Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Man, I've been wanting to blog for a while now, but I'm up to three jobs now so writing tends to fall between the cracks. My life has changed a lot in 6 months. For starters, Fred is still in LA and I haven't seen him since. He may be coming back to visit Atlanta soon, but for now, we remain distant friends.

The most major change is having my own spot. It feels good to finally have my own place. No worries about who leave what where (although I've got my nephew staying with me and I feel bad about riding his butt to make sure that my place doesn't fall to crap). I wasn't always the neatest child, so I'm trying hard to make sure that this place serves as proof that I'm not a total slob and that I'm able to have a home that isn't covered in filth. So far, so good.

Pookie and I are doing pretty well. He's got a chick or two and I'm at the point where I seriously, truly, don't care. It took a while to get to this point, but it was aided along by me falling for another man that I'll call Chris. I met Chris at a friend's party this summer. I fell hard for him. And like other men that I've fallen hardest for, he was a total jerk 50% of the time. But still, I managed to adore that other 50%. When he wants to be, Chris is funny, intelligent, and can make you feel like the center of the universe. Other times he's cheap, childish and manipulative. Remind me of anyone? Damn right it does. We broke things off for a while. I'm glad for that break because it allowed me to fall back and see him for who and what he really is. We still deal with eachother at times, but this time around I'm only giving what I'm getting. I know that he misses the old me that adored him and cherished him but I've wasted too much of my life on men that don't give me what I deserve. I'm actually thankful for my ex David at this point, because Chris reminds me a lot of him. So although my heart is partly in it, I know to keep my distance and walk away if I need to.

Also I haven't slept with him lately. The sex with him was pretty good, but he made a promise to treat me the first night we got together, which he hasn't done yet. So I'm refusing to sleep with him until he comes through. He's pissed to know that he gets no more of the good stuff until I get something in return, but I'm past the point of caring. Truthfully, I'm not really feeling anyone right now. I met a guy a few weeks ago and it was nice to hear him call me pretty and all, but I told myself that if he was serious, he'd call me. He didn't. I haven't lost a wink of sleep.

Like I said, Pookie and I are cool, but I'm feeling us moving past one another. I'm strangely okay with that. For the first time in my life, I really, truly, honestly, want to be alone. I see attractive men often and I'm happy with a simple flirt before I move on with my day. I feel so light and free to not be worried about men and their lies and whatnot. For the first time, I'm free to focus on the most important people in my life - me and my son. This feels GOOD.

Although I was leaning toward grad school, I've since decided against it. I'm considering going to vocational school for something else though. I've told myself that I've got to have a more firm grip on my career by my birthday this year, in June. I've got a pretty good idea of what I want to do, so fingers crossed.

Otherwise, things are pretty good over on my end. Dare I say, they're great. I'm happier and more at peace than ever before. Yay me.

p.s. I know I said 6 months ago that I'd start writing before, but I mean it this time. For real, I want to start blogging again. I miss this. I own this.

It's Been a While

Man, has it really been 3 months since I've blogged? Gosh, time really flies. Things are pretty good. I've thought long and hard about and I've decided that it would be best if Pookie and I parted ways. In November, I don't know where I'll be living, but my son and I will be on our own for the first time in 4 years. I'm actually pretty excited about it.

I've also started dating a little. I forgot how shitty the dating scene is. Fred and I are no longer at it. We're really good friends actually. He's in LA, doing his thing. I miss him. I hope he's back by next weekend to celebrate my birthday with me. I spend a lot of my time with Daisy and Portia although my other besties Courtney and Nika are never too far away.

I'm in a strange state of figuring myself out. I gained back some of the weight I'd lost which means I gotta haul ass that much more. The awesome thing is that jogging is pretty easy now and my gym is across the street so I've just got to make it more of a priority. I guess I'm in a strange state of being. I've been a social worker for a year and a half now and to say that I'm burned out would be the ultimate understatement. I'm ready for an office job where I get home and I don't have to worry about notes or get calls about the issues people have. I care about the kids and families I work with, but the paperwork is kicking my ass and I'm starting to feel like I've got my own problems, so I'm tired of trying to be superwoman to everyone else.

Yeah, no real theme other than updating the world. Sorry to have been gone so long. I promise I'll do better. I missed writing.

Malika

Malika, the Slutty Prude

So lately I've fallen in love with Rihanna's song "S&M". I whip my hair and sensually rub my hands up and down my body as I dance around to it and feel every syllable of the lyrics. I hop my jiggly ass all over the room and swish my locks as I imagine karaoking to the song and seducing some random hottie.  I had the pleasure of listening to one of my kids tell me what a slut Rihanna is for the song. In the meantime, I'd been wrestling with the idea of adding it to my list of theme songs and I've since made it the first in my jogging playlist on my iPod.

Today I told my bestie about a crush I've developed on a coworker. Although I have no plans to do anything with him, he's still a total babe and someone I enjoy drooling over to my friends. I told bestie how hot the guy is and how since I've been bumping S&M like there's no tomorrow. Somehow I ended up telling her a story about how a few years back I walked up on some gay coworkers that had a conversation. I naively asked what they were discussing, only to be told "lube." I quickly walked my ass away and refused to look back. I ran away from that discussion like white suburbanites run away from an influx of black and Mexican neighbors. My bestie then remarked how crazy it is that I happen to be a total slut while being a total prude.

For a moment I thought, "I'm not a slut." But then, I thought about it, and I just shrugged. I mean, I'm not a "slut." I don't have sex with random guys. Most of the men I've been with, if we weren't dating, we were at least good friends and they were (mostly) polite and gentlemen. But then my bestie reminded me of my tendency to kiss "random" guys, which is what led to the slut moniker. She's right. I totally like kissing. If I talk to a guy and he's cute and I'm feeling it, I'll probably kiss him and not think much of it. The fact that I'm okay being labeled a slut in itself says that I'm a bit too comfortable with my sexuality.

