i can't sleep

i got my first (and second) article published this week. yay. other than that, this week has been pretty shitty. i really just want to crawl up into a ball and to be left the hell alone. i don't know if it was that ignorant cunt coming on my blog, this shit with that other chick, or me being pissed at old boy. i just want to sleep. but i can't. the crazy thing is that chloe and i actually could have been friends because we do have a lot in common, but she's so shady and such a liar that she can't be trusted. she's made it her mission to make my life hell, but all the while telling me how jealous she is and that she wants to be friends. huh? no thank you, i have enough problems.
i need rest, i need to feel rejuvenated. thanksgiving will be here soon. a part of me is stoked, but a part of me just wants it to be over already. i don't even know why i've been blogging so much lately. i guess i just needed the release. no humor over here, too much stress for that. too many serious thoughts going through my head. too many unanswered questions. too many answers that i didn't like. why can't i be given the benefit of the doubt after all this time? when will my past stop affecting my future? *sigh*

Dreams: Having Them and Living Them

Man, I'm so freaking sick of this mess. Everytime that evil ignorant ass skank pops up, I'm reminded of the past. And now its creeping into my dreams. My concious life is strange enough without visions of the past and alternate future sneaking into my unconcious life. I should be dreaming of the vacation i'm going to be taking pookie on, once I start this new job. I should be dreaming of how successful and happy my son would be. Or even having dreams about how dope my digital magazine will be (coming soon!! Look out for it in 2010!) No, instead I'm having dreams about my ex. What the fuck? I remember that he wanted to fuck me in the dream. But I don't really recall being all that excited about it. Its funny, if I wanted to see, talk to, or even fcuck that funky wack ass bastard, I'm sure that I could. But I wouldn't for a few reasons. 1) His dick has been in that nasty ass hoe, so I'm sure it'll be falling off any day now, both from disease and from the sheer terror of going where so so so so so many other men have gone before. 2) With my ex it was fucking, with Pookie, it's making love. Yeah, its freaky to a tee, but it's still making love.

I remember the first time that Pookie and I had sex and I remember the feeling of "this is what making love feels like." I remember how concerned he was and how much we kissed. I remember feeling blissful. Of course there was the awkwardness of the first time two people have sex, but even with that first time awkwardness, I still felt a huge difference. And I've been hooked on his soul ever since.

My cousin's recent death has had me thinking what I'd do if I lost Pookie. I think I'd be in a mental institution. The night after I got the news about my cousin, Pookie went out. I called him about 5 times that night only to make sure that he was okay. Sometimes he gets so irritated when I bug him to let me know that he's coming home. He's blessed enough to have never gotten the news that he'll never see his best friend again. I've had to live that nightmare twice. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Your stomach knots up, your heart races, your mouth gets dry, your mind leaves. You try to digest it that you'll never see your loved one again. Every time you hear a song or think about a certain moment, you cry at the drop of a hat. Pookie is lucky, even though his life hasn't been easy either.

Pookie has good dreams about good times.

I have dreams about dumbasses and I've lived a few nightmares.

Why Can't I Be Great?

The first time I read Kanye's rant on his blog stating "why can't I be great?" I, like the rest of the planet, wanted to strangle him. But the more I think about, the more true it is. It's like people want you to settle for mediocrity, just because that's what they're stuck with. But the moment you start to SHINE, folks want to tell you to sit down. Its's like they want you to feel guilty for being successful and happy.

My 29 years on this planet have been long, painful, and sweet. But despite it all, I think that I've come out okay. Of course I've got my stalkers and detractors, but that's because they're caught up in their own worthlessness and feelings of inadequacy. It's like I'm a magnet for mofos that made poor choices in life, so the only way they can regain any control is to mess up any feelings of peace and serenity that I get.

I should get a t-shirt that says "Friends Wanted- Crazy bitches need not apply." Now don't get me wrong, I do have some homies that are crazy bitches. But they're the good kind of crazy bitch. We all need a crazy bitch that will ride or die. The kind of home girl that would take the witness stand and lie her ass off for you. The kind of woman that when you're in the club and 4 or 5 chicks look like they want a piece of you, even though she knows she might get stomped out, she never leaves your side. I pride myself on being that kind of crazy bitch.

But then there's the OTHER kind of crazy bitch. The bitch that lies for no reason at all. The kind that wants to fuck your man first chance she gets. The one that will tell everyone that your man secretly want her, even though you all know that he's not checking for her wack ass. Those petty hoes that google you, and go onto your blog and make ignorant ass comments because they're so unhappy in their own miserable lives. Yep, crazy bitches.

It's all good though. Because I'm STILL great.

Days

Its amazing how much things can change in a day. In a day children are created. In a day (or several) they are born. And one day, hopefully when the child is way old, they are then gone.
So many changes can encompass my life over the course of a day. I can go from content to pissed off to hurt to apathetic. All in less than a day. I need to work harder for my days to be more productive for me. The problem is that I'm waiting for enough days to pass until things are finally right. How many days will that be? I dunno, there have been so many.
Every day I watch him grow bigger and stronger. I love him so much. I want the world for him. And I'm going to give it to him.
One day.

