Saturday, November 30, 2013

The Quest for God

Its not a secret that I'm not a Christian. I don't even know if I even believe in God. I'ts worked for me in a way. Sometimes I wonder if God is real, other times I find my back against the wall and I can almost feel the hands of Someone Else doing things that I certainly could not do. Those are the days that I know that there is a higher power up there that loves me and wants to make sure that I'm well. But then there are days that I look around and I see downtrodden people that suffer and I think that there is no way that a God that supposedly loves and takes care of us all could exist, because why would God take care of me and not others? I'm not some kind of deity or special person worthy of such favors, yet I am consistently covered when I need it.

In the meantime, I'd learned to lean on Buddhism as my solace. I like the concept of Buddhism because its not about others, its about ME. It teaches me how to deal with others and how to work on myself so that I can be a better person and deal with the world. The problem with Christianity for me is that so much of it is based on blind faith. I've tried my hardest, but I can't make sense of it. In the absence of a concrete God, Buddhism taught me how to alter my perspective and be all right with the world. Buddhism was there for me when I had no where else to go. Buddhism showed me that half empty or half full, the glass doesn't matter because its just matter. The glass is just a shiny object that will eventually decay anyway (Impermanence) so why focus on it anyway? It just is.

Once during a meditation session, I came to an epiphany that there is no good or bad, there just is. Meaning that we assign labels of Good or Bad to things and from there deal accordingly. For instance, if someone loses their job and then has a fit, having a fit won't bring the job back. However, if you accept it for what it is and move forward to find a new job, or just take it as a sign to find a new direction in life, the better off you'll be. Some may not be able to relate to that, but for me to be as anxious and nervous as I am, I need it. I'm the kind of person that constantly seeks answers. I need to know why? Why do children die? Why do people suffer from broken hearts? Why do some people have and not others? Why did Jarronn and Tracey die on me? I need answers. And the Bible never provided them. I don't want to hear shit about them being needed in heaven. Jesus may work for some. But it left me feeling abandoned and frustrated and confused. So I turned to Buddhism and Myself.

I'd made peace with the absence of God in my life, until I met Love. He's a minister, who carries himself as one. He's so smart and despite me being filled with millions of questions about God and religion, he can honestly pull out a Bible verse to answer my question. There will be times that I'm at his home and I'll see a random Bible scripture laying around and I'll find that it totally relates to me. Normally when that happens, I'll ask him about it and we can have a conversation about how it relates to our lives. I dunno, maybe Love is right about there being a God. But then I come to this whole Jesus thing and that's where my doubt really lies. As much as I adore Love, and want to be with him in every way, the Jesus/Bible thing throws me. While some think that every word of the Bible is true, I think that some of it is metaphorical. I doubt the whole "burning bush" "Noah's arc" "water into wine" stuff. I just can't see it.

Sure, I can see the potential of a higher power, but I can't necessarily see the rest of the story the way others do. Maybe something is wrong with me. If it brings me closer to Love, I want to believe it. But I don't want to submit to something I don't agree to, just to be accepted. Nor would Love want me to lie to him or myself about it. So I'm stuck. I still don't know if I believe in God. And that's okay. Hopefully, I have plenty of time to figure it out.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Side Chick to Main Chick

Its come up in convo for me quite a few times how I'm happily coupled up with an incredible man and the personal and spiritual transitions I had to make to make me ready to receive him and love him the way I need to. Love and I had a conversation recently where he said that Steve Harvey once told a story about how when a man loves a woman and fully commits to her, he gives her a title. Not just a "baby mama" or just introducing you by your name, he'll say "this is my girlfriend/wife/fiance, (insert name here)."

I'm so thankful to have finally made it to that point. My friend and I conversed today and she said that she has finally let go of all of the casual male acquaintances in her life and she's doing much better without them. We both said how as a woman, (if you're lucky) you get to a point where you learn to screen men out in less than 30 seconds. It could be something as simple as his body language, his posture, his verbal language, or the activity he invites you to, you can tell quite quickly if he is worth your time.

I'm not sure if I said this before, but the ONLY thing that got me to let my guard down when I met Love is how he approached me. As I'd written before, we were at a copy shop and casually talking. I bid him farewell and walked toward my car and he ran outside and stopped me to ask me to lunch. That was the selling point. He didn't ask to come to my home or get me to his home. He didn't ask me to smoke weed or drink with him. He didn't even mention dinner. He suggested something as casual and friendly as lunch. And we've been glued at the hip ever since.

I've got to say, there is something astonishing about being not just the "main chick" but the only woman in a man's life. Love has shown me so much loyalty and devotion in a short amount of time and I have absolutely no doubt that things will continue to flourish and grow between the two of us. In the meantime, we will be spending Thanksgiving with my best friend's family and he's already making the rounds and meeting my friends. They all love him and as each day goes on, we get closer and closer to making our love a spiritual and legally permanent one.

I hate to argue that it was low self-esteem that led me to dealing with the partners I had before, but I've always been one to be honest with myself. At the same time, I was just happy to have love and companionship. But as time grew, so did I, and companionship and penis was no longer enough. I think, no, I know, I'm glad I met him when I did, because truthfully, had I met him at any other time or any other circumstance, I wouldn't have been able to look at him and truly appreciate what a blessing he really is. So it appears that the moment I decided to step up my game, and stop settling for crumbs, Prince Charming marched up on his white horse. Or in his silver Scion. Whichever.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Conversations About the Future

I love that Love reads my blog and feels free to share his thoughts with me. That being said, I mentioned to him that my blog is not nearly as insane or drama filled as it once was, simply because my life is no longer in that state. At the time I met Love, I was completely over drama-filled men and their other women, lies, etc. By then I'd enrolled in Clark Atlanta University as a graduate student and I've been managing to keep A's in both of the classes I'm taking. I'd sworn to myself that dating was pretty much off limits and despite getting approached by men left and right, my focus was to remain on school, myself, and my son.

I actually met Love while I was in a copy shop, printing out a my paper (which I later got an A on). He read the title over my shoulder and I made a joke about the item he was getting printed up. So Love became love, and romance rides again. Being that I'd already been in the zone to get my life and finances in order, it was a lot easier for me to look at Love and for him to look at me and see that there could definitely be a future for the two of us.

One thing that continues to impress me about him is his willingness to openly communicate with me. We frequently have conversations about things such as finances (things to pay off now and then focus on after the wedding). We talk about children, we've talked about buying a house. Those are the things that let me know he's serious about me and about us. We discuss religion, church, and prayer frequently. Frankly, nothing is off limits for us, which makes me even more comfortable.

The other day we again discussed finances. He asked about my student loans (ouch) and we talked about our goals and necessity of saving money and getting a joint account we could both deposit into. I was floored. I tried so hard in the past to get that kind of progress with my exes, yet here is a man, who on his own, is ready to meet me halfway. So somehow, I managed to go from single sista, ready to take on the world, to happily booed-up woman, ready to tackle the future with a man I'm head over heels for. How lucky am I?