I realized that my bestie Daisy has been with me and seen me kiss a total of three different guys. In my defense though, one of those guys was during a game of Truth or Dare. The other was a guy that we'd met that happened to be a friend of my former crush Kelsy Davis. After a show of Kelsy's, we went back a friend's loft, the guy and I shared a chair and I leaned over and planted on one him. Another time, we were at her home and I grabbed another guy on the way out and planted one on him. In my defense though, I'd known him for a long time, so I don't feel like that kiss counted, but whatever.

Another time I was out with my friend Nicole and were at the famous MJQ. I'd known one of the bouncers for a while and for some reason, I planted one on him. I don't know why. He was there, I was looking hot, and I wanted it. Later on she said "did you kiss him?" My reply? With a shrug of my shoulders I said "yep." Truthfully, I've kissed over 100 men. I know it's horrible. There have been guys that looked me in the eye and remarked about a fantastic kiss that I'd planted on them years ago. And I don't remember it at all. I want so badly to say to some guys "Jesus dude, do you know how many guys I've kissed?" but that would make me sound like a bit of a whore, so I just go along and make them feel good. *briefly lowers head in shame, but quickly recovers*

My friend actually marveled at my ability to kiss any man that I'm moderately attracted to, while barely knowing his name. The crazy thing is that for me, it seems natural to the point where I don't understand why people get so uptight about it. I mean seriously, it's just a kiss, not blowjob. What's the big deal?

Strangely enough, for me to supposedly be a huge freak, I don't even masturbate. Seriously. If I'm going through a dry spell, I wait it on out. Rubbing on myself just doesn't do it for me. I also don't just have sex with random dudes, despite the constant nagging rumors about me doing with with any old guy. Truthfully, the overwhelming majority of the men I've slept with have been great friends to me. In my youth some of them were bastards, but since then I've learned to be a lot more selective. But when I do get it on...

Anyway, so apparently I'm known as a total slut because of my uncanny ability to give my luscious lips to damned near anyone and have no emotional attachment at all. But I'm also comfortable with my own sensuality a little too much for the comfort of some. Not like I give a damn though. I'm a kissing whore and I've learned to own it. You're just jealous cuz you aren't one too.

His Mother is Gone

I have a friend named Kevin. I've known Kevin since I was 15. I refer to him as my brother. We've shared the most intimate details of our lives and he even just got me a job at the pet store where he works. This is our first time in our lives getting to physically spend this much time together. I love getting to see my brother so often. Kevin and I have always had a bond where we know everything and we get through most of our bad moments by laughing at one another. Seriously. He could write a book about the dumb shit I've done.

My brother just lost his mother. She died this evening after a lengthy illness. I don't know what to say. Of course I'll try to hold down the fort at work while he's gone (as if I have that power), but I just want to take away his pain. I saw a picture of his mother that he posted on his Facebook page. I looked at her and told her that I'll take care of him while she's gone. She responded by telling me that she knows I will. I feel that she's a peace. She's reuniting with loved ones from her past. I feel her being happy. She's free. I'm happy for her, because I feel that her whole body was falling apart and she was ready to go. When I think that he is ready to hear it, I'll pass it on to him. But for now, I just want to heal my brother.

I want to go to him and tell him that she's in a better place. I reminded him to be strong, because he's always been the rock in his family. But even though Kevin is on the other side of town, I can feel his spirit from here and I know that he's falling apart. I can feel his stomach aching. I feel him being dizzy and light headed. I feel that his wife is trying her best to be supportive. I know he's being silent, not knowing what to say. My body, my heart, and my spirit ache for my brother. His mother is gone. And none of my stupid jokes or funny stories can help him.

(s/n I was about to post the picture he just posted of her, but she told me that she didn't want her picture posted, so I chose this one instead)

Sigh... I'm Back

As all two of my loyal readers may know, I'd left. And I fully intended to stay gone. I was pissed and hurt and a bunch of stuff. I'd even set up another blog elsewhere. But I talked to Fred, and despite many of my friends telling me to stick to what I love (which would be my blog) he was the one that told me to forget the dumb shit and to do what makes me happy. I missed my blog. I'm not really going to bore the world with the goings on that I've been through so far. But I'm looking forward to being back.

I'm Done... The End of an Era

After the last few times my blog was scrutinized and infiltrated I swore that I wouldn't stop the show for anything or anyone. Well, I was wrong. I'm stopping it now. I dunno, perhaps I'll reemerge with a new blog and a pseudonym later, but for now I, Malika S. Flowers have had my space, my thoughts, my mind, and my heart violated by sharing my innermost thoughts, for the very last time. I am thankful to the friends that I've made along the way (Kingsmomma and Stefanie are my internet fam!) and thankful to the personal friends that cared enough to stop in and share my incredible journey with me. I've been beaten down and I've been victorious. But the time has come for me to do something different, somewhere else. Thanks for the continued love and support.

With love,
Malika S. Flowers



p.s. Feel free to hit me up on Facebook or drop me an email.

Goodbye John

I used to work as a concierge at an apartment complex. I loved my residents and many of them became like family to me. There was one man in particular that stood out to me. His name was John. John worked at BellSouth and always drove his truck home. Many times on his way up to his apartment he'd stop and say hello. There were times that John and I would talk for hours on end. Literally. He'd stand for nearly my whole shift as we laughed and talked about music.