Falling

Yeah, I erased the other blogs. I put the blog about Erica some where else so they'll still see that when its googled. I took down the blog about that other cunt because frankly she doesn't deserve a whole freaking blog, she's not even worth it.

So anyway, recently, I was invited to be a freelancer with a digital magazine. To say that I was excited about the chance is a vast understatement. I was thrilled. Me. Finally. A writer. And I'd even be paid for it. Not paid very much, but paid none the less. And then to make matters better I told my cousin, Ali, about my being a freelancer for the magazine and he basically told me that the woman that runs the magazine is a cousin of his and in effect, a cousin of mine. Ali also has a website that he then invited me to write for. Even better. Once again, I am a writer. Twice!

As much as I've enjoyed my chance to call myself a writer for the digital mag, I'm finding that if I ran my own digital magazine, I could do things differently. I'd handle business differently and the writing would be different. The whole format would be different. No love lost to the owner of the first mag, I'll still post for her. I just saw a bigger picture in my own vision. So I got together a mental team of the people that would help to make my mag pop off. So far, things are still in the planning stages, but I've got big plans. And I've got two homegirls already down to write. This is gonna be BIG yall!

This morning, I woke up thinking about my time in school. When I started off, I wanted to be an English/Journalism major. But then I changed my major to Business. I found that I didn't like Kennesaw's business program (no love lost to my alma mater) but I finally settled on Communications to get my degree in. How funny is it that all of that moving around caused me to come to the point where I'm ready to put together my own digital magazine? Of course the English course helped with the writing (Dr. Eva Benjamin, you are my IDOL thank you for the love at KSU!) , and the Business courses gave me a good grip on creativity (Ms. Wanda Benjamin, you ROCK!!- thanks for the love at Life University), marketing, and entrepreurship. Last the Communication degree has given me so much insight and input on media (Shouts to Birgit Wassmuth, the head of the Comm Dept at Kennesaw State University, Dr. Chuck Aust, and Dr. Richard Welch).

I can't lie, there were many days that I wanted to give up. It was impossible to get a full time job while I was in school in the middle of the week. Don't get me wrong, of course I did work some professional office jobs, but I spent plenty of time in retail too. I worked a few bookstores also since it correlated so much with my major of Comm. And I made some awesome friends while I was there. Now I'm able to utilize the skills I learned the whole time I was in school to make my education come full circle. How lucky am I?

Yes, this morning it dawned on me that everything that I went through, led me here. When I initially graduated back in May, I had no clue what I wanted to do. I was so desperate for a job, I wanted to do dang near anything and I even considered going back and getting a tech degree. Now here it is a few months later and the chips are stacking for me to do something that I love and to even make a decent living at it doing it. All of the networking that I've done and all of the friends that I've made have had me come here. The chips are stacking nicely. Thank you world.

p.s. to my haters. i got my first article published today. yay me!!
http://kreativesouls.com/?p=2995

Trashy Lingerie, Raunchy Sex, and Vulnerability

Today my friend asked me to come with her to buy some sexy undies that her hubby would appreciate. I've always considered underwear shopping to be the girliest thing on the planet that a women can do together so I jumped at the chance for us to bond over bras and panties.

I actually arrived at Macy's before she did so I walked up the counter and said "Show me something nasty." The sales girls laughed at my bluntness.

My homegirl arrived shortly thereafter and I showed her the bras, panties, short skirts, and hosiery I thought would look nice on her. We looked through it for a while but my friend and I couldn't quite agree on what she should get.

I thought she'd look nice with a sexy lace bra and a skanty (skirt & panty combo) and garter set with some sexy thigh high stockings. My friend wasn't willing to go quite that far in her selection. Personally, I think that when it comes to sexy time with the hubby, there's nothing wrong with taking it to the next level. I wanted to punch my friend in the throat for saying that she's too big to wear the good stuff. She isn't big at all. But she still wanted something more tame.


I reminded her how much her hubby loved that she'd finally put on a few more pounds. I even suggested that perhaps they should take a day to go shopping together so she could know what he likes. She told me that she already knows what he likes, she just doesn't agree with it. The more I suggested that there's nothing wrong with looking like an S-L-U-T, the more she wanted the tamer stuff. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I'd brought my little munchkin and she'd brought her 3-year-old daughter so rather than me managing to say all of the naughty words that I'd normally say, I had to spell and whisper all of the fun words. Do you know how boring a conversation about sex is, when you have to spell out all of the dirty words?

Anyway, I'd started to feel that perhaps my friend's shyness kept her from fully getting dirty. I'm not allowed to really get into my own sex life here {damned censors!!} but I can say that that well, its AWESOME!! And a big part of what makes it awesome is my comfort level with him, and his with me. He thinks I'm lying when I say this, but he really is better than the ex I was with for 10 years. Its better because there's no competition, and I'm free to really enjoy it. Sex isn't a weapon, its a beautiful, dirty, free expression of love. And its GOOD. There's no hiding who and what I am. I can be vulnerable and trust him to love me the way I am. There is something so awesome about two people being able to open up sexually and just let go.