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Couple Friends

I was at my best friend's surprise party last night and I met a mutual friend's girlfriend, and I immediately took to her. We both said that in dealing with our men, we were pretty sure that our boos were more than likely our future husbands. We talked about how we'd both had long and bad relationships in the past, so we knew we were on a better tracks.

She told me that she'd been dating him as long as I'd been dating Love and I suggested that she and I double with our new loves. Then I looked up and suggested that the four of us go out with my bestie and his girlfriend, making us a triple date. Around the same time I told her that I had been pricing photogs and flowers for our wedding and was amazed at the prices. She told me that she'd been married before and that her Vegas wedding costs her $5k. Another married friend chimed in that he'd spend over $8k for his wedding last year and he only got that steal because he'd called in favors all over the city. It felt awesome to talk to other people seriously about such issues, since I was never this close to a walk down the isle before.

 It was then that I realized why they often say it is best for couples to hang with other couples. While with Deen there was only one couple we hung with and truthfully, they were just as screwed up as he and I were. Now that I'm in a really happy and loving relationship, I love the idea of getting together with other couples and hanging out. The best thing about the males last night is that I know all three of them (Love, the new woman's boyfriend, and my male bestie) are genuinely GOOD dudes. They are men that seek long-lasting, family-oriented relationships with the women they love and with God. I now understand that when all of your social encounters are with single people, it is easy to get sidetracked and forget to carry yourself as half of a couple. When your focus is husband/wife/child/family, you know not to have your ass in the club frequently as if you were single.

The married friend also told us that he intends to have his birthday this spring in Amsterdam and said we should all join him. I told him that as a woman who is happily committed to a minister, getting blitzed in Amsterdam is not an option. My friend said that if I marry someone, he has to accept who and what I am. I told him that while I agree to an extent, for my particular relationship, somethings I had to fall back on. He's married and his wife will be in Amsterdam with him. I'm heading toward marriage, and I'll be home with my boo. Or wherever he is. Love and I will simply have to find new couples to hang with in the meantime.

Friday, October 25, 2013

To Be Loved: The Epiphany

So yesterday I promised no more blogs about Love, so I decided to make this moreso about what I realized about the emotion of love and how it relates to relationships. Yesterday, I spilled my guts about my apprehension of relaxing and allowing myself to enjoy Love, for my fear of abandonment. I talked to a bestie about my fears and she reminded me that love isn't supposed to hurt and that its just that I've been hurt so much that I'd come to associate love with pain.

Coincidentally enough, I saw Love yesterday, and he was awesome enough to show concern about my son when I wasn't able to get through to his dad's cell AND he gifted me with these.

(Not just one set of flowers but TWO!!) :)

Love has urged me a few times to let him love me, and truthfully, I didn't really know how. Something so simple was really so foreign to me. Love and I are different as night and day, but last night it occurred to me the 2 things he and I have in common. The first thing is that we laugh. We laugh all day about the most random things. Even in the midst of kissing, we're calling one another old and cracking about who's funnier. (I am...) The second is that just like me, he only wants to love and to be loved. That's it. I didn't realize it before, but in many of my relationships, I walked in giving so much, not realizing that I was with men that didn't know how to give or receive love. All I'd wanted was to love a man honestly, and have him love me the same way.

I'm not saying that men didn't love me. I have no doubt that Deen and David both loved me. However, they didn't know how to show it, nor did they know how to take it in and let it grow. So it sat and stewed and created a long, bitter, drawn out mess. I know both of them and I know that were ever they are right now, they're still doing the same insanity.

But back to Love/love. I realized that him wanting to love me so closely matches me wanting to love them. Only this time, I'm blessed to be next to a man that loves love. He loves to love and all he really wants in return is love. Pure, genuine, honest love. All he wants is a woman that can meet him and love him in return. No extra funniness. No lies. No games. I think I'm finally ready, after all of the craziness I've been through, to finally love a man and to let Love love me in return.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Where the Heart Is

Okay, after gushing on old dude for the last two posts, I've decided this one will be the last one focused on him for a while. We hit the month mark today and while I'm still head over heels for him, the honeymoon is wearing off and we're now in the point of getting back to focusing on working on ourselves and making preliminary plans for a potential future together.

But I recently came to realize that I'm bringing a bit of an abandonment issue to the table and I'm frustrated and disappointed with myself for having it, but as always, Love is a champ in dealing with it. Its not that I doubt his love and dedication to me or for me- at the moment. Its just that I keep expecting that one day he'll look up and realize that I'm nuts or get bored and leave. I've seen it so often before that its nearly impossible not to have in my mind. I sometimes question the existence of God, but Love and I have prayed on it and I'm just now realizing how much I'll have to pray on this as well. Every time he sees me or talks to me, he assures me he's here with me and loves me and isn't going anywhere. I believe him- mostly.

One of my favorite books is titled "Where the Heart Is" and it was also made into a movie, staring Ashley Judd. In the movie/book Ashley Judd's character continues to pick shitty men and get pregnant and abandoned by them. In the end she's got like 5 or 6 kids and been to hell and back. She eventually meets a man who sees her and accepts her as she is and takes in her and her kids and they live happily ever after. Yeah, its a condensed version (Judd's character is only secondary in the book anyway), but my point is that I found myself thinking about the book today, and how I thought that stuff like that didn't really exist. I thought that men would continue to blame me and judge me. When I met Love, I was actually going to reject him, not so much because of who he is, but because of where I was and just thinking we wouldn't be a good fit because we were so different. All it took was one date to convince me of how wrong I was. After our 2 hour coffee meeting of laughing, I knew I wanted to see him again. And again.

So here is to hoping to spend more time getting to know and love him. I know he loves me. And I love Love. He is where my heart is.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Officially In Love

So soon, but its true. He makes my heart flutter. And he loves me. Its true, he loves me!! He treats me like a princess and tells me how beautiful I am. We relish all of our time together, no matter how plain. We spend hours laughing and joking. I knew he meant the world to me when we danced around his apartment to "As" by Stevie Wonder the other day. He also owns a Tevin Campbell cd and not the second one (which everyone has), he has the first one. This man is truly a gift from above. I found myself thinking how much I hoped and prayed to hold on to my last two relationships and how this is different. This is different because its easy. And he told me he loves the same thing about being with me. Our time is easy. There are differences but it doesn't matter because we love and respect one another so much that we work through them. He doesn't attempt to buy my love or buy me things to shut me up, we do for each other because we care for one another.

I think back on my exes and I remember how time was with both of them and I know they continue to make their current women miserable. Or with my son's father, doing just enough to keep me around, but not enough to actually work on things. He prayed with me today. He actually held my hands and prayed that we stay together and find strength to work through things. No man (out of MANY) has cared enough to do that before. And I love this man from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. When I walk down the street, men approach me and I happily tell them that I'm involved. Because I see what the dudes in the streets are like and none of them compare to my baby.

We're so affectionate. Often holding hands and making out in public like teenagers. It means so much to me when he looks me in my eyes and pierces my soul and tell me how much I mean to him because its always how I feel about him as well. He even Googled me and found my writings and told me I should get back into it. Now THIS is the man I'm supposed to be with. Today I admitted that there are times that I dream of becoming Mrs (insert his government name, which I'm not telling yall, here).