John was a drummer and taught his son drumming. His son is now one of the world's most renowned drummers, John Blackwell Jr. Junior had played for Gladys Knight, Prince, and from what I just read on the internet, he still plays with Prince at times, but now plays with Maze and Frankie Beverly. John Sr. Was always really charming and a total gentleman. He wanted me to meet his son, but the day he was in town, I had a scheduling conflict. He'd tell me hilarious stories about his childhood and his brother Ernest he told me fascinating things about his whole family.

I regretted not staying in touch with him after I left and I even tried a few times to find him. I never succeeded. But I did manage to get news through a friend of mine that was a drummer who followed John Jr. He told me that Jr.'s daughter (Sr.'s grand daughter), Jia had died after a freak drowning in Chicago. My heart ached for him and again, to no avail, I tried to find him, hoping he'd still lived in Atlanta.

Last night, while hanging with my friend, Greg (the drummer) I learned that John Sr. had died. I'm not sure what the cause was, but I know that he'd had a few heart attacks previously. He was only 61 years old. Funny enough, the older I get, the younger 61 sounds. Especially when it's someone as full of life as John. We used to talk about our favorite singers and we shared a love of the Temptations. He told me that he once listened to "You're My Everything" by the Temps the whole way from South Carolina back to Atlanta. He told me the artists that he'd played with and spoke so highly of his son.

I don't know, I guess I thought I had so much more time to find John and reconnect. I was even thinking a few days ago that I may actually make it to the New Year without losing anyone that I knew. That would have been a first since I was 14 years old. I guess I was wrong. I just sent John Jr. a message, expressing my condolences, sharing my experience with his father, and telling him that I'd love to meet, as his father had suggested before. Who knows if he'll get my message. But regardless, John Blackwell Sr. was a hell of a person, full of love, life, and energy. He will be missed.

Rest in Peace, John.

Missed Chances

There's a guy named Adam that I went to high school with. I always thought he was cute, but he was a few grades older than me and didn't know me. Yearly 10 years later, I worked at a restaurant and I came across him. He was even cuter. I told him that I remembered him and we flirted briefly before exchanging numbers.

I'll never forget that our first date was on New Year's Eve in Maggiano's before I had to go to work waiting tables that night at Outback Steakhouse (don't judge me!) He walked me to my car and he kissed me so softly. We literally stopped traffic as he kissed me, while cars piled up waiting for me to get into my car so they could have my spot. The other drivers didn't even blow their horns. I remember the look of one waiting driver as she smiled about our embrace and even playfully cheered us on.

We never slept together. Well, technically we did, but not really. We had a night of heavy petting and the next morning, we woke up and started briefly, but then stopped because I had to go to work. It was literally less than 3 minutes and no one "finished" so I only half count it. But let me tell you, we both felt sparks. We talked about it later and agreed that we'd only been dating for a few weeks and although we could tell it would be incredible when we finally did get it on, we should wait.

A few weeks more we dated and he eventually disappeared. He stopped calling and he stopped answering my calls. I was hurt. He was perfect. He always told me that I was beautiful. He had a gorgeous smile. We had a great time together. And he disappeared on me. It took a couple of weeks but I got over it. Then he called me on Valentine's Day. I saw his number and my heart leaped. I anxiously answered. "Hello." I answered while smiling. I knew it was him. Silence. "Hello," I said a little more curious. Again he said nothing. Was this a cruel joke? Why call me on Valentine's Day of all days and then say nothing? He was one of the few cases of men that I knew I'd loved from the beginning, he came in, swept me up, suddenly dumped me, and then called on the most romantic day of the year just to breathe in my ear? I responded by saying "just leave me alone and don't call me again, Adam" and I hung up.

I don't remember how it happened, but we saw one another again some time later. We became friends although there remained sexual energy. He later on started dating another woman and I later on dated and had a child by Pookie. He and I maintained a distant friendship. We eventually talked about what happened and he confessed that he cared about me deeply but at the time he couldn't commit to me. He missed me which is why he called on Valentine's day, yet he couldn't muster up the courage to say anything. Yet somehow, he managed to get a girlfriend and move in with her a few months later. We haven't spoken in a few years although I've continued to look him up on Facebook and Myspace.

Sometimes I think back on us and wonder if things had been different if we'd have slept together that night. There are only two men that I consider to be "the one that got away." Adam and Omar. If Adam and I hadn't stayed together, perhaps we would have at least really felt one another, at least once. Maybe it would have taken us to the next level. Maybe not. But I'm still curious. I don't think I'd sleep with him now. I'm happy with my life and I have too much to lose. He only creeps into the corners of my mind on occasion. But there will always exist the thoughts of "if only..."

Getting Our Grown Women On

So I've been hurling my guts out with a nasty stomach bug that I've gotten from my son. Thankfully I'm finally feeling better. I didn't want my first big Christmas with my family to be a bust as I kept running to hurl so I'm glad that my stomach is calming down on me.

As the holidays draw closer, I'm glad that some of my fabulous female friends are finally getting booed up. I've always thought that my female friends were awesome beyond belief so I love knowing that there are men that recognize their awesomeness as much as I do. Gone are the days of chasing emotionally unavailable men with girlfriends and other baggage. Gone are the days of chasing men that can never love us as much as they love themselves. Gone are the days of sitting back and waiting to be the number one woman in a man's life. My female friends are finding happiness in good men and are not only liking these men, they're being pursued in return. I love it when they call me and tell me that their men are taking them out and ready for a future. I'm glad because I'm one of the few people I know in a moderately happy relationship but now my wonderful female friends are finding men that are free of games and headaches. I'm glad too because they deserve it.

As we gotten older we've cried together about the men we loved that didn't love us back and truthfully it hurt like hell at the time. But what's the point of having your ass kicked by love if you're stupid enough to repeat the same mistakes? Only a total moron would jump from one man that doesn't love her to another one. My girlfriends have taught me that as we leaned on one another, we also learned from one another. My friend that had gotten caught up in the Facebook drama has since decided to leave dude alone and is now being courted by a man that is fully waiting and available to her. Another girl has a man that has encouraged her to go back to school, and my other friend has a man that she's really digging.