I really wanted my friend to get to that level of comfort with her husband. I knew that if she allowed herself to give more, she just may enjoy it. My personal motto is that I'll try damned near anything once. Its gotten me pretty far already, so maybe it would work for her. Not only that, although I didn't say it, I was thinking it. Y'all know the saying- whatever you won't do in the bedroom for your boo, somebody else will. I didn't want to plant a seed of doubt in my friend's head and make her all self-concious, because honestly, I think her husband is an upstanding, honest husband. He loves her and their child and I can't see him stepping out. But let's be honest here, many men have stepped out for being unfulfilled in their sex lives. I don't want to speculate on their sex life because it could seriously be off the chain. However, if she's afraid to show a little tummy, she's probably holding out in other areas also. I knew that bringing out her inner slut would open up not only her sex life but her level of comfort and her awareness of her own inner beauty.

So now, because I love her, my goal is to make her reach her maximum level of comfort. By making her dress like a W-H-O-R-E.

The Christmas Crunch A.K.A. Why I Pity Jehovah's Witnesses

I, like most people with young children, have begun the process of deciding what toys I want to buy for my little cherub, and trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to pay for it. Pookie, being a tad less traditional than myself, feels that at the age of 2, Caleb is a tad too young for us to go all out. Unfortunately for Pookie, Malika feels that this, being Caleb's third Christmas on this planet, will be the year that we go all out on gifts.
We didn't get a tree last year, and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't heart broken about that. Last year all I'd wanted was a tree and to buy gifts for Pookie and Caleb. I wanted for them to run into the living room and light up at the sight of a beautiful tree and dozens of gifts. Long story short, it didn't happen. And this is the year to redeem myself and my idea of what Christmas is supposed to look like.

I've noticed the commercials that says that Kmart has layaway, and I got excited about that being our potential option for my little pumpkin to get his much deserved December 25th. But then I walked my butt through Kmart, only to discover that, well, Kmart sucks. Seriously, its overpriced, under lit, dirty, the customer service people there look like they're straight out of the prison mental ward and the toy section appears to have been organized into a system that was designed by blind monkeys with down syndrome. Sadly, I still had to leave Kmart open as an option. *sigh*

Anyway, despite what Pookie plans to do (or in his case, not do) this Christmas WILL happen. One woman offered to lend us her plastic tree. That's another option I'm going to have to leave open, since I've really got my heart set on a real tree. I remember the first year that my mother got a plastic tree, and needless to say, Malika the traditionalist wasn't too happy. One of my primary complaints was that the plastic tree lacked that pine smell that filled our home. My moms actually found a spray that smelled exactly like a pine tree. Strange. She did it to make my little spoiled behind happy though. My only other gripe about the plastic tree was that it didn't leave those dang needles in the carpet that would stab your bare feet months after Christmas was long gone. Ah, the memories.

So anyway, yesterday, my roommate's friend came over and brought his son who is about Caleb's age. I chatted it up with the father and asked if he was going to celebrate Christmas, and he told me that no, he wouldn't. I guess he read my expression and explained that he was raised as a Jehovah's Witness and that to him and his family, Christmas is just another day. Don't get me wrong, I respect a person's right to worship or not worship whoever and whatever they want. I'm a borderline atheist myself. But there was something about hearing this man say that he had no intentions of buying his son a bunch of crap on Christmas that made my heart a little heavy. I explained to him that it wasn't just the toys. It was the excitement of seeing the child light up at the sight of all those presents. Its hearing the Temptations Christmas cd playing in the background. Its about the excitement of wrapping those presents. But it just didn't phase him.

Honestly, last year was the first Christmas that I even considered myself to celebrate in 10 years. Once I'd decided to no longer call myself a Christian, I no longer felt it necessary. I wasn't getting along with my family, so I made up reasons to avoid them during the holidays. But once I gave birth to my 10 pound 9.2 ounce angel, I wanted Christmas again. For him. And for me. And for Pookie. We are a family after all. One of the greatest joys I have experienced was last year was when I got Pookie a comforter and sheet set for his bed. Its kind of funny how he always appears to be so unexcited, but for people that really know him, you know how to tell when he's happy. And he was overjoyed.
So this year, I'm going for overjoyed for Caleb and his father. I want a big tree that reeks of pine and needles that get caught in our feet. I want to see Pookie break his back to get our ginormous tree through our front door and I want to hear him curse as he tries to figure out how to get the stupid thing to stand up straight in the stand.
I want Caleb babbling in background as I peck his father on the lips and wish him a Merry Christmas. Jehovah's Witnesses just don't get it.

Am I Becoming a Prude?

Last night, I caught up with a friend that I hadn't talked to in a while. I asked if he'd had any kids and he half-jokingly answered "none that I know of." I replied by stating how strange it is that many men answer the same question, the same way. He then said that he'd be lying if he said that he was sexually responsible in his youth, and I full heartedly agree about my own sexual indiscretions.

For some reason, I've been hearing about some of my friends sex lives lately and all I can think to myself is "SLOW DOWN!!" I may try to sugarcoat what I'm thinking, by calmly explaining that there's no need to drop trow with everyone that winks at you and pronounces your name correctly.

When did this become me? I try to keep a live and let live type of motto, but my freaky friends are getting harder for me not to pass judgement on and it really scares me. Its just that I care so much for my friends that I don't want any of them to get STD's or I don't want yet another female friend that hates her baby daddy. Condoms break and its possible to get herpes even with a condom.