A relationship like this is truly heaven sent. He knows of my abusive relationships in the past and he doesn't judge me or use my past against me, he supports me as I work through it. He even prayed for my son today. He is a man that I will stick with until I can't anymore. We're already planning for the holidays. I love this man so much. And he loves me.

Monday, October 7, 2013

I'm In Like!!!

As a woman who is learning a lot from her past mistakes, I've decided to keep some details on this one close to my chest, but I will say that I am in absolute like. He's beautiful, charming, loyal, funny, tall, handsome. My heart flutters when I'm near him. We laugh together frequently. I think about him constantly. Today, while in my car, the song "Love Under New Management" by Miki Howard came on and I sang it for dear life. Strangely enough, he and I couldn't be more different, and sometimes that worries him. But I don't care. He knows my sad and twisted story and he listens anyway. He doesn't judge me for my short comings. He knows I'm working on things and he wants to help me through them. I adore him in so many ways. I've never met a man that I routinely talk to for 3 and 4 hours at a time. I don't know what I did to deserve him, but he's a much needed blessing after the long rainy year that I've had.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Trayvon Martin: My Story

It was a Saturday night. I'd spent the evening in my favorite coffeehouse, although I intended to get work done, like always I'd spent most of the night goofing off on Facebook. Then I saw it. Someone said he'd been found innocent. I perked up. I immediately went to and then to confirm it. "Oh no," I blurted out. The Indian man to my right who was speaking to a white woman held up his phone and said "you must have heard about this," as he showed me the news he'd just received.

I sank into my chair and sobbed. I cried long and hard in the middle of the coffeehouse. I heaved in and out as I tried to grasp what just happened. A white guy saw a young black guy, assumed he was dangerous when he wasn't, killed him  and a jury of his all white peers found him innocent. Not a single charge stuck. I cried. I cried and cried. The white barista who I'd come to know on a friendly basis saw me and asked what was wrong. I told her they'd found Zimmerman innocent. I told her that what it meant on a grand scale was that in my country, its okay to shoot someone that looks like me. She looked at me and said "its not okay."

I sat in the coffeehouse for the next 20 minutes and stewed. The same white patrons that had been there before the verdict was announced, suddenly irritated me. They laughed and joked among themselves. I'd wondered if they'd heard the verdict. But a bigger part of me didn't care. Whether they heard the verdict or not, they'd never know. They'd never understand the feeling of having someone look at you and doubt your intelligence or your character. They'd never know what it was like to genuinely fear for all of your male friends and family because they'd be considered walking bulls-eyes. They wouldn't know the pain of knowing your ancestors built the country you reside in, yet people that look like you are treated like suspects. As it grew later, I knew I needed to leave. Too many white people. I was angry. I saw blood.

Despite being in a heavily populated area, since it was primarily white, they partied like always. It was 11'o clock on a Saturday night and the bars were starting to fill up. I saw white people walk through the area, laughing like everything was okay. I hated each and every one of them. I knew I didn't know them, but I didn't care. I knew it was wrong to look at them and hate them for the color of their skin, but I didn't care. I thought about the many loving and kind white people that I know personally, but I didn't care. I wanted and needed answers. I needed it to make sense.

I met a guy that night and found out he was in the music industry. We got to talking for a few hours as I drove him home and I was glad for the distraction. I told myself that he was a blessing because he helped to take my mind away from what just happened. He was only 23 and a tad too young to really see and feel things the way I did so we never discussed the trial or verdict. The moment he exited my car, I broke into sobs again.

I went home and stayed glued to my computer until 4 a.m. Although I'd hoped I'd wake and find the hurt lessened, I knew I wouldn't. I was right. I awoke around 9 a.m. and I was just as enraged as I was the night before. I saw that many of my Facebook friends had blacked out their pictures as forms of protests. Some were discussing meetings and rallies. Some were criticizing the prosecution, some were blaming white folks. Everyone was angry as hell though. I couldn't help but to notice that many of my white Facebook friends didn't comment on the verdict at all. I understood that many of them could never completely understand how we felt and why we were as upset as we were. Again, I struggled to not dislike (or even hate them) because of their skin.

That same morning after the verdict was announced, I had to go to the pet store where I work part-time on weekends. I dragged myself like I've done after the heavy nights of weekend partying. But this day was much harder. Normally after my nights of partying, I go in with a slight smirk, and what my boss calls my "club makeup" as I work through my lingering buzz from the night before and my slightly faded eye shadow and fresh coat of lip gloss. This day was so much more difficult. Once again, I saw white people. But this time, I saw their fucking dogs. All I could think is that Michael Vick did 2 years for fighting dogs, yet a sonofabitch like Zimmerman shot an unarmed black kid and he went free. In the same fucking country where I work and pay taxes. I remember thinking that in this country those damn dogs had more right to a peaceful life than I do.

None of my white coworkers said too much to me. I think they saw me and they knew. I walked in and nodded at them, while I found myself having full blown conversations with my black coworkers. I didn't mean to alienate or disrespect them. Its just that in that moment, I knew they'd never know and didn't want false sympathy. I wanted to comfort and be comforted by people that completely understood how I'd felt. And I knew that no matter how much they wanted to share the load, they'd simply never be able to wrap their minds around what was in my heart. I stuck to my black coworkers, avoided my white coworkers, and only spoke to the white coworkers when I needed to. I'm not sure if my white coworkers noticed it, but I observed that my black coworkers hung to one another a tad more than we'd ever done. I excused myself to the bathroom to cry three times during my 3 hour shift. I walked away as I needed to and they simply filled in for me with no words said. At one point a black customer asked how I was. I focused my puffy eyes on him and said "trying to maintain." He replied "I understand" as he shook his head.

The day after that (2 days after the verdict) came word that Juror B37 was planning to write a book. Quite a fucking slap in the face. The bitch had the nerve to free that fucking animal that killed an unarmed child and now the bitch was trying to profit from it. Un-fucking-believable. The rage started to lessen, but the nerve of some people was simply appalling. Around the same time the rallies were starting to organize as more and more public figures started to speak out about the verdict. I'm not even going to begin to go in on the interview the bitch did where she sat oblivious to pretty much everything the verdict meant and stood for.

Around the same time, some people had also started to talk about boycotting Florida over the "Stand Your Ground Law" which, though never used by the defense, still sparked outrage by many. I found myself contemplating whether I should still take my vacation to Florida. I'd promised my son that I'd take him to see my mother who resided a little outside of Orlando and I desperately needed the beach. But my pain was still raw and although I knew I wouldn't spend a lot of money on my vacation, I was still hesitant to spend a dime in the same state that let Zimmerman get away with slaughtering a 17-year-old child.

Two weeks later, I drove to Florida anyway. I'd told myself that this time if I went there, I'd absolutely have to do Sanford. I'd wanted to do it before, but I knew that this time around, I would definitely do it. I'd told a few friends that I wanted to go and while some of them thought the idea seemed cool, others couldn't figure out why I'd want to do something like that. All I knew was that my spirit told me to do it, so I did.