I'm glad that we're no longer waiting for men to love us back. No woman in her 30's and beyond should be that stupid.

Bullshit, Cheating, and Suicide

A while ago, I wrote about my friend Julie going through some drama via Facebook. She started sleeping with her exboyfriend Derek, knowing he was engaged but later found out that he and his fiance have a baby on the way (here). Well, since then, of course things got thicker. Well first off, we found out that there's only one baby on the way. Apparently his fiance has a dummy page. Well, that is still a relief, but that didn't take away from the fact that dude has a baby on the way with his fiance, which is too much drama fro Julie to deal with. My homie decided to cut her losses and tell the dude to beat it, even though he kept calling her and begging her to stick with him. But his fiance has since then gone through his phone and reached out to Julie.

She sent Julie a text message saying that she'd noticed that he'd been calling her a lot and sending her pictures and she just wanted to know what was going on before she married the dude. My heart went out to the fiance, but my loyalty was with Julie. I told my friend to respond with something along the lines of 'I can't help you, but go with your gut and good luck on that.' Julie decided to just not respond, but she warned Derek to get his girl, otherwise she might just pick up the phone next time.

This morning I woke up and checked one of my favorite sites, postsecret.com.  Someone had emailed Frank, the person that runs the site and said that they'd recently gone through suicide prevention counseling and was able to talk a suicidal friend out of ending it all. I briefly thought to myself that I wouldn't mind going through training like that. Then later I checked my Facebook page and saw that another homegirl of mine was about to go off on some dude's girl and she needed me to talk to her. I told her to hit me stat.

She called and I asked what the issue was. She told me that it was about the dude she'd traveled to Texas to visit a while back. Dude was her first love and they'd reconnected, prompting her to consider moving her and her children to be next to him. She went and visited and she was stuck in a hotel the whole time and pissed about how she went through so much to be next to him, yet he ignored her when they were finally alone. However, him ignoring her happened after she'd slept with him, the first guy she'd slept with in over a year. She called me pissed off on her last day in Texas and I told her to make the best of if and go out and explore the neighborhood she was visiting. When she got back, she called dude to tell her that she made it home, but HIS WIFE answered. Blow.

Apparently dude had still been calling her, begging her to be with him, even though she said she didn't want to hear it if he hadn't left the wife. I wished she'd have told me, but I would have told her to stop taking his phone calls the moment she got home, but I digress.

Anyway, it seems that dude's wife had started calling my friend, talking reckless. My friend hadn't told the wife what the real issue is, but she's tempted. I told her that since he's the real asshole in the whole issue, she should tell the wife what really went on. That's when she started crying and told me that all three of the men she's loved in her life have done her wrong and she was tired of it. She told me that she'd been having thoughts of suicide and was even thinking of it the last time we'd talked, although she'd never mentioned it. She broke down and said how unfair it is that she only wants a man to love her but all of them are full of shit.

I listened to her cry and told her that first off, I wanted to kick her ass for not telling me she'd felt like that before. Then she told me that she thought I was working at the time and didn't want to bother me. I assured her that no matter what was going on, if she needed to talk like that, my door was always open. Then I talked about my time with my ex and even Pookie and how at times, I too had felt the same way. I said how fucked up it is that Black men seem to think that breaking hearts makes them bigger and better than others. I told her that my ex told me that he'd loved me and was pretty much living with me at one point and didn't give a shit how he ended it. And then I told her that at one point Pookie was gonna leave me high and dry while pregnant and not look back. I was going to really get into my story, but then she had to go get ready for church. She promised to call me later.

If anybody knows how it is to have your heart broken and want to end it all, it's me. I know that my homie is hurting, but she'll be okay. At least I hope she is. It's a damned shame how cruel and selfish some people can be. I'll never understand how some men can be so cruel and callous. What the hell do they think they're gaining? Do they feel like big shit by breaking the hearts of women that they start off begging to love them?

I don't know why men do the bullshit that they do. But I do know that I've been there myself and that we've all gotta lean on each other.

Malika vs. Sociopaths

One of the girls I work with is a sociopath. Seriously. I’m not just saying that because she’s a pain in the ass. She doesn’t care about anything. She doesn’t care about her future. She doesn’t care about rewards and treats. She doesn’t care about being punished. She doesn’t care about hurting others, either emotionally or physically. At times when I see children on the news that have harmed their classmates or shot up the school, a chill runs down my spine because I know that she’s capable of doing the same thing one day. I’m woefully unprepared and unqualified to give her the intense therapy she needs so I do my best, which I know isn’t enough.

It makes no difference to her when I tell her that she’ll never get into the college of her choice if she keeps fighting and acting out. I told her about how good she has it, having loving parents, and I told her a little about Keisha, who was locked in closets and choked by her mother. She looked at me and giggled. That has been the only time that I’ve ever wanted to lay hands to one of my kids. I turned away from her for fear that I would surely say something to her that would garner my getting fired. I still do what is professionally required of me when working with her, but I don’t have anywhere near the emotional attachment to her that I have with my other kids. Going to see her is a chore for me, while I’d hang out with my other kids for free (which I actually have done).

I took her to see a therapist one day and I explained to him that of all the kids I’ve ever worked with, she’s the only one that has never gotten that spark. The “spark” I refer to happens in many children with discipline problems. They will talk to a mentor who tells them about college and growing up to be doctors and lawyers and there will appear a small spark in that child’s eye that lets you know that they hear you. Don’t get me wrong, seeing the spark doesn’t mean that the child is going to suddenly fly right, but at least in the back of their mind they have it stored that they want to live a life out of jail and full of enrichment. At the end of their session, once she’d left the room, I told the doctor that I believed her to be a sociopath. He looked at me and casually nodded and shrugged as if we’d been discussing the weather. I asked him how I was supposed to help her. He told me that the only thing I could do was to keep taking her out and talking to her. A lot of good that’s proven to do (not!)