I'm all for getting down and dirty with one person. I'm proud to say that my sex life couldn't be better, yet I've decided that once Pookie and I separate, I plan to go on a dating hiatus for a long while. I may still fool around with Pookie, and I may not. If he and I don't continue to fool around with him, I'll just have to put sex on hold. Its not that big of an issue. IT'S JUST SEX!!! I understand hormonally charged teenagers wanting to hump and be humped by everything they see, but for adults to be so wound up over getting their rocks off truly baffles me.

I guess their mentality is that of, if I want it, I'll have it and there's nothing wrong with that, because I am an adult. I feel like a parent pulling this one out, but here it goes anyway-

"Not everything that is good to you is good for you."

While I don't want to tell another adult how to run their life, I don't know how much longer I can be silent on the issue. Hearing my girlfriends spill the beans on how much they appreciate good dick and if some clown on the first date wants to give it up, then that's cool. Or another friend that religiously hops from relationship to relationship (part of me thinks its because he doesn't know how to be alone but that's for another blog), and he recently told me that after his recent breakup, he "just wants some pussy." *sigh* I offered to him that perhaps he should just stop having sex for a second and focus on making things right in other parts of his life. You'd have thought I said he should bite off his own right arm by the way he responded to that statement. He couldn't even explain why he needed sex, he just wanted it.

I've seen so many of my friends make major mistakes based on loose penis and cootchies. I've seen homegirls fall out, I've seen mother's neglect their children, I've seen marriages break up, I've seen people nearly fired, I've seen fights, scratched up cars, and broken hearts, all because of ass.

The funny thing is that now that I think about it, sex is almost like a drug for these people. If someone was constantly talking about how they had to get high, the world would suggest to them that they have a problem. Yet someone can constantly fiend for sex, and not enough people are willing to care enough to say "put the pussy DOWN!" Although truthfully, I don't think these people are sex fiends, they simply choose not to listen their grown up voice that tells them to go to sleep without an orgasm.

Perhaps I'm getting older. Maybe I am getting a tad more prudish- scratch that. I'm a grown woman now and I'm starting to understand the real meaning of responsiblity. Responsibility means that you don't have to hump somebody just because the opportunity presents itself. I don't want to judge or down my friends, I'd just like them to respect their bodies to the point where they don't feel it necessary to lay down with every idiot they come across. Is that too much to ask?

Wait For Love

I'm such a gemini. In the same breath that I can say I love my son's father, I can say that I hate him. The fact of the matter is that before I got with him, I was with my ex for 10 years. Between my 3 years with the man who is my best friend 50% of the time (that would be Caleb's daddy) and my ex, what I've come to see is that I'm truly okay being alone. Many of my girlfriends tell me not to give up on the prospect of being with pookie, but its relieving and freeing for me to not feel it necessary to fight for something that may or may not meant to be. God only knows how hard I tried to fight to hold on to my ex, and (thankfully) we see how that turned out. And after my ex, I got with another man that I tried desperately to make things work with. So far, we've managed to become friends and to have a wonderful child. Truthfully, I'm okay with the progress we've made. Yes we stumble, but as parents and as friends, we are a constant work in progress.

So anyway, to throw a wrench into my constantly trying to be a mature person, my ex's crazy baby mama has popped back up. This chick calling me at this point is laughable. I truly don't want my ex. I've moved on with my life, I have a child with another man, I live with said man, I've graduated college. My goals and my future are all focused around my son. So what does this tacky skeezer want? Same shit, different day. Dude is messing around, she's pissed and she wants sympathy from and drama with me. This crazy ho even had the nerve to tell me that she'd screwed her man's best friend in an attempt to make him leave, but he stayed with her which showed how dedicated he is to her (WTF?! where I come from, that makes you a HO, not someone's main chick, but I digress). Stupidly for the first day, I argued back. I told my big sis about it, and big sis went to town on it. For yall that don't know, my big sister is the original "pit bull in a skirt." Yeah, we'd had our issues in the past, but my Cousin's passing brought me and my sisters back together. But anyway, my sis lit her up. Sis reminded her of what a dumbass loser she is and my sis also reminded the baby mama that she's been babysitting this dude for the last 13 years and that nobody wanted him but her. We also had to remind her that if dude hasn't married her after 13 years and a kid, he sure as hell isn't going to. My sister said a bunch of other mean things to her, but the crazy bitch isn't even worth me repeating it. Since saying what needed to be said, my sis has pretty much blocked her and ignored her. My sister and I are truly bonding over the experience of putting this silly slut in per place.

Moving on, this whole thing has made me truly see what a peaceful place I'm in spiritually and mentally. Its such an awesome feeling to know that I'm not waiting for someone to drop down on one knee. Somedays, I truly don't even think that I want to be married. In my heart I now realize that if it isn't good love, it isn't worth it. If you have to call and argue with other women, if you have to scrutinize someone's every move, if you spend over a decade together and you still aren't getting along, its not love, it's a fucked up relationship. It's co-dependency. It's sad. It's pathetic.