The first thing was trying to find the address. I did some Google magic and found it. I gassed up my car and I hit I-4 going east. A part of me was geeked. I had no idea what I'd find. Since the news had constantly referred to it as a "gated community" I figured it would be impossible to enter, so I'd simply stay at the front, admire the cards, flowers, and teddy bears that were placed there, pay my respects and leave. 

I saw the clouds accumulating in the direction I was driving in and hoped that something up there would be with me and allow me to do whatever my spirit told me to do. I got off the exit as the rain started. I figured I would simply stop at a store, make a friend or two, ask a few questions and wait until the rain stopped.  As to be expected from Mapquest, the bastards gave me the wrong directions. I went into the area and couldn't find it the street I looked for, so I decided to stop at a store and look for a friendly face to ask for directions. 

I went into a TJ Maxx and looked around for a friendly (brown) face. I looked. And looked. All I seemed to see where the faces of conservative whites, and despite being moderately warm with their hellos as I walked past, at no point did I really feel genuinely welcome. Although I wanted to speak to a local and get some directions, I was careful to not stand out too much. An older black woman eventually made eye contact with me, so I smiled back and asked if she was local. She kindly responded "no." Somehow I got the feeling that she lied because she didn't want to answer questions, but I let it go. I even tried the Target across the street, but again I didn't seem to come across anyone that could aid me. I texted some friends and told them where I was and told them what I was doing there. I explained that I felt like I was on Mars as I looked for a friendly face that would be open to speaking with me. One friend suggested that I look for a young white person that looked friendly and liberal. Again, my choices were slim. I was blessed enough to find a Starbucks and although I went in and saw a few young whites, none of them were old enough to really grasp why I was there. I left on my own to find what I'd come for.

I eventually found what I'd looked for and while I'd contemplated before where I would park, I found an elementary school across the street from the subdivision. I'd finally made it to The Retreat at Twin Lakes. I parked my car there while I walked across the street to the front of the community. 
I stood outside for a moment as I studied the area. Not a single teddy bear, card, flower or anything. Where was the huge outpouring of love that I'd been expecting? I expected the air to be heavy with death and sadness. Not the case. Strangely enough, it was pretty boring. Nothing out of the ordinary. There was no kind of indicator that the source of the biggest court trial regarding the death of a black man since Emmett Till happened right inside of the gates. A few cars drove by me as  I stood outside and I made it my point to avoid eye contact and to not arouse any suspicion. I knew why I was there, as did the residents, but still I didn't want to risk any cops or security, so I kept a low profile.

Then I observed that several cars came in and and went. Then my gears started turning and it occurred to me that I could easily walk through the gate after one of the cars or possibly even crawl under the gate. Then the little devil on my shoulder told me to turn the knob at the pedestrian gate, so I did. And it opened.

I walked through the door unsure of what to do next. While I'd anticipated reflecting at the front, I certainly didn't expect to make it through the gate.  I walked in and walked to the right. It was far quieter than I'd expected. For a brief moment I wondered what I'd do if I saw Zimmerman. I like to think I'd be a badass, but truthfully, I don't always think well on my feet so I probably would have just smiled weakly or given some kind of apathetic head nod and kept it rolling. 

So many cars were there, indicating that people were home, yet very few people were outside. I decided to see if I could find the spot where Trayvon was killed. I called a few friends to see if any of them could get online and find the address, yet none of them could. I hung up and decided to try it from my phone. 

To my amazement, the name of the street I'd been standing on matched the address I found online.   While I looked online it talked about a path he'd been on that led to the subdivision clubhouse. The street address was 1111 Retreat View Circle (the house on the right in the picture). I walked around until I found it. I knew from the pictures I'd seen online regarding the trial, that this was the spot. I froze. 
Oddly enough, I didn't really feel anything. This was the spot that led to countless marches and tears. While the residents here were sleepy and bored, and ready to move on with their lives, and while my city, Atlanta, was ablaze with passion and rage over what happened in this one spot, it was just a friendly neighborhood corner. I heard a man behind me on the phone loudly, talking about something random at work. A few people drove by me as I took pics. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. It was literally Anytown, USA. I kept an eye out for a friendly face, and again, nothing much was available. I also kind of giggled at the fact that there was no "friendly neighborhood watch" to ask me what the hell I was doing there. I kept to myself and so did the locals.

For the first time, it actually started to make sense. Of course, I felt outrage about the George Zimmerman verdict. I'm a black woman, from a black city, constantly surrounded by young, beautiful, educated, progressive black people. But in this small little subdivision, a young tall, lanky black kid could would easily be seen as a threat to those that didn't care enough to see past what they wanted to see, or what they didn't know to look past. The aloof attitude of B37 finally made sense as well. Here, in this little bubble of Earth, they don't care because they don't have to. Race didn't have to matter to her here, because here, she was the race that was protected. Women like her "belong" in Sanford. Conservative, aloof, unaware, and unknowing of how aloof and unaware she really is. As a black urbanite, its amazing how I'm almost oblivious to my own race until the moment I step outside of my own neighborhood.

I decided to eventually follow the path that was so widely talked about online and on the 911 tapes. I walked the path and it occurred to me that he'd entered the subdivision and walked through the back past the lake and onto the corner. As I walked along the path, a dog barked and walked toward me. I smiled at it as the white owner told it to heel. Again, I walked toward the front and realized that if I'd turned around, that would be the view that Trayvon took toward his destination. So I took the pic. The side near the trees is where Retreat View Circle is, where I'd taken the picture at the intersection.
 Thankfully, but at the same time, I was disappointed that no one spoke to me. I wanted answers. I wanted opinions. But I knew what it was. They were tired. They'd dealt with the trial for year and a half. Those that were willing to talk to outsiders had already done so. They just wanted to move on with their lives in their sleepy little town. They didn't know, nor did they really care that the rest of the country was outraged at what happened in their their backyard. The trial was over and they were ready to move forward. And they want everyone else to do the same thing. 

Trayvon's death is just an unfortunate accident to some. But we know it was more. And we cannot sit back idly and allow moments and times like this to vanish, like those residents and like the rest of America wants us to.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Feeling the Loss Nearly 4 Years Later

So anyone not living under a rock can read the news story on ABC, Good Morning America, and Yahoo! about my dead cousin's wife Jessica, getting married to a fellow widower. I'm so happy for both of them.

For a moment, I found myself feeling better about the loss of Jarronn. I felt for a moment that things were okay and that it all finally made sense. I even felt that Jarronn and Jordan's deceased wife, Danielle, were responsible for bringing the two together, which helped me to feel even better. But then something made me go and visit my cousin's Facebook page, which I hadn't seen in a while. As always, there were well wishes from people that missed him and expressed how deeply his loss affected their life even four years later. And then out of the blue, I decided to read the messages I'd sent him.

In the days and weeks after his death, whenever I felt the need to call him, to talk to him, to yell at him for leaving me, or just to feel his presence, I'd message him through Facebook and hope that somehow he'd read my words and comfort me.