I think the reason that I have such a hard time dealing with her is that she reminds me of two other sociopaths I know: my former roommate Aliya and my stalker, Chloe. They particularly came to mind as I read something about sociopaths on the internet this evening.

“There are stories of people diagnosed as sociopaths who did improve to some degree, with the most ceaseless and diligent help. But since the vast majority of this huge body of people (there are more than three hundred million sociopaths on Earth) cannot get that kind of attention, they turn to abusing those they envy, and often to crime. It is certainly vengeance: "If I can't have any of this, why should you?" This is the real reason sociopaths lash out at strong and kind people. No matter what they say, they know that inside, they are always empty and damaged beyond repair.”

My fallout with Aliya was brutal. She was the girlfriend of my boyfriend’s best friend. We were opposites in a lot of ways. I was outgoing, she was more of an introvert. She enjoyed trying to prove how smart she was to the world, and despite me seeming like a dingbat, I didn’t care enough about others to prove myself. I enjoyed dressing up like a girl on occasion, she never wore a skirt the whole time I’d known her. Things seemed cool at first but they took a left turn once we’d started living and working together.

She’d get angry if I wanted to go out on the weekend with other friends instead of staying home with her. While she’d had her secure clique of cronies that we worked with, I hung with them on occasion, but still had many outside interests. Suddenly my coworkers would get weird with me. They’d get pissed off that I didn’t exercise with them on weekends, despite me explaining that I worked my second job on weekends and that I worked out during the week. I explained to them that they technically got to see more of me than anyone else, but they didn’t get it. They hung out so much, but that was also their only job. I had a second job, plus I was in school full time. They grew to resent me and making me feel ostracized and bad, despite me never doing a wrong thing to any of them. The job became unbearable.

I later found out that Aliya was a major liar. I became skeptical of her once I realized that she’d tried to keep me from getting next to Kelsy while I was still crushing on him. I hadn’t thought about it until later, but I got way more guy attention than Aliya. I guess what she didn’t see was that yeah, I got attention from men, but many of them only wanted sex (which they weren’t getting from me). I’ve always had a guy around me or another, so I’ve never been single. She, looking back on it, was overweight, had pimples, a horrible fashion sense, and had a hard time keeping a guy. But still I always supported her.

Eventually I realized that she was trying to get me fired from my job. I got written up for some bullshit one day so I quit by throwing the write up in my boss’ face, walking out, and not looking back. A short while later I ended up homeless because of her (long story) and one of our guy friends was the savior that helped me move since I was carless, in school, had to find somewhere to move quickly, and only had one small part time job.

That friend, Charmer, will always have a soft place in my heart for what he did for me during that time. Although I’d realized that Aliya was crazy (and I still have no clue why she did what she did to me) Charmer told me that she was obsessed with me. Charmer said that she talked about me for hours on end. He knew the names of guys I’d been dating, he knew where I worked, he even knew that my car had broken down a few days before and that a mechanic had jipped me. I hadn’t talked to Charmer in some years, but he knew too damned much about me.

He said that he would ask her to put me on the phone at times and she would refuse. He said that she’d tell him what a slut I was. He said that one day supposedly a guy I dated told her that the sex with me was bad. Charmer and I dated briefly way back when, but his busy schedule kept us from going anywhere. While she and I were cool, she’d tell me stories of how much he wanted her because she was apparently the only woman to ever reject him. Since I’d long since moved on from him, I told her to go for it and that he was a good guy. When the dust settled, he told me that he found her physically repulsive (as did most men) and that he had no idea that she’d been so fascinated with him.

Anyway, after that, I moved on. My former coworkers and friends no longer talk to me, despite me never doing a thing to them. I’ve even tried to explain to them that I’m not the monster that she’s made me out to be, but to no avail. I later developed a shell that made it really hard for me to trust people. I may smile and nod at most people, but overall, I’m always wondering what they want from me. I’ve met people that told me how awesome I am and that they’d like to be friends and I wonder if they’re just jealous. I learned to make people prove themselves and not just believe what I’m told.

And then there was Chloe. I’m not going to go into the whole story involving her (I’ve done that essentially over various posts so I’m not going to bother with it here) but she too was and is a sociopath. It’s a shame that her best friend can’t see how selfish and manipulative she really is, but I’m pretty intuitive and I get the feeling that the day will soon come. Chloe has felt no qualms about relishing in my misery and enjoys playing the victim, while the whole time enjoying attacking me.

I’m thankful that the restraining order has stopped her for now, but I have no doubt in my mind that she will start stalking me again eventually. She quickly apologizes for the things she has put me through, and she often tries to make nice (or so she claims) but after supposedly trying to make nice, she’ll contact my boyfriend or best friend with more insane lies. And I promise you the crazy bitch isn’t missing a wink of sleep behind it. This particular clip reminds me of her.

“Sociopaths can be really charming, but be wary because they are very manipulative and domineering. Sociopaths tend to be compulsive liars with a grandiose sense of self. They also lack the ability empathize with the pain and problems of other people.” That is Chloe Colbert to a tee. And I know that I’m not the only person that sees that in her. We still have mutual friends but I know that she has tried hard to make them think ill of me. Thankfully they know me enough to not believe her lies.