Today, while riding in the car, one of my favorite songs came on, the song "Wait for Love" by Luther Vandross. Its amazing how I'd ignored this song as it played on the slow oldies stations for many years, but one day, its chorus caught me and I realized how truthful Luther was being.

"I never stopped believing

there could one day be a chance

for me to

Get the love that I've been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

But, wait for love and you're gonna get the

Chance to love - wait for love, wait for love"

In his infinite wisdom, Luther was dead on. Its time to stop rushing it and let it find you. Learn to be happy alone and stop letting a man define you. Today while I was in the car jamming to Luther and expounding on my own greatness, I saw a motorcycle ahead of me. A motorcycle wreck is how Jarronn died. That motorcycle reminded me of the love that Jarronn had for Jessica. My eyes watered when looking at it. I really miss my cousin. But I think that seeing that motorcycle while listening to that particular song, was Jarronn's way of reminding me that love doesn't hurt and there's no need to hurry along what is supposed to be a beautiful process. By the way, Jessica has been writing a blog to chronicle her time since Jarronn's loss. I recommend it, highly. You can find it at www.jessicaliving.blogspot.com she's been posting daily so far. Its really inspirational.

I love knowing that I'm happy in my own skin and that I'm glad to be ready to get and land on my feet so I can live alone again and get to spend time alone with Malika to rediscover her since she's grown up so much recently. I love the progress I've made as a friend, a mother, a lover, a writer, and a fighter. Yay me.

"Put a Ring On It"- SHUT THE F*CK UP!!!

Recently while making my local blog rounds, I came across a post on Bossip about first date nonos. Many women were saying how they hate it when men don't pay on the first date. I commented on how on me and Pookie's first date, we stopped at a gelato spot and I had to pay for our gelatos because the place we were at didn't accept cards, which was all he had. He kept saying that we could run by an atm so he could pay me back and I told him not to worry about it. He's now the father of my child, he pays all of the bills, and his financial support helped me to graduate college. Two days from now will actually be the three year anniversary of our first date.

And what did I get for my words of wisdom about not judging a man harshly based on his perceived finances? I got chickenheads asking me if we're married. Actually to quote them, they wanted to know if he'd "put a ring on it," suggesting that things couldn't be that good if we're not married. Despite my many issues with Pookie, I truly love him with all of my heart. Do I want to marry him? No. Do I want to marry anyone? NO.

I respect Beyonce for her little tune about "putting a ring on it" however I'm so sick of people suddenly acting like a relationship isn't valid if two people haven't made it official for the government. The parents of one of my dearest friends have been together nearly 30 years, they own a home together and they are two of the kookiest and most fun and functional in a relationship people that I think I've ever seen. I've got another friend whose mother was married before, but after her divorce, she's got a good boyfriend who's strong, loyal, great to her kids, wonderful around the house. They live together. And they have no intention of getting married. My own mother was married twice, once to my father. My father and her next husband were total assholes. Her new man treats her the way a man should treat a woman. He literally caters to her. He even sends my son clothes sometimes. And he and my mom have no intention of getting hitched.

A few years ago when I was 19, I met a local radio personality who was trying to sleep with me. Did I mention that he was about 35 years old with a wife and child at home? I finally told him that I couldn't sleep with him and he gave me some lame line about him not being attracted to me because of my weight. Of course he never mentioned a problem with my weight until I told him that I wasn't going to fuck him. The loser just had to protect his ego. Funny enough, I've seen his wife out and about and you couldn't tell her that her shit didn't stink. The reason I didn't sleep with him was because he had a woman at home and all I could think was what a blow it would be to her ego for her for her man to be screwing some teenager. So I walked away. But he was a LOUSE.

I've got another homegirl who found out that her husband had cheated on her after her gynecologist told her that she had chlymdia. My father has cheated on his current wife over and over again, but frankly she's too naive and scared to believe it. Its crazy that I'm only his daughter and I know when he's out "working" until 1 in the morning, that he's getting his d*ck wet, yet his wife doesn't realize that. I heard about another homegirl that got wifed up, and she's having drama with her husband's baby mama because he's still screwing her. But she's the one he put a ring on.

Now I'm not saying all of this to say that I'm anti-marriage. I think that marriage is a beautiful and wonderful institution, when its entered into by two dedicated people that are willing and most importantly, ready, to make that leap. However, just because two people are married doesn't not make them happy. God only knows how much I love the father of my son, and I truly don't think that any woman could ever love him as much as I do. I've seen that man on his best days, and I've seen him on his worst days. I know what a bastard he really is at heart, and I love his inner bastard as much as I love the man that comes home and cooks dinner so we can have family movie night. I believe our bond is strong. It's obviously got it's imperfections. Are we any less serious because we're not married? Not at all. Our lack of marriage simply says that we realize that we probably aren't made to be together forever. But while we're together right now, we're a family unit that's continuing to work on our problems. The man was married before and we all know how that turned out.

All I'm saying is that a relationship should be judged, based on the commitment that two people have to one another, not just on a ceremony that people put on.