I remember the days after he left so clearly. It was dark. A blur. Nothing made sense, coupled with the fact that I was miserable where I was living, made it that much harder to deal with at the time. I remember sitting in my car and playing this song back to back as I sat in traffic with tears streaming down my face. I'd sit alone and I'd talk to him and yell at the sky. I'd tell him it wasn't his time and that he wasn't supposed to leave a wife and parents and brother or me.

I remember our last conversation, which happened a few weeks after he got married and a month or so before he died. That was the first long conversation we'd had in years. It was about 30 minutes. We talked about his wedding, he talked about the connection he felt with Jessica and how easy it was to get along with her. We talked about the fucking motorcycle. I absolutely begged him not to ride that thing. How funny is it that in our last conversation, that happened? We talked about family, mine and his. I told him I'd give him 2 years to enjoy his new bride before I started leaning on him to give me a bouncing niece or nephew. And then, I got that call.

He was gone.

One of my messages to him shortly after his death was this:

jessica was so strong at your service, but its refreshing to see that she's finally got time to grieve your loss. but i'm stil mad at you. i know you told me that you're still with her and that you'll help her through this, but jarron you're not supposed to be dead. i know you told me it was your time, but it wasn't. we didn't talk nearly as much as we were supposed to and now that you're gone, i'm mad i didn't call you more. i keep thinking that its been a couple of weeks so i should be okay, but I'M NOT. this is just too sad. where are the babies, where are our visits to you and your kids, where are you for me to call you and tell you that i'm having a baby and i'm naming him after you? where are you for me to call you crying about what an idiot deen is? you shouldn't be gone. please come back.

I'm so happy for Jessica. But I still miss my cousin.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Friend Zones

As stated, I made a new friend "Chaz" a few weeks ago. He's lovely. Sexy as all hell, funny, charming, good looking, insightful, warm, honest. Things that would make him an incredible friend. So despite the obvious sexual tension between us, I told him I think we'd be best as platonic friends. Sure, there are moments when I imagine what it would be like to do inappropriate things to him, but with each day those moments are fewer, and I settle into how much I adore his friendship and I always look forward to seeing him again. I also love that he lives close to me while so many of my friends live further out.

I guess its a sign of my growing maturity to not automatically feel it necessary to bed an attractive guy just because I can. It also goes to show how much I value friendship because I don't want to get it in one time and then lose a good friend. It reminds me of another situation I was in a while ago. I was chatting with a homegirl and somehow we started to talk about a good friend of mine I'll call Mike. Mike and I have tons in common but he friend zoned me early on. I was hurt, but I accepted it and he and I became like brother and sister. For some stupid reason I let my friend convince me that Mike's friendship was destined to be more and I followed her advice. I ended up making things uncomfortable between us by trying to push up on him and reading too much into his behavior. Thankfully things got better, but it was certainly a strange period for us.

Then there is my friend Larry. Larry and I met back in high school when he was dating one of my best friends. Larry and I were thick as thieves early on and periodically he and I would lose touch, but we'd always eventually find our ways back to one another. I'm blessed that through the miracle of Facebook, Larry and I have managed to recently reconnect after years of being apart. As we reconnected, he told me about some issues he's had and admitted that he's lost some good female friends in his day by letting his libido get the best of him. I then jokingly mentioned the make out session he and I had while I was in college, but I didn't want things to suffer so I said no. He said that he's glad I said no because I'd probably hate him if we'd gone all the way. I bet he's right. He even admitted to being a "slimeball" at the time and said that looking back it was best that things didn't go that way.

I've always been a girl that had a lot of people around me. I guess its safe to say that I'm popular. And yes, while going through my seasons of "no sex" it would be easy to push up on the males that surround me. But I've learned to not do that. Because I'd rather hold their hands than to have another broken heart.

Monday, July 1, 2013

Baptism to Newness

Its not a secret that I'm ready to do something new and exciting. Grad school starts in less than 2 months and I'm feeling and looking like a million bucks. I had a barbecue for my birthday and was so excited to see so many people I love in my home. I've wanted to have a gathering in my home for the last 4 or 5 years and my ex really wasn't into that kind of thing. It was so nice to look up and see my friends enjoying themselves and each other. Seeing them like that just reminded me again of how blessed I am to have this kind of life. Some people resent their lives, however I wake up every day and thank the Universe for granting me the blessing of being me. It sounds conceited but whatever.

Thirty-two was such a horrific year that I knew that 33 would be an absolute blessing and I've made every attempt at making it so.

So anyway, like I said before, I met a hot guy on my birthday. He and I are just homies, but I adore him. I feel such a close connection to him. I feel that in some cosmic way, we're meant to be in one another's lives. I feel that meeting him (I'll call him Chaz) was a part of the Higher Power completing the work in my life that I needed done. Anyway, I needed some advice and he refused to give it to me. As we sat in a coffeehouse I urged him to answer my question. He refused. On the way home, I asked again. He finally said it. He blurted out that my problem is that I think too much (true!) and that I give off a high sexual energy (also true!). I was floored. I think he expected me to get all sensitive and in my feelings. I smiled at him. I thanked him and hugged him. He smiled back.

That night while at my regular watering hole, a friend (half) jokingly said to me that he believes I'm addicted to sex. While I certainly wouldn't call myself a nympho (or even a woman of loose sexual morals), I did have to admit to myself that whenever sex enters my sphere, I lose most of my brain cells. I knew it was officially time for me to rechannel my energy. I decided that the best thing to do would be to start exercising away some of my frustration. My plan was to start jogging again once my son started back in school, but I decided that there was no real need to wait. I laced up my sneakers, grabbed my iPod and hit Piedmont Park.

I'd forgotten how much I missed the clarity that exercise brought. I felt my limbs loosening up and enjoying the walk/jog as much as the rest of me did. I again reflected on what Chaz said about my sexual energy. Every time I thought about sex, I started to pick up the pace. I wanted sex out of my mind so I ran it out. I thought about how much I'm so thankful for the many blessings in my life and how I couldn't wait to start my journey into graduate school. I smiled as I felt the warm sun on my back as I allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts in a way I hadn't allowed in a long time. I thought about my life and my journey and the people around me and how much they inspire me.

I also looked forward to seeing the new addition to Piedmont Park. I jogged around and found it. It was smaller than I'd thought it would be, but still I enjoyed it. I stayed in my thoughts and smiled at passersby as I circled the area. I looked at the clock and realized I was nearing time for me to get ready for work so I headed for the exit only to find a disturbing thing. Within the 10 minutes that I was there, the sprinkler had somehow broken, so the same dry way I came in was now shooting water into the air, bathing everyone brave enough to cross it.

While water isn't a huge thing for me, those that know my hair struggles know that water is not my friend unless I'm about to tackle my long locks with some shampoo, hair clips and patience. I sat back and examined the small geyser. I looked for a way around it to find none. I decided then that it was time.