I say all of that to say that working with my young friend isn’t easy. I found an interesting link here about sociopaths (here). Apparently I'm not the only one that's dealt with them. The interesting thing is that so many people have gone through the exact same kind of shit from them. I know the kind of horror and manipulation that she is capable of. I hope that her family and friends know what they’re in for. Because I know. And I damned sure don’t want to be around for it.

Bedsheets and the Nook

Last night, I'd spent the night at Daisy's house so that I could drop her off at the airport this morning. On the way to the airport, I'd told Daisy that although I love Pookie with all of my heart, I tell her that there are things about him that I don't know if I could deal with forever if we ever got married. Daisy then reminded me that almost all married couples feel the same way and that I shouldn't let one or two things keep me from him. I was so relieved to hear her say that because she was right.

Before I left last night I threw our bedsheets in the washer and dryer. Pookie was at work that evening, but I suspected that he'd be so exhausted by the time he got home that he wouldn't fuss with the sheets, but instead go straight to sleep without them. When I got home this morning, I immediately climbed into bed and went back to sleep. A few hours later, I woke up and realized there still hadn't been any sheets on the bed. I didn't care though. Pookie and I held one another as his arms wrapped around me. Strangely enough when we first started dating he told me that he couldn't sleep holding another person. And now here he is, contouring himself to me in his sleep. Every time my legs moved, so did his. Our feet tickled one another. I was in heaven. I heard his heart beat. I felt his chest heave in and out as he breathed silently. I thought back on when I heard Fred's heart beat and I realized that this was different. This wasn't temporary. This wasn't borrowed. This wasn't about him trying to get into my pants. This was me with the man that holds my heart and loves me regardless. This was the man that held me in his sleep and grabbed my waist and pulled me close to him while we rested together.

A moment later I looked up at the bed and thought about the missing sheets. It triggered a memory. I thought about one of my last conversations with David. After his hooker found out about us, he suddenly became cold and callous. He yelled at me. He told me I'd meant nothing to him. I reminded him of me driving him around and being there for him when he had nothing for nearly 10 years. I told him that I'd loved him more than I'd loved myself. That's when he said to me that if I'd loved him, I'd have put sheets on the bed. To be brief, one morning when we were together, I woke up at 6 in the morning to go get him from work and for some reason, there was no sheets on the bed and he'd complained about it. I was exhausted and didn't care and told him to sleep without them. And now here, he didn't respect me enough just to say, no offense Malika, but I gotta take care of home (which I would have respected, since I was the one that had urged him to marry the disease infested tramp in the first place). The only way he could justify his lack of compassion toward me was the fucking sheets.

I sat back and thanked my lucky stars for finding a man that loves me so much. I literally have to tear myself away from him as we kiss each other goodbye when he leaves for work. I also thanked the heavens that I found a man that loves me for me. Pookie loves me honestly. I never pretended to be someone that I wasn't. I never had to degrade or haggle with his exwife (although, I must admit that my pregnancy hormones didn't always equate to me being lady like all of the time). He is too much of a man to want women fighting over him. He hates conflict in our home. When I'm pissed off and want to shut down, he's the one that tells me to grow up and share what's on my mind. Whenever there was a woman sniffing around him, I urged him to be with her if that's what he chose. But he always came back to me. I'm a woman that loves honestly and it takes a real man to recognize and appreciate that.

I lay my fingers in between Pookie's and squeezed. He squeezed back. His hands were so large and soft, yet manly next to my dainty fingers. He shifted a little and squeezed me further in.

A few days ago, I watched an old episode of Sex and the City and in it, Carrie pissed off her boyfriend, Aidan. I don't remember what the conflict was, but even though he said there was no problem, she could tell that there was because when they were laying in bed, she said there was no "nook." She explained the nook as the part of the man's body by his armpit, where the woman curls up when they cuddle. Him keeping his arms close to himself meant he didn't want to cuddle. I know the nook and I'm a fan of it myself.

I got up for a second and came back to the bed. He was awake by then and stretched his arm out to anticipate holding me when I reentered the bed. Pookie had my nook waiting. And even with no sheets, it was perfect for both of us.

List Days

Goodness only knows that there are many days that I sing the praises of Pookie. He's tall, handsome, strong, dependable, stable, etc. He's what I need on so many days. But there are some days where I have to ask myself if he's truly where I need to be. Sometimes he'll do or say things that remind me of why in the back of my mind we just aren't meant to be together. When that happens, it's like it's just another thing to add to the list of things that make me think that we're on borrowed time.

I love how stable he is. Not just financially, but overall. He's the guy to stick with if you always want the 401k's and good advice on your career. We've got our son well on his way to being fully prepared for school. Pookie has spent many hours helping our son with letters, colors, and numbers. A year ago he could barely speak and now he's pretty much up there with other kids his age. For a happy household, Pookie is where I need to be.

But sometimes I go through things that make me shout in my head all over again that this isn't where I should be. I've learned to compartmentalize, but I feel that doing so isn't fair to anyone involved. The other day, after I'd met with my confused little homegirl, I wanted to bad to vent my frustrations. I called a few of my friends to tell them about my time with old girl and of course they were as shocked as I was. I wanted to hit Pookie and tell him, but I knew that he wouldn't share my outrage, my hurt, my confusion. Instead of driving straight home after my long day with her, instead I drove to the one person that I could vent to. I went to see Him. Despite him being busy doing some cleaning, he took the time to listen do me. He shared my "what the fuck?!" of the whole situation. I could see on his face that he was surprised and saddened about the girl not knowing her history.

I told him that I missed our time together. He said that he agreed that we did share some good times hanging out. Then he looked at me and said "next lifetime?" All I could say was, "do you know that you're the fourth guy to claim my next lifetime? Apparently, dating in my next four lifetimes are gonna be incredible." Seriously, I always meet fantastic guys and somehow miss them because I've got one idiotic boyfriend or another and/or the guys have girlfriends (not that Pookie is an idiot). He laughed and said that still, when we do get our chance, things will be magical.