On a side note, I recently lost my cousin, Jarronn Jackson. Jarronn was only 29 years old. Jarronn got married back in mid May. He married a beautiful woman. Our last phone conversation, I mentioned to him how difficult relationships are. And Jarron told me how his relationship to his wife was simply effortless, which is how he knew she was the one. Less than three months after his wedding, he's gone. But I'll always remember the way he talked so lovingly about his wife and how happy they were. Jarronn showed me what marriage is supposed to look and feel like. Frankly, I don't have that with Pookie. But I love him just the same. But I don't see myself marrying a man if I don't see him being as excited about a relationship as Jarronn was. So I'd prefer to say that its not going to happen and later be surprised, rather than to hold out for something as effortless as Jarron and Jessica, and have it not happen. Jarronn loved Jessica with all of his heart before they got married. And I know he loves her with all of his heart from heaven.

I'll miss you Jarronn. Please hug my loved ones for me. And even though you're gone, I plan to hold to my promise to name my next child after you!!!

Please pray for me and my family.

DON'T TELL ME HOW I FEEL DAMMIT!!

the other night i decided to stop in and visit an old friend that i'd lost contact with. he worked at pleaser's strip club as a bouncer. things were well and good as we laughed about old times and caught up with one another. we talked about how i, of all people, became a mother and our wild times hanging out all night. he even laughed at me for saying that i was sleepy when it hit 3 a.m., comparing it to how i once drove him to tennesee on a wim and we didn't make it back until 6 a.m. well anyway, we decided to go to waffle house after he got off to discuss our lives even further. and then it started.
we discussed my time with david. i told him that i enjoy pissing off david's baby mama, because she no longer has the power to affect me, but i have so much power to piss her off. after all of the shit she did to me when i tried to be cool with her back in the day, i see no problem with me screwing with her head. my friend goes into this long tirade of how i'm not happy and she controls me, etc. my friend said that i've no longer got the same smile i used to. he claimed that i'm not loving. he said that the smile that was permanently spread across my face a few years ago is gone. i told him that now people have to work for my smile.
i tried to explain to him that no, i'm not the same weak, silly malika that was easily manipulated. before i had my son i gave so much of myself to so many people. i've let people crash on my couch, i've fed people, i've given people money. and in return when i was pregnant, broke and desperate, those same people gave their asses to kiss. so i built a wall. those of yall within my wall get to experience the silly and loving me that has always been there. everyone else can burn in hell. and i'm HAPPY with this progress. for the first time in my life i feel like i'm in control of my surroundings. for the first time in my life i've developed standards. i expect the people around me to be as loyal to me as i am to them. and i don't see a damned thing wrong with that.
so imagine how pissed i was when i explained myself and my "friend" kept twisting my words. i said to him that i'm happy, and he said to me, no you're not. and then i said "why can't you just be happy for me because i'm happy?" he replied with "i believe that you believe you're happy" which was another fucking slap in the face. he even went so far as to say that i'm not loving anymore, to which i took even more offense. i responded that i'm EXTREMELY loving that for the people i love, i'll take a bullet. he told me to make a loving statement. i said "deen is the best thing to ever happen to me" and he responded that wasn't a loving statement and that i should have said that my son is the best thing to ever happen to me. i responded that i tell my son all of the time that he's the most important thing in my world. under pressure i'd said deen since we had been talkin to him all night. the truth of the matter is that deen AND caleb are the center of my universe. my family is my reason for living. not loving, my ass.
i'm 29 years old, for the love of god. no body knows me better than me. there are plenty of people that don't know who and what they want and who and what they are. i'm not one of them. i was so emotionally drained when i left him last night. i was fuming the whole way home. i can't believe that i felt it necessary to defend my feelings. i got my friend's new number but i'm so pissed off after last night, i really don't know if i'm going to call him again. just because i'm not the same happy-go-lucky chick that he met some years ago, doesn't make me a robot. i've evolved. i got my ass kicked my life and i learned how to fight back. i'm happy being me. and anybody that doesn't like or believe my happiness can KICK ROCKS.

What Michael Jackson's Death Meant to the Black Community

June 25th is a day that will live in infamy for many of us. I was watching television when someone came on and said that Michael Jackson had been rushed to the hospital. I rolled my eyes and told myself that this was one of his stunts and then I got on the internet to look it up. We all know that MJ was a bit of a drama king, so most people were in watch & see mode. I kept switching back and forth to Twitter, Facebook, & TMZ. I knew it was bad when CNN was outside of the hospital to. And then I saw it on TMZ-

R.I.P. MICHAEL JACKSON.

My head hurt. My body ached. I cried hard. I sobbed like I'd gotten the call that one of my best friends had died. I wanted to throw up. My family actually called to offer me condolences. It was surreal. Someone that was a part of my life since I can remember was gone. No more. My stomach hurts just writing this.

Since the death of Michael Jackson, needless to say, there's been constant media attention. But beneath the media attention people are still hurting and crying. Many of us still have a hard time making it through a full Michael Jackson song without breaking down. What's pissing me off the most is how so many Whites are saying that MJ was just a man and that he's dead so move on already. I'm not saying that Michael didn't deeply impact so many people of so many different races. We've all seen the concert footage of people of all races passing out on top of one another. What I'm saying is that the people that were obviously not MJ fans, are ready to crap on this man's legacy and they feel that he's not worth the accolades and praise that we're giving him. If I hear or see one more person write "You're not related to him" I'm going to punch someone. The fact of the matter is that MJ has been in many of our hearts for decades. He was around at every barbeque and family reunion and countless parties and night clubs. He many not have been there physically, but his spirit lifted us up in our darkest hours. I don't know anyone that can listen to "Wanna Be Startin' Something" without shouting and clapping "Mama-Say-Mama-Sa-Mama-Cu-Sa!!!" by the end of the song. No matter who you are and what you're doing, by the end of that song you're dancing, singing, and shouting like you're at the deepest backwoods Southern church. And admit it, you LOVE it.

