen I partied my way right out of college and wound up back at my mother’s house. (Guess I didn’t have that much sense, after all!) I had a conversation with my mom, which ended up being quite prophetic. I told my mother, “I want to be a mother but I don’t necessarily want a husband.” My mother was dumbfounded and I knew that she wanted to beat the hell out of me for saying something so stupid. She did go off on me though. Telling me how stupid that was and did I plan to go out and get pregnant, blah blah blah. She was scared. I was just making conversation. Sheesh!

At 25, I married the first of two completely unsuitable men and at 26 I had the first of two absolutely wonderful children. Isn’t it strange how a complete SOB could produce a perfect child? The marriage was over before I gave birth. I absolutely fell in love with my son. You don’t hear me … I fell in love with this little person. He was perfect and my every move depended on him. I didn’t leave the house (except to work) for four months after he was born because I just needed to be with him. A friend finally dragged me out telling me that what I needed was some adult company.

At 28, I met and married the second unsuitable man/child and at 30 I had my second child. I didn’t have baby fever but I knew that he was going to want a child of his own. Initially, I was hesitant. I asked myself, “How can I possibly love another child?” When I got pregnant I actually felt guilty because I didn’t want my son’s space to be disturbed. He was (and is) the prince … the golden child.

Then the princess arrived. All questions of how I could love another child went right out the window. I saw that little girl and once again my life changed. She was a different baby. More demanding than my son and I joke about how she held me captive for 15 months because she refused to stop nursing. I didn’t realize that I should have been in control of that situation. Oh well.

After my second child I knew I was done. I knew I didn’t want to have anymore children. I was just as sure about this as I was about wanting to be a mother in the first place. Since my husband refused to have a vasectomy (he was hoping we would have one more but he already had two other children from a previous relationship and quite frankly we couldn’t afford anymore kids), I decided to have my tubes tied.

There was a short period of time after my daughter started walking that I got those familiar yearnings for another baby. I got a kitten instead and soon I was cured of the baby fever.

I divorced for the second time and the conversation that I had with my mother so many years ago seemed to have manifested itself.

I don’t gush anymore when I see babies. Yeah, they smell good. But they don’t smell good all the time. Cleaning up someone else’s feces is not my idea of a good time. Big, swollen leaking nipples is not a good look. Sleep deprivation causes dark circles under the eyes. Thank God I’m not there anymore. God bless those of you who are there or who are looking forward to being there. (Hey Koolbreeze and ShellyP!) It's just not me.

My kids are 16 and 11 and I absolutely love the stage that we/they are in right now. No more daycare. No more fretting over what they will do in the summer. No more wondering if I remembered the diaper bag. Of course I have other things to look forward to: driver’s permits, first dates, proms, higher education, etc.

So many stages and I have enjoyed all of them. Some more than others. I’m looking forward to what they have in store for me.

Blessed by chele at 2:36 PM

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Potpourri - A Miscellaneous Collection

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

overused word: amazing (i.e, those shoes are amazing, this soup is amazing, I love your hair ... it's amazing!) Becky, please ...

scenario: you have been married for a number of years. one day you receive a mysterious looking package in the mail. your spouse's lover has sent you a dvd of the two of them having sex. how do you respond?

I have reached 15,459 words on my novel. I have set a goal to be finished with the first draft by my birthday ... in three months. I want to add another book cover to this page, man!

I was sick of Co.lin Fa.rr.el three years ago. I'm also quickly tiring of Ja.mie F.ox.x -- I will not be standing in line to see Miami Vice. Can you say "overexposure"? Something tells me that I won't be the only one who passes on this one.

I'm getting anxious about the family reunion. I don't know why. I'm looking forward to meeting my brother for the very first time. We've spoken on the phone several times and I'm finally going to see him face to face. I'm going to take a bunch of pictures of all my newfound family members and post them for you guys to see.

My younger sister is a grandmother. So is my closest (female) friend. Of course, they were both mothers before me too ... I am not in any hurry to follow in their footsteps. I'm too cute to be somebody's grandmother.