I love Pookie so much that I want him to be the guy that I share myself with. It's so frustrating to be with the "love of my life" but to feel that I can't always truly open up and be who and what I am. Which goes into another point on the list. I often think that he wants me to be something or someone that I'm not. I've been a free spirit since the day I was born. I can't help it. People love that about me though. I'm so easy going and comfortable in my own skin that even my enemies really want to be my friend. Sometimes I wish that Pookie could look at me and see me for the loving, outgoing, charming woman that I really am. Instead I feel that he often looks at me and sees me for what I'm not. It's amazing how I'd spent so much of my life hating myself that the moment I finally learn to love myself, I've got someone that's trying to tweak me.

Don't get me wrong, he's done a lot of good for me. He showed me that I'm not the fat ass that I thought I was and he's got me wearing better clothes and looking more like a girl. He's helped me to get a career path and he's going to help me get through grad school, the same way he helped me to get through undergrad. But sometimes when my inner hippie emerges, he rolls his eyes. When I make silly jokes, he often doesn't understand that I'm kidding and he looks at me like I'm an idiot. If I say that I don't like a song, a movie, or an artist, he questions my tastes and acts as though I'm an uncouth, uneducated ignoramus. For the record, my cd collection includes Frank Sinatra, Harry Connick Jr, Barry Manilow, Stevie Wonder and many others. Just because I don't like some rap artists does not mean that I'm unaware or unable to appreciate good music. He doesn't like the soundtrack to "Purple Rain" (wtf?!) but I don't judge him based on that. Among my favorite movies is Citizen Kane and Goodfellas. Just because I didn't like "Godfather," that doesn't make me a moron.

When I want to save the world by going above and beyond for my kids and/or I bend over backwards for my friends, he questions me and my motives. He gets annoyed when I drop what I'm doing to help a friend in need. He doesn't quite understand that my friends are my family and that I'll take a bullet for my family. The same friends that he gets annoyed at me for going to pick up when they're stranded, are the same friends that will watch Pumpkin when we're in a crunch and need a sitter. On the other hand, Him would totally understand that and support it. Next lifetime? *sigh*

I've also recognized that while Him is the man that can always satisfy my emotional needs, Fred is the man that can always satisfy me sexually. Although Pookie is undeniably the best lover I've ever had, Fred brings a magnetism to the table that is unlike anything I've ever seen. Fred is so confident and sometimes downright cocky. I've said before that Fred ain't the marryin' type, but sexually, he draws women like a moth to a flame. There's something about his swag, his confidence and his air that make him unstoppable. I've told myself that if I ever get married, I cannot allow myself to be alone with Fred. Seriously, he can go from touching your knee to having your shirt off in 15 minutes. He's calm, cool, sexy. You don't even realize what's going on until your legs are in the air. Although Pookie is the man that I would most likely spend the rest of my life with, sometimes I wish that he had the same fire that Fred has. Fred is so exciting. The last time I saw him, things were suppose to be platonic but when he turns himself on, even the most innocent visit can turn naughty. Needless to say, I only hang with him in groups now that I'm committed.

The irony is that Pookie could totally have the same amount of sexual energy, but he holds himself back. Its like he's afraid to let go, to be vulnerable, to trust and believe in who he is. I believe in him, but until he fully believes in himself, he'll never have what Fred has. Fred knows and believes that he can have any woman he wants, and he does them as he wishes. He's adventurous and exciting. There's nothing he fears intimately and it makes him so desirable. And the women love him for it. I've seen Fred be over arrogant and he was a turn off, but later on, I wanted him just the same.

I want for Pookie to open up and trust in himself. I want him to fully know that he's the love of my life so sexually he can be as confident and open as he wants. I won't judge him, I won't reject him, I won't ridicule him. I just want him to explore himself as deeply as he needs to in order to get past his mental block of imperfection.

If only I could get the stability of Pookie, with the emotional intelligence of Him, and the sexual prowess of Fred, my world would be complete. But I guess I can't. I've got to accept Pookie just how he is. Hopefully, one day, he can do the same thing for me.

Thanksgiving in Paradise- Is This Really My Life?

A little before Halloween, I'd realized that the holidays were coming. I hit my childhood friend and informed her that I planned to cover her home in Christmas lights. She wondered why I'd do such a thing and I told her because I felt like it. Thankfully she knows how I am so she knows to expect a big, light, bright, loud, tacky, over the top display. I even told Fred that I may make him assist me, although he said that sounds too much like "manual labor" for his taste. Good thing I don't really care what he wants.

But amazingly, the closer I got to the holidays, the better things got. I'd started planning on buying gifts, something I wasn't able to do the previous years. I've already bought a few gifts for Pumpkin and Pookie's mom. I'm planning to buy stuff for my homegirls, my family and of course Pookie. Yesterday Pookie made the turkey and the collards, while I knocked out the mac and cheese, stuffing, gravy, and sweet potato souffle. My dad hit me up to ask what we were doing and if we were eating. He asked to come by and I told him truthfully that we hadn't prepared enough for 4 others. He said that he understood and asked if we'd like to host Christmas here at my home, and that he'd supply the food. I told him that I'd be honored. But then I had to run it by Pookie.

Pookie said that he didn't really want the responsibility of cooking and hosting. I grew silent and went out on the patio to sit alone. I didn't mean to. It wasn't the silent treatment. He asked if I was okay and I said yes. I wasn't trying to make him feel bad. It's just that hosting Christmas would be yet another sign that I was finally coming into my own as an adult. He continued to look at my face and he agreed that we could host.