I understand that some people may not have embraced MJ the way that Black America did. We not only embraced him, we loved him. He was in the hearts and minds of many Black Americans. For a long time men wanted to be him, and women wanted to be with him. We knew that he had faults, because no one is perfect. He was quirky and sometimes downright weird. But he was our brother and we will always honor and respect him.

So I say to White America, there will be plenty of time for the news to focus on Iraq and cheating governors that leave the country to screw around. BFD if we want to take a few days or even weeks to grieve the loss of the greatest entertainer to ever live (take that Elvis!). If the world can stop spinning when Kurt Cobain dies, other folks need to leave us to grieve as a community. Michael Joseph Jackson inspired us to Heal the World. He was front and center for to remind us that We Are the World. He brought together many weddings and bar mitzphas with renditions of the Thriller dance. The man was Bad. You don't have to love or even like Michael Jackson, but for those of us that were impacted by his music and will continue to love and miss him, give us the respect of letting us grieve. Cuz God only knows how many of y'all are gonna cut the fool when Madonna drops dead.

I HATE YOU!!

yes you!!! I HATE YOU!!! i blame you!!! hate is a very strong emotion, i know that. yet i hate your ass. you have no idea how many times i've sat around hoping and praying that you drop dead any day now of hypertension, high blood pressure, or diabetes or anything else that you deserve to get. i'll settle for a random bus to run you over or you saying the wrong thing to the wrong mother fucker and someone cutting your ass up. you've fucked up so many lives yet you're too fucking arrogant to ever realize that. well he's fucked up and i blame your ass for that. trust me, i'll be there after your ass is long gone. go complain, that's what you do because you're too fucking weak to accept that you really are the waste of skin that i know you are. go complain, i'll continue to do me no matter how much you go crying to him. you may have many people fooled, but you don't fool me.

I'M WAITING FOR YOUR ASS TO DIE!!!

My Golden Rule

I can be a bit practical. I try to live my life by rules that I came to develop as I grew up observing other people's relationships. As I'd mentioned in a previous blog, I wasn't one of the pretty girls in my clique of high school home girls. No, sadly I was the fat girl that observed from the sidelines. So while they learned by doing, I learned by watching and hearing them bitch about their problems. Its funny thinking back on it, but at the time, being the girl that men weren't checking for stung like hell. The good thing for me was that even though I wasn't dating, I had plenty of guy friends and my guy friends were kind enough to school me on the ways that men operate.

One of my guy friends was also the boyfriend of one of my best friends. He and I would sit on the phone for hours just talking about life, relationships and the whole bit. I dubbed him my play brother. And my best friend hated it. One day he and I were on the phone for nearly 3 hours. (Stupidly) I called a mutual friend of me and the girlfriend and professed to her that I'd just had an awesome conversation with this guy. In all honesty, it was all love. As I said before I "reeked of virgin" so this guy wouldn't ever put that much time into trying to get with me. But we did have a great bond. When his girl friend found out, she was LIVID. Apparently she and another friend had been on the phone trying to will him to call her (because goodness forbid she call him first) while the whole time he'd been on the phone laughing it up with me. My best friend did what any girl friend would have done and demanded that my friendship with her dude end. By that point he and I had bonded so much that I was heartbroken by the ultimatum. He suggested that we stop talking as much, but remain cool and just not let old girl know that we were still folks. She and he eventually stopped talking for one stupid reason or another and she and I are still best friends over 10 years later.

Anyway, a couple years after that, I had a boyfriend and I was on the other side of the coin. My best friend and my boyfriend became cool. Fast forward 10 years and she and he are friends, she and his baby mama (my sworn enemy- a pill popping crack whore) are best friends. Her best friend, my sworn enemy, told her that we aren't allowed to be friends. A grown ass woman stopped talking to me because her friend was jealous. When the dude I was dating and my (at the time) best friend became buddies I tried to stop it because I knew where it would lead. Jealousy, rumors, speculation, bad looks. He knew I didn't want him to be buddies with my homegirl, so he pursued it just because that's the kind of world class douche bag he is. So the more I wanted them to not be cool, the cooler they became. They are now pretty much extended family.

That and some other things I went through came to led me live my life by a very strict code: friends, my man, my family and my job are to mix in no terms. EVER. By that I mean that my family couldn't hang with my dude and become best friends with him, I'd never work with my man, my friends can't hang with my co-workers. Basically no intermingling of those 4 aspects of my life and I will die or kick ass to keep it from happening.