B looked into my eyes tonight and said, "Do you know how much I love you?" I said, "How much?" Then he rolled his eyes and called me a smart ass. LOL

Life really is a journey. Surpringly, the older I get the more I look forward to what's coming up. In my twenties, I actually thought I was living. I was so foolish back then. I lived day to day without one single thought about consequences. I thought I had it together. I was lost. Once I reached my thirties, I began to pay for all the crap I did in my twenties. I think was depressed for eight years. I don't know, it's all a blur now. In my thirties, survival was my goal. I just wanted to make it to the next day. Now, in my forties ... **deep exhale** I know that I have survived the foolishness of my twenties and the drama of my thirties and now I'm living. I always said that I wouldn't become a real woman until I turned 40. I feel whole. I feel complete.

I feel like I'm rambling so I'm going to bed.

Blessed by chele at 10:29 PM

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Monday, July 10, 2006

Do we really want our children to be better off than we are? Is it our responsibility to make sure that they do better, or just as well as we do?

I thought about this over the weekend when I bought my son’s cell phone. A Mo.t.orola Ra.zr. Ain’t it purty? His phone is better than mine. Honestly, if I had a problem with it, I wouldn’t have bought it. It just made me think. I promised him a phone for his birthday because with his 16th birthday he’ll be getting a job and helping to pay the bill. In addition, the older he gets the more time he spends out of the house and I need to be able to get in touch with him … at all times!

Anyway, back to the subject at hand: is it the parent’s responsibility to ensure their child’s future financial success?

According to War.ren Bu.ff.ett:

"It's dumb to let possessions rule you". He's said his children won't inherit any great wealth when he dies. "There's no reason why future generations of little Buffetts should command society just because they came from the right womb. Where's the justice in that?"

Of course it’s easier to make the point when you’re dealing with the third wealthiest man in the world. I agree with him. I guess he figures that since he worked to make his fortune his kids should do the same. I’m sure they’ll get a little something when he dies but not enough to retire off. I’ve also heard him say, “I want to leave my children enough money to help them do something, but not so much that they don’t have to do anything.”

If nothing else, he has definitely ensured that his children won’t murder him for the money.

Is it smart? Is it selfish?

What great favor are you doing for your child if you put them in a position where they never have to work for anything? Personally, I feel like the sooner my kids enter the workforce the better. No one lives for free. Of course, if I can prevent them from making the same financial mistakes that I made than I will. I don’t want them to struggle. I’ll encourage them to stay in school and try to find a career that will pay them to do something that they love. Instead of dropping out of college and just working a 9-5 in order to pay the bills. I love my job but it’s definitely not my dream job.

I want to give the kids the tools that they need to enable them to do better than I did. Now, what they do with those tools is on them. I can’t remember where I heard this but it’s been said that if you give a man a fish, then you feed him for one day. But if you give him a fishing pole and teach him how to use it, you’ve essentially fed him for the rest of his life.

I’ve said this before but I think it’s worth repeating: I’ve worked since age 15 and contributed to my parent’s household with every paycheck. Not because they needed it, but because they wanted to teach me something: No one lives for free. With a paycheck comes responsibility. It was probably the best lesson that my parent’s ever taught me.

Blessed by chele at 2:59 PM

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Seriously?

Sunday, July 09, 2006

For whatever reason we have all decided to come here and express ourselves in various ways. Some write poetry. Some tell about their daily activities or current events. Some talk about their jobs and others talk about their relationships. I don't have an agenda ... I just write whatever is in my head on that particular day.

There is an unlimited array of topics out there and it never ceases to amaze me that we all manage to talk about something different. Even if we're talking about the same things, we manage to put our own signature spin on it.

It's fun.

Some of us come and tell the truth--literally pouring out our hearts. Others create a different persona and write through the eyes of someone else. Either way, it's entertaining and again, it's fun. My favorites keep me entertained for hours and I always manage to find someone new who peaks my interest.

At one time or another I have been guilty of taking it all too seriously. I had to pump my breaks and get a grip. One blogger wrote a poem about the love a black man has for a white woman. The tone kind of made me feel like he was personally attacking me and I was offended. (seriously?) I don't know if it was about his real life or not but even if it was ... why should it bother me? Once I took myself out of the equation I could appreciate what he wrote. Did I ever mention that I was a little self-centered?

I was checking out the comments on another blogger's page and an anonymous commenter berated the blogger and told them that they should be in therapy. (seriously?) First of all, anonymous commenters are not my favorite. Let me say, I have commented anonymously when I wanted to reveal something really embarrassing ... but never to tell someone about themselves. If I feel a negative or harsh comment coming either I'll keep it to myself or I'll be woman enough to sign my name to it. I'm not referring to opposing opinions. I don't expect everyone to agree with me all the time. How boring would that be? I'm talking about those folk who sit back and judge and make you feel like garbage for expressing yourself.

You know what I'm talking about. Stuff like that just bugs me.

Seriously.

Blessed by chele at 10:22 PM

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When They Say You Can't

Friday, July 07, 2006

What is your reaction when someone tells you that you can’t do something? In many cases, these people are usually well-intentioned and don’t mean to dash your hopes and dreams but all too many times that is exactly what they do.

Or they are mean spirited haters who just want to purposely rain on your parade. These are the folks who are just so scared to ever leave their own comfort zone that the thought of you doing something daring or courageous is somehow threatening.

Then there are those that don’t say a word. They don’t say anything discouraging but you can tell by their reaction that they think you are crazy for attempting what you are attempting.

Back in 2001 I began writing a novel. I was in the middle of a very painful divorce and I needed something to occupy my mind. I had been writing little articles and poems and things and my best friend, who had read every word I had ever written said, “You know what? I can really see all this in a book.” That was how it started.

I didn’t know what the result would be when I started. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I had a story to tell and I had to tell it. I never considered to whom I’d be telling the story. It didn’t matter then because all I wanted to do was write.

Now, I hope the “real” writers don’t get offended. I mean, isn’t it every writer’s dream to be on somebody’s best seller list? To sell millions of copies? That was never my goal or my intention. I won’t be quitting my day job in order to write. Not because I don’t think I can, but because that’s not my goal. It’s that simple. Of course, I didn’t know that wasn’t my goal at the time. Once the novel was complete I took the traditional route of getting an agent and having her pound the pavement, peddling my manuscript trying to garner interest from a publishing house.

Little did I know, she wasn’t pounding anything. I was one of many authors that she represented and although she may have thought I had written a good story she didn’t have a vested interest in my project. It wasn’t as important to her as it was to me. She couldn’t convince a publisher of how relevant my story was because she didn’t believe in the project the way I did. Publishers are in the business to make money. Period. I didn’t have a money-making track record so they decided to pass on my story. They all decided to pass.

This morning I pulled out my stack of rejection letters from 2001/2002. They all basically said the same thing and after the first couple I really became numb to the rejection.

That was when I reevaluated what my actual goals were:

*I wanted to see my novel published.
*I wanted to leave something tangible behind that said I was here.
*I wanted to do something that would make my children proud.
*I also wanted at least one person that I did not know to read my story and tell me that it touched them in some way.

That was when I made the decision to publish the book myself. I couldn’t let the rejection stop me from reaching my goals. I had to do this for me. Finally, in September 2004 I received my first copy of Raymond’s Daughters and I cannot even begin to tell you how it feels to accomplish something that no one thought you could accomplish. During this entire process the only person who consistently stayed in my corner and encouraged me was my best friend who planted the seed in my head in the first place. He assisted me with the editing, actually gave me the name of the book and once it was completed he BOUGHT ten copies and gave them as gifts to people. I later received an e-mail from one of the recipients and she explained why the story struck a chord with her.

There were those who stood on the sidelines with their arms folded in disbelief. There were others who said (and still say) “You wrote a book?” as if it would be incomprehensible that I could put two sentences together let alone an entire novel. There are even those who make it their mission to point out, “She self-published because no one else wanted it.” **shrugs** Maybe not.

Regardless of those people that continually try to keep my spirit down I’m proud of the fact that I reached the goals that I set. I’ve learned how important it is to always keep my eyes on the prize (so to speak). I know how important it is not to be deterred from what I set out to do. People will talk. People will always talk. I’ve learned to consider the source and keep on stepping.

Blessed by chele at 10:54 AM

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Integrity

Thursday, July 06, 2006

I hope I’m overreacting. I tend to do that.

This morning this dude in another department calls me and asks if I received such-and-such e-mail from such-and-such (someone outside the company).

Me: No, I didn’t get it.
Him: It’s addressed to both of us.
Me: Well, I didn’t get it.
Him: Okay, when you do get it call me so we can discuss it.
Me: Okay.

About 15 minutes go by and I still don’t have the e-mail. I have to go to this dude’s side of the building to scan something so I drop by his cube to find out what the deal is with the e-mail.

Him: Good morning, chele. What’re you doing in this neck of the woods?
Me: I never got the e-mail. What was the problem?
(He opens the e-mail and I look over his shoulder and read it.)
Me: Oh … this was taken care of back in November. Why don’t you forward it to me and I’ll respond. Looks like they had an incorrect e-mail address for me.
Him: Okay …I’ll send it over to you now. I’m surprised at your concern.
Me: What do you mean, you’re surprised?
Him: I mean you came all the way over here to check on it and everything.
Me: What was I supposed to do? You brought it to my attention and I wanted to follow up.
Him: No … I just mean that your diligence surprised me.
Me: (with the WTF look on my face) Damn ... it surprised you that I’m doing my job?

Then I walked away. That whole thing just rubbed me the wrong way. It makes me think that I’m perceived in a certain way. A negative way. I don’t know what he heard but I have more integrity in my little finger than he has in his whole big, fat, tobacco-chewing, red neck body. That ish really pisses me off.

********

So now B is all mopey because I haven’t invited him to accompany me to my family reunion next weekend in Atlanta. I can’t please anybody! I finally told him today that I just don’t feel like playing referee between him and the kids all weekend.

Him: Referee?
Me: Yes. When you guys are together you barely even speak to each other. So I’ll have to spend the whole weekend making sure that I give you enough attention and give them enough attention without anyone feeling slighted. It’s tiring and I don’t want to do it. But if you’re going to be walking around with hurt feelings than go ahead and cancel your gigs for that weekend and come on. By all means just come on!
Him: Nevermind. I don’t want you to play referee. I’ll talk to you later.

Damn. Now I feel bad.

Blessed by chele at 12:17 PM

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Loooooong Weekends

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

You know what? It just doesn’t matters how long the weekend is I will never tire of sleeping late. Unfortunately, it all ends tomorrow but I made the most of this 5-day weekend.

Friday: After spending the majority of the day at the optometrist – both my son (J) and I had appointments – I left work early to get a jump on the weekend. K (my daughter) was still at camp so I took J to dinner at Red Robin. I like spending one on one time with my kids. It gives me a chance to get into their heads separately. Sometimes they want me there ... most of the time they don’t.

After dinner, J and I drove out to Borders to check out Marcus Harris where he read selections from his book Songs in Search of a Voice. Marcus is a very talented poet and a heckuva nice guy – he took some time to pose for a picture with J (Marcus is on the right).

I believe he sold out of books that night. I snagged one copy for myself and after the reading, my son also requested a copy … along with his two graphic novels.

Saturday: I got up bright and early on Saturday so I could pick up K from her weeklong adventure at camp. I was glad to see her and she was glad to be going home. Not sure if she’ll repeat the adventure next year or not. I was not happy about the fact that she spent so much time in the pool that her beautifully braided hair had to be (almost) completely redone. I don’t think she realizes how much it costs to get it done! I was pissed about the money but she was pissed about having to go back to the salon and sit in the chair for four hours. Oh well.

I wanted to hang out at the house on Saturday because it was my baby’s first day home. Well, she spent most of the day in her room napping and watching television. By about 7:00 p.m. I was going stir crazy so I called B and asked him if he wanted to get a drink. Which we did.