I stayed out on the patio and wanted to share with him how I'd felt. How happy I was. I wanted to hug him and thank him for everything. I just ordered my GRE book to get ready to enter grad school. My son, who was barely verbal this time last year, now talks until I just want to smack him. Pookie, who a year ago I just wanted to walk away from is my boyfriend and we are exclusive. Better yet, we aren't just together because he messed up and he's trying to make amends for his bad behavior. Instead we're on the same page and truly care for one another. It's not uncommon for me to call out to him, "Baby!" when I need his attention. I prayed for a job this time last year and was so disappointed when I didn't get the job I went for back then. Later on I got my current job where I make my own schedule, get to work with kids, and I got inspired to go back to school. Truthfully, if I'd gotten that other job, I imagine that I'd still be there, and that I would be making more than I do now, but I wouldn't have the vision to see as clearly and focused as I do now with my current career path. I wanted to walk up to Pookie and thank him so much for holding me down and loving me when I didn't always love myself.

Later in the evening I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I thanked him and told him that for the first time in my adult life, I'm so happy. Things are perfect. This is the first time I've looked forward to Christmas since I was 16. For the first time, I feel in control. I've got the most beautiful and wonderful friends and sisters that a girl could ask for. I'm more confident than I've ever been. It's like my dark cloud has lifted and I'm free to love myself and others. I still get irritated, but overall I don't think that I could be shaken. I had to do a lot and shake a lot of folks to get where I am, but I wouldn't change it all for anything.

I'm finally getting where I'm supposed to be.

the future is fucked

I met with one of my kids today. She is a young teenager. I took her to a coffeehouse and I observed the Smokey Robinson playing in the background. I pointed out the ditty and I told her that it was Smokey. She looked at me and said "who?" I looked at her and said "Smokey Robinson?" Again, she said "who?" I grew exasperated.

I started to give her a history lesson on Smokey and the cultural impact that Motown had on segregated America. Then I told her that Stevie Wonder also got his start at Motown. Again she said "who?" Just imagine how perplexed I was by then. I'm not gonna lie, not only am I a music snob, I'm also a major Stevie Wonder fan so I totally didn't understand her. It's like she was speaking Russian to me. So anyway, then I explained to her that Stevie did the song "Happy Birthday" which was responsible in part for garnering support for the creation of a national day of observance for Dr. King's birthday. She then said she recognized the song and asked if he was the same dude that did the song "Cupid Shuffle." *sigh* My soul died just a little by having her ask me DID STEVIE WONDER DO THE SONG CUPID SHUFFLE? What the fuck are kids learning today? I told her no, he didn't do the song. I also discovered that she didn't know who Aretha Franklin is.

Anyway, while talking to her I started to give her a history lesson. I began by telling her about the Black Panther Party. I told her about the brutal murder of Fred Hampton by the Chicago Pigs and how I at one point ran with an organization that was started by his son. I told her how much they did for Oakland and how they went on to have groups all over the country. I told her they were taken down by the government because they were succeeding in getting Black people to flourish and be independent. She called my lesson "boring." I'm sorry, but what the fuck? I may be a lot of things, but I'm far from boring.

Then I started to talk about the protests and marches that happened in Alabama. I explained to her that when you watch the clips of the protests, the people there were children, her age, because their parents weren't able to march because they had to keep their bosses happy, so they didn't want to be on the news marching. I told her that the kids in those clips were hosed, bitten by dogs, tear gassed, and beaten mercilessly. I explained to her that when a lot of those kids were arrested, it wasn't uncommon for some of them to not make it home. I explained to her that pretty little brown girls like her were often raped by old white men and that the law didn't give a shit. Still, she shrugged and called it "boring." I even explained to her that stuff happened only 50 years ago, meaning that her grandmother could be old enough to have witnessed it. She still said it wasn't fascinating at all. I couldn't believe it. I asked her if she knew about Harriet Tubman and she shook her head and said that she didn't know who HE was. She even thought that Harriet Tubman was a dude! *banging head on desk*

Truthfully I wasn't always as into history as I am now, but I'd always cared about the struggles of Blacks. Perhaps it was because I was raised in the 80's on the heels of the end of the Black Power movement. I was named after Malcolm X for God's sake. I remember when the first MLK day was observed. When I was 14, for Christmas I'd asked my mother for a copy of the book "Makes Me Wanna Holler" by Nathan McCall. It was about his struggles as a Black man growing up in this country. It remains one of my favorite books, and when my son hits the same age, I plan to make him read it.

I'd loved the move Panther when it came out. I was about 14 at the time. There is a song on the soundtrack for the movie where Huey Newton was heard saying "We want freedom. We want decent education that teaches us about this racist, decadent system. We want education that teaches us about our true history of our role in the world and society today. We want education, we want justice, we want freedom." And later in the same song "So the concept is this basically. The whole Black nation has to be put together as a Black army. And we're gonna walk on this nation, we're gonna walk on this racist power structure, and we're gonna say to the whole damned government, STICK 'EM UP MUTHAFUCKA! WE COME FOR WHAT'S OURS!" I didn't understand it fully at the time, but I knew overall that my people had been shafted and that some bad ass cats wanted what we were owed. And I may have only been 14 or 15 at the time, but I knew they were speaking some real shit. I knew those lyrics and the whole song by heart. But here, around the same age, she felt it didn't effect her.

I then said out loud that I'd just decided that I'd look through some books and get something about Black history for her. She shook her head and told me not to waste my money because she wouldn't read it. I assured her that it would be good. Again, she shook her head. Then I said to her "look, I wouldn't do this for anyone else, but I'll pay you to read the book. Would you be willing to read a book on Black history if I paid you?" She looked at me and said no. I couldn't believe it. She didn't ask how much. She didn't say maybe. She didn't even think about it. She said no. I asked her again