I ran through the flowing water like a child on a hot summer day. I felt the water on my skin (and my hair) bathing me in newness and excitement. I felt all of the bad energy and fears and memories wash away from me. I laughed at the worries that plagued me and ran into what I knew would become a newer and happier and more peaceful Malika.

I went for a jog and ended up with the kind of Baptism that only mother nature knows I needed. (I'd also like to note that the Universe was also kind enough to keep my hair in place).

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Happily Ever After

On July 30, 2009, I lost my cousin Jarronn in a motorcycle accident. To say that  we struggled to understand why God would take him away 2 and a half months after marrying an incredible woman is an understatement. Well, let's just say that I now believe in Happily Ever After.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

The True Test of My Self Esteem

I celebrated my birthday Thursday and it was undeniably the best birthday I've ever had. I saw my family, hung with my best friend, looked good, felt good, randomly kept running into friends who greeted me warmly with "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" where ever I went that day. It was beautiful.

I ended up unexpectedly in Starbucks and started talking to a man as I left out. I was shocked when he asked for my number, but we exchanged Facebook info. I contacted him a few days later. He messaged me the next day and decided to hang out for a while. He was sexy, smart, nice body, and a sweet guy overall. The only issue was that he made it known that he was into intimacy and I let him know that I wasn't looking for the same. Despite our attraction to one another, we decided to stay platonic friends.

That evening, I got bored and asked him if I could Google him. He said sure. But something strange happened. The drop down box had his name followed by the name of a well-known Black actress. I clicked on it only to learn that he was her "boy toy" at one period in time. I couldn't believe it. There were plenty of modeling pictures of him and pictures of him and the actress booed up together. I was floored.

I asked him about it and he shrugged it off. It was insane to see the person I occasionally cook for and hang out with, hugged up with a glamorous public figure. I remember my best friend and I in middle school discussing the tv show we watched her own. And now she's here. Or at least there. I like the dude as he's funny, smart, kind and all of that. But he's screwing HER. I'm not jealous. He's a great guy, but personality wise, he and I could never do the long term thing. I really enjoy having him in my life. But wow. Wow.

My ego just deflated.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Is It Okay to Die?

There's a guy I've known since middle school. I'd lost track of dude until the wonders of Facebook came along. Since then, based on his Facebook postings, I've learned that he is suffering from heart failure and may not make it if he doesn't get a heart transplant soon. I've been glad to see the uplifting posts from him and his family about his battle. But at the same time, I knew that everyone had to be prepared in case the worst happened.

Today I saw postings where he was saying that he was tired and close to giving up. I saw my chance to finally say to him what I'd wanted to say. I started by asking if he was nervous. He said that he's more scared than anything. I told him that truthfully, the angels will guide him which ever way he is to go and not to be fearful. He said he'd miss his kids. I told him that no matter what, he'll be with his children, even if he's on the other side. Perhaps living with a terminal illness made him feel at ease to discuss things, which I was uncomfortably glad about. I can't believe that I told a man that it's okay to die.

I just didn't want him holding on if he didn't want to. I didn't want him to be fearful on his journey. I don't want him to feel like he wasted his life. I didn't go pull any plugs or tell him to drop dead, but I did want him to know that its okay to be afraid, but its okay to go into the light as well. I know that a lot people want him to stick around. No one wants to see him leave this plane now. And that's okay. Maybe its because he and I weren't close that I was okay saying it to him. Because I can't see telling any of my close friends or family members to walk into the light. But I told him. I felt that he needed to know that its okay to let go and be on the other side. Sometimes when I see his posts, I think to myself that it will be any day now that he will take his final journey. And if he gets called Home, I hope I helped to make him a little more okay with that.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

The Pain of Beauty

I guess I'll throw it out there that I'm a bit smitten. Its still really early in the stages of things, so I will remain guarded, but I haven't had this kind of rapport with a man since my ex, David. He's cute, funny, charming, smart, successful, and a bunch of other qualities that I admire. I hope things go well, but I'm ready to walk away if I need to.

With that said, one thing I adore about him is how much we pick on one another. Its almost like middle school all over again, which is cute considering that he and I met in high school. I guess while conversing I'd often tell him what I was munching on and he once made the observation that I eat a lot of chicken. I laughed it off, and as I made chicken salad for breakfast a few days later, I had to call him and admit that he was right.

The one thing that I did not share with him, however, is the reason I eat so much chicken. I eat goo-gobs of chicken because chicken is carb-free and I don't eat pork or beef. Its sad but true. I'm down to a size 10 and I'd like to make it to size 8. I've slacked a little on my dieting lately, but I'll be damned if I blow back up to where I was. Don't get me wrong, there are still days where my inner devil wins out and McDonald's or Krystal's makes it as my dinner or mid-day snack, but overall, I try to keep my diet under control to at least maintain my current shape.

I decided not to tell the object of my desires that the reason I eat so much chicken is because I'm low carbing. I'm not sure if he reads my blog (I kind of hope he doesn't at his point), but if he does, the secret is now out. Its not that I'm ashamed of being a woman that watches my weight, I simply don't want him to think that I'm some kind of high maintenance priss that refuses to eat real food for fear of gaining weight one day.

One good thing about my transformation over the last year is the overwhelming confidence it gave me. If y'all thought I was a mess before, trust me, you can't tell me shit now. I feel so effing good that its amazing. And I don't feel good because I look good, I look good because I feel good. It feels so awesome to walk into regular clothing stores, not Lane Bryant or Ashley Stewart to buy clothes. I can go into the junior's section at Macy's and go NUTS. For the first time in my adult life, I can actually wear not just a large (as opposed to extra large, which I wore before), your girl can actually wear a medium in some clothes. This feels fantastic.

So with all of that said, is no surprise that I have decided that I plan to maintain this diet to some degree for the rest of my life. Of course I don't just eat low carb, I also load up on fruits and veggies and down lots of water. But when it comes to pizza, sushi, nachos, rice and pasta, those are serious no-nos or at least relegated to "that time" of the month where women crave all kinds of shit and eat whatever the fuck we want, lest some asshole get killed for telling us to keep an eye on our figures.

Yep, I'm officially "that" girl that eats chicken 7 days a week and often eats just chicken as a full meal, while snacking on fruit throughout the day. And the man who has my eye is none the wiser. And I'll be okay with that and so will he. Because I look damn good on his arm as we have a great time together, laughing and talking about life. So now both of us can feel as good as I look. Chicken is totally worth it.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Crazy Blind Hopeful Faith

I recently found myself  at a barbecue of a friend's relative when I saw an attractive woman, in her mid 30's walk in. It wasn't long before the woman found herself at my table when she and I started talking. I was more than enthused when I learned that the woman was about to enter her junior year at the University of Georgia and majoring in both English and Public Relations. I was thrilled to speak with her since those two topics are two of my favorites. I asked the woman if she hoped to write for a living, and naturally, she stated yes.