Sunday: I lounged around the house in the morning and then I dropped K off at the salon and I headed out to the mall. My family reunion is coming up and I needed a few decent outfits for the trip so I went shopping. In addition I needed to pick up some luggage. It’s not often that me and the kids travel long distances together (is that weird?) so I don’t have a full set of luggage. I do now.

Later that evening B came by and we worked on some music. I cooked dinner, which the children didn’t eat and I watched reruns of Desperate and Grey’s.

Monday: My anniversary! Three years with B. I find it ironic (is it irony?) that if I had stayed married (the second time) I would have celebrated my 13th wedding anniversary on this day.

Here’s what I got as a gift.

I love the bag but I already have this pattern. I wanted something lighter for the summer, so I’m going to exchange it for this one:

I was surprised when he presented me with the bag … after all he just paid to get my car fixed and I thought that was gift enough. I guess he didn’t. We also went to dinner at this Japanese steak house. It was my first experience with the hibachi cooking and the food flying everywhere. The food was good and we had a nice time.

Which brings us to today. I don’t know what I’m going to do today. Maybe some laundry. Maybe the beach. I may venture out and find some fireworks to watch.

Hope ya’ll had a great weekend!

Blessed by chele at 8:49 AM

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Reciprocity

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Pain is unavoidable. Trust me on this one, I’ve tried to avoid it for many years and in some instances I’ve come close to succeeding but somehow it finds me. I’m sitting here now trying to figure out the reason or the purpose for pain. Why is it necessary for human beings to experience pain?

Physically speaking, the experts say that pain is necessary to alert us that something is wrong. How else would you know you were having a heart attack if you didn’t have the pain in your chest? How would you know that you needed a cavity filled unless you felt the pain in your mouth? How would you know that you slammed your finger in the car door if ... well you know what I'm saying. Pain, apparently, is necessary.

I think about this concept now and I’m taken back sixteen years to when I was in labor with my son. I remember the nurse telling me, “You don’t have to be in pain.” Clearly, she had never read Genesis 3:16. She wanted to make me more comfortable. She offered up the drugs and I valiantly refused them. Not because I was trying to be strong or anything … it just wasn’t that bad. That delivery was by no means painless but it was bearable. So much so that I decided to get pregnant again four years later. The pain ripped me in half the second time around. That’s what I get for being so daggone valiant.

Necessary?

Does emotional pain serve the same purpose? To alert us that something is wrong? Or is there a different purpose for it. I haven’t figured that out yet. Why in so many situations does pain accompany love? I thought that love wasn’t supposed to hurt but in so many instances it does.

Now, I am not going to bore with you with the details of the many instances of how love has let me down. Suffice it say … I’ve been let down and I've let people down. And it is because of these experiences that I’ve decided to steer clear of the love-pain connection. After all, we choose to love who we love. A lot of folk don’t believe that but we actually do make a decision to love who we love. It may be in the heat of passion and there may be alcohol involved but we still decide. Normally, the pain follows when that love is not reciprocated. When we give more than we get.

Have you ever felt that you loved someone more than they loved you? Not because they don’t meet our expectations or aren’t doing what we want. I mean when someone you love deliberately does something to hurt you and you are taken aback because hurting them has never even crossed your mind.

Check this out:

I see love as a gift to give
Not to receive
No longer is love an object to gain
But something to give away
The more I gave
The better I felt
Because
Now I have
The capacity to love

This is an excerpt from a poem entitled Capacity to Love and it’s included in my second book, Confessions of a Beautiful Woman. When I wrote that I meant it. I meant it with everything that was in me. I won’t go into the details but baby I was wide open. Wrong place, wrong time.

The truth is love should be something that is freely given without any expectations. However, I believe that continuous giving without a hint of reciprocity will wear on even the most loving person.

I’ve learned to ration out the love that I give in order to prevent the hurt. It may be working. I may have prevented some pain but I may have also missed out on some good things because I was afraid to love. **shrugs** Small sacrifice. I build my walls and keep everyone at a certain distance.

But how do you keep your family at a distance?
I can’t ration out love to the people that share my bloodline.
That love is strong and it is unconditional.
It’s also the most painful.

Necessary?

Blessed by chele at 12:24 AM

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