Don't get me wrong, one of my homegirls can come to the house and chill with me and my son's father any day. Deen once gave my homegirl $20 to pay the last bit of her rent. But if we discovered that they had mutual interests and suddenly she wanted to start hanging over to talk about comic books and the movie "Heavy Metal" I'd quickly nip that shit in the bud. I wouldn't want my sisters calling my dude to talk about their relationship problems. In high school my little sis was in middle school while trying to hang out with MY friends and that took a toll in my house and in my friendships. I was once stupid enough to work with my best friend (yet another chick- its funny how many best friends i've been through- I do have a constant set of friends though). My (former) best friend was a jealous pathelogcial liar that tried her best to get me hired on to try later to get me fired (shit got so bad, I quit). She turned my coworkers against me and to this day most of them still don't talk to me and I don't even know what lie(s) she told them to make them hate me. So because of that I don't want my man, my friends or my family up in my stuff at work.

I know some people think my golden rule is insane and/or paranoid, but I've realized that it really is best to keep everything separate. When folks start mixing things get complicated. I don't want to fall out with someone in one section and expect someone else to be brought into the middle. Loyalty is very important to me and I know how hard it is to be loyal when you've developed a bit of a connection to both parties. So the best thing to do is to make sure that no connection is ever started. Call me what you want, but I know how to keep drama to a minimum.

there is no bad hair- please let me prove it

today was the birthday party of my little sister, karah. the birthday party was at a place called "leaping lizards" which consisted of a bunch of blow up bounce houses for children to play on. the circle that my stepmother and father run in is the uber new parents. most of them are older educated people, many of which waited until they were over 35 to have their first child. needless to say, the whole damned clique is nothing but soccer moms in mini vans. my stepmother is white, my father is black, and many of the couples in the soccer mom clique are also biracial, and some of the children are even adopted. theirs is a scene where its not hard to know who belongs where if you pay attention long enough.

today at the party, i observed two dark skinned girls that may have been about 7 or 8 years old. they seemed happy and healthy as they giggled and shared cake and pizza with one another. the one thing that struck a slight cord with me was their hair. it looked- well HIDEOUS. knowing this particular circle, i quickly deduced that the older white woman that kept coming to check on the girls was probably their adopted mother. their hair- oh the horror. one girl had a head band on, and her hair was (and i'm not exaggerating or making this up) literally one big nap. i mean seriously, her hair looked like it was all locking together. the other girl's hair was parted (badly) into six small afro poofs that were tied down with pink barrettes. and while it looked like there was at some point an attempt to style her hair, it too was long past needing some upkeep. their hair had absolutely no moisture. i knew the girls were African and their hair texture was tough, but there was no reason at all for these young girls to come out of the house with their heads uncombed for what seriously looked like a month or two.

i don't want to seem like i'm just being shallow and thinking "god they look a hot mess" because honestly, they looked clean from head to toe. they also had (what i'm assuming was) a brother with them, and he was clean and his head had a nice low, neat haircut. i tried to think of nice diplomatic ways to strike up conversation with their mother about hair conditioning products and the best kind of afro comb and hair pick to tackle their manes. i thought of the "just for me" comb in conditioner and a good afro pick and then an afro comb to completely fluff them out. the one in the head band would have had a beautiful crowning fluffed out fro and the other one could have gotten her hair into two cute afro puffs. if their mother would have even asked, i would have had no problem going over there to wash comb, and even braid their hair myself. i just found that it was so unfair for the girls to look so bad just because their mother obviously wasn't aware of how to properly care for their hair.

i've been natural for about 8 years and i remember what a challenge it was for me to learn how to care for my own hair once i'd cut the perm out. suddenly moisturizers and conditioners were so much more important. those cutesy little rat tail combs were only used for parting my hair, because they sure as hell weren't going to tackle my naps. the fact is, very few people even know how to properly care for natural black hair. and i guess that why i felt so sorry for the little girls. i wouldn't have suggested to perm their hair, but i would love to share my knowledge and experience of how to properly care for their tresses.

i asked my stepmother about the girls and she confirmed that they were adopted and that their adopted mother was a missionary that met the girls on a trip to Africa. she also said that the girls go back to Africa for a year and then come back to the states to live for a year. when i asked her the best way to approach the girls' mother about hair care, my stepmother suggested that i not. she told me that she has another friend with an adopted black child and any time anyone suggests a way to fix the child's hair she grows defensive. (WTF?!) why even adopt a child if you're not going to be willing to do everything possible to make sure they're properly groomed? anyway, i commend their adopted mother's attempt at keeping the girls close to their roots (no pun intended). but one thing i've seriously learned is that white people truly don't understand how big of a thing hair is in the black community. even on the continent of Africa, hair is decorated in elaborate and beautiful ways. to let their hair look so bad was not only an embarrassment, it could even be seen as disrespectful.

by that point, i looked around i think the girls had left with their mother already anyway. frankly, if i'd have gotten into a conversation with their mother, i don't think i could have resisted the urge to suggest dax, hair food, bonner brothers, African pride, tcb, or sta-sof-fro for the girls. my brain isn't wired to shut up when it comes time to help defenseless children. sorry, that's just how i roll.

i hope that when the girls go back to Africa, the second they step off the plane someone snatches those girls up and washes, picks, combs and braids the hell out of their heads. because they are innocent little girls and they deserve to look pretty too.