I told her that in my experience of graduating in Media Studies from Kennesaw State University, she needed to begin a blog and start working now to create a buzz for herself and get some experience writing for the internet. I told her that the competition is fierce and that as a middle aged woman who had not worked in 16 years, because she was married at the time, the work force is a new monster to contend with. The woman looked at me like I had a third eyeball in the middle of my forehead and assured me that she was not worried about getting a job upon graduation completion because she knows someone at a local television station. I told her that while optimism is a great thing to have, she also had to keep in mind that damn near everyone knows someone in media already and she was reminded that they'd all be trying to get their resume in there through someone they know. I also reminded her that she'd be contending with kids in their early 20's while she'd be knocking on 40 and those kids grew up in an age where she was just getting acclimated to. With what she had working against her, it was that much more important to be getting a solid portfolio together while still in school.

The conversation then shifted as she talked about her sudden separation from her husband of 16 years and how although she was caught off guard with it, she remained hopeful about getting married in the future. I told her that although I see myself dating and possibly getting married in the future, I've seen enough from men to know that I'll never trust another one 100% and that women need to always have some money to the side and an exit strategy in case the shit hits the fan one day. She again looked a me as if I were a horribly disfigured creature and told me she's seen too many happily married people to believe that most men are capable of the worst.

I couldn't believe it. I was absolutely dumbfounded. No seriously, I'd just found something dumb. Here was a woman that after 16 years of marriage is in the work force and hoping to get married and despite being nearly 40, had no clue about life. I mentioned that respected her optimism, but I maintain the notion that one should hope for the best, but always be prepared for the worst. She responded that she operated by "hope" not optimism because optimism is "choosing to believe the best" while hope is "knowing that the Spirit will cover you." Excuse me, but I don't think I've ever heard such ignorant horseshit in my life. I'm all for Christianity and all, but I doubt God would have you ignore sage advice about your career choice because you magically expect things to work out in your favor if you pray on it long enough. I can only imagine how many prayers a Higher Power must listen to on an hourly basis from recent and not so recent college graduates. Lord knows I've sent up a few myself when I was going out and interviewing.

 My inner Gemini tried to make this make sense, but I couldn't. Because it didn't. This woman found herself alone and going back to school after 16 years of being a stay at home mom and she had the gall to look at me like I don't know a damn thing about career or love? Bitch please. Or as a Christian woman would say- Bitch please. Eventually I made my way to another table with people that had a bit more realism to themselves and I shared a social worker story with a man who told me about things he'd done in the field that could have gotten him killed, and I told about a girl who called me because she wanted me to pick her up from her pimp while he was out. I didn't go because, well, because I didn't want to get cut or killed, but that's another story for another blog entirely.

I don't know, I've been hearing myself be described by others as "jaded" lately and perhaps they're right. I'm not the same bright eyed and bushy tailed girl I was 15 or 20 years ago and perhaps its for the best. I think that my keen eye and shrewd sense of dealing with people that haven't earned my trust yet has put me in a place where I'm a lot more comfortable pursuing the various financial situations that I have in front of me. And I'm actually excited about being comfortable enough to go into the world and rightfully claim my place as a woman who deserves respect and clout. And what I'm not given, I'm going to get regardless. Because I don't believe a spook in the sky is gonna hand me shit.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

The Hair Dilemma

I swear I'm going to get back to my baby and start blogging again. Writing is my passion. It is my love. It is not only what I'm good at, its what I'm great at. I'm funny, warm, charming, and charismatic as fuck. Man, I seriously I missed the feeling of opening up a new page and the excitement of knowing my topic, but not knowing my words and then the eventual beauty of reading back over my masterpiece. Fuck, I'm good at this. Anyway, off that rant, and on to my topic at hand- my hair.

I've had locs now for about 9 years. I originally started them because I was about to start school at Kennesaw and I needed something that would be less work than the cornrows and box braids I had been previously rocking. My hair reached a very plain length to the middle of my back about 3 years ago, when I decided to cut it above my shoulders.

Since then, my hair has grown back, but this time around, I'm a lot better at taking care of it. I've learned that when you've got long dread locs, you have to cut them into layers and a dab of hair color goes a long way. I'd be lying if I said that my hair was anything other than incredible. Seriously, I'm not just bragging. Aside from my writing, my hair is the one thing I managed to make look spectacular. And therein lies the problem.

I had a situation a few months back that shook me to my core. Its safe to say that it was a life changing situation. Since then I've decided to take a good long look at myself and my choices. I've had to completely leave some people alone, while others merely took a severe step back in their roles in my life. I also decided to take a major break from dating and sex. That's right, no nookie since February and although I told myself that my birthday would be when I'd open up the heavenly gates again, I see very little chance of anything happening for that to occur by next month, which will be my 33rd.

The crazy thing is that I'm okay without sex. I don't want it. I learned the hard way that sex leads to drama, lies, bullshit and other stuff that I just don't want or need anymore. My focus is myself, my son, grad school and my immediate search of happiness, money, and independence. I've decided that sex would need to take a major back seat and that any man that I make an acquaintance would have to be my friend first before anything could pop off between us. I've decided that to be fair, I let a man know up front that I've got no intentions of having sex.

One guy at the coffeehouse that I routinely go to once looked at my new figure that is now 30 lbs. lighter and suggested we hang one day. I looked him square in his eye and said that we could hang but that there'd be no nookie. He then told me that I'm simply depriving myself and told me a story of another female that made the mistake of telling him the same thing and then getting mad when he later rejected her. I just shrugged and told him that "irregardless" of the fact, I'm not fucking. He and I still see each other around, but he's made no mention of hanging out since. Which is more than cool with me.

That's some other shit dudes appear to be on. When I let some of my former flunkies know that I've given up the stick to focus on my goals, they all feel it necessary to tell me that I'm depriving myself. Man, penises really are stupid. I've gone through more than enough bullshit to know that penis has been my downfall and I don't want any of it. I don't want to be the main chick unless the dude is seriously pulling his weight, and I'm damn sure not playing the side chick anymore. And if that means that I've got to spend some time alone, making the other areas of my life phenomenal, that's just fine by me.

It's awesome to see how well so many of my friends and associates are doing. They're making money on their crafts, starting and running businesses and all kinds of other stuff. Other women are sick of the fucked up dudes they've been with forever and they're getting their shit together to dump their dead weight. I'm happy to see it around me because it helps me to focus on me. And now back to my hair- its a goddamn magnet for lust.

I've always been an outgoing woman, so meeting men has never been an issue for me. Its just that for the first time in my life, I'd like to fly under the radar of men. Don't get me wrong, I'm okay with a man talking to me, liking my personality, and wanting to meet up for lunch or coffee. What I get tired of is sitting in a coffeehouse, minding my business and looking up and realize that three different mofos are periodically staring at me. And among those three does not include the weird dude with Tourette's that always manages to find a goddamn empty seat right next to me. No seriously no matter what time of day or night I'm in there, dude always seems to find a seat right next to me and babbles incoherently to himself while staring at me. It was flattering at first, but now I'd just like to pepper spray him and walk back to my seat. I'm not sure but I think that management might have a bit of a problem with me doing that in the shop. *Mental note- find out if coffeehouse people are okay with me pepper spraying weird slow dude with Tourette's in front of everyone.*

I know its the freaking hair. Men stare at it, they ask about it, they want to touch it. The ask how long I've had the locs, they notice when I've dyed them, they frequently compliment them. I was riding down the street the other day when I slowed my car at a stop light in front of construction workers. I got the usual stares,did the usual "I'm being friendly and smiling and waving, but I'm really not interested in you" wave and smirk, when one of the dudes complimented my hair. I gave him a tight smile and then said "thank you." He then said "can I run my fingers through it?" What the hell?! I know I sound like a nut, but what the fuck do you want or need to touch my hair for?! I looked at him, shook my head lightly and said back to him "No. No, you cannot touch my hair." That was actually the second encounter I'd had that day regarding some dude outside of my car trying to holler at me while I was driving.

It happens when I walk randomly down the street. It happens when I post Facebook pictures. Men are absolutely obsessed with my hair. And I hate it. Like I said, I'm okay with a guy liking my personality and wanting to get to know me better. But I'm strangely uncomfortable with men lusting after my hair. For the first time in my life, I understand why Muslim women sometimes cover their hair, and conservative Christian women keep their hair tied up. I don't know what it is about the hair, but when it cascades down my back, men look at me like I'm a steak. I feel a tad more guarded when I meet men and its down. I'd considered cutting it, but I really don't want to. I'm considering Bantu knots or a few other styles that would allow me to cover it. I'd even thought of hats, but its way too freaking hot to keep all of this hair covered up.

Some days I also attribute it to the new look since I've slimmed down. So my now 5'8 170 lb frame, gets a lot more love and attention than it did at 200.
And of course with the weight loss came some shopping for new dresses. So sundresses plus locks halfway down a woman's back somehow becomes kryptonite to men. It know its kind of crazy, but as I work on myself, I've also learned to work on my appearance. I threw out a ton of old clothes, making way for new, fashionable, flirty, feminine and trendy looks. So I look and feel like a million bucks now. But the problem is that despite how banging I look, I want to be left alone. I want to be alone with my thoughts. I want to be alone while I write. I want to be completely alone until a man proves that he's finally worth my time. I want to fucking be alone. And the beautiful hair that I'd always wanted (and I finally have) seems to be the one thing in the way to keep that from happening.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Inquiring Minds

It’s no secret to those around me that I’m in a beautiful place in life. No drama, no craziness, no stalkers, just me, my thoughts, my actions, my son, and my plans. Sometimes I sit and marvel at how incredible things are around me. I’ve dropped 20lbs so I’m down to 176 and I’m trying to lose 15 to 20 more.  I’ve met some wonderful people and all the while, the same trusted and true friends that I’ve always had have been right there with me through my journey.

                Truthfully, there are times where I wish my ex was around, times like when I think about my desire to attend the National Black Arts Festival Ball this summer. But I’ve simply chalked it up to me needing to find someone new to attend schmoozy events like that with. But overall when I think of the fact that there have been very little issues and hardly any tears since I left him alone, I know that no date night could be worth sacrificing my happiness all over again.

                There have been moments when I wonder what the hell my ex is up to, but then I remember that wondering and worrying about him is what kept me depressed and under his wing all those years so then I simply remind myself that whatever he’s doing is none of my damn business, and then I go back to being as fly as I am. I guess it’s safe to say that I’m doing some “me time.” I realized that due to a less than spectacular childhood, I think my sense of what love is supposed to feel like is warped. I’ve never gotten along with my sisters and truthfully I never really felt loved as a child. So with that, I became the kind of person that gave the undying love that I wanted to receive, however I put up with a lot of shit from others because somehow in my mind, love was supposed to be rocky.

                Since my separation from my ex, I’ve realized that I needed a serious reprogramming in terms of what love is supposed to feel like. Sure, I meet men constantly, but lately I simply find charming ways to delicately let them know that I’m not available. On the rare times when a man truly dazzles me (and it did happen when one man went out of his way to write his name on a dollar bill to give to a friend to slide to me), I will exchange numbers with him but then I’ll quickly let him know that I’m not in a space to date seriously and that at this point, I think I’d be a horrible girlfriend. In the case of the man that slipped me his number on a dollar bill, he thanked me for my honesty and told me that he doesn’t plan to go anywhere as I work out my kinks. He asked me if I’d call myself “emotionally unavailable” and when I answered yes, he said he understood. I don’t know if he’d be considered a potential suitor, but the fact that he does not pressure me for time or sex shows me that I’m on the right path to getting better suitors.

                Sometimes I think about the things my ex said to me and I get angry all over again, however I’ve learned to channel it into making me a stronger person. I remember how as we were together he constantly complained about wanting his own life. After our last final blow up, I gave him his wish. No contact. NONE. We talk about our child and child support. I have absolutely no clue about his life and him none about mine. I don’t think I have too much excitement overall, but even when there is something noteworthy to deal with (and believe me, I have had a noteworthy experience), my ex is not in my inner circle of confidantes. Truthfully at that little moment I almost wished I could have told my ex, but I knew that he has never been a source of comfort when I needed it, so to confide in him now would be a lost cause.

After our blow up he told me he wanted us to go to counseling, but I declined. He said that he felt it would be best for Caleb, but I told him that Caleb is happy when his mommy is happy and right now his mom is elated with no contact and I wanted to keep it that way. My life has so much harmony. My ex never wanted me to have friends over when we lived together, but now that I live alone, my home is constantly filled with love and laughter from guests. My ex never wanted me to paint our walls, but now I’ve got brilliant color everywhere in my home. My ex never seriously wanted to buy a home, but now that is something that I’m hoping to have accomplished within the next 4 to 5 years. He invaded my blog and told me that my writing was stupid. I was in Ikea recently and met a woman that wants me to write for her webzine and my cousin Ali also wants me to pick up writing for him again. I’ve got a few business ideas that I hope to bring to life soon. Why the hell would I go back to a lying cheater when I have so much harmony in my life now?

A girlfriend of mine recently watched our son and promptly told me that when Deen came to pick up our son, he asked her how I was. I don’t know what kind of answer he thought he’d get, but she simply told him “Malika’s fine.” At a night club where another good friend is a doorman, again Deen asked how I was. Apparently my ex being the asshole he is made some quip about me and drama. My friend told my ex “Malika’s in a good place. She’s focusing on herself and seems to really be focused on not having any drama in her life. I think she’s doing really well and she’s happy.” It was an honor to know that my friend told that to Deen. It was actually just an honor to know that my best friend felt that way about me period.

I find it hilarious that the man that spent years telling me that he wanted a separate life from me is now so desperate for information on me that he’s questioning my friends. The fact is that he spent a very long time acting as though I was completely below him. I guess when it comes down to it, I wasn’t that bad after all since he keeps up his inquiry.

And on the note of another person that is obsessed with me, it appears my insane stalker Chloe is still the woodworks, Googling me and trying to reach out to me on Facebook until I blocked her ass. What can I say? When you’re dope as hell and upwardly mobile, bored underlings have nothing better to do than inquire about the people they wish they had in their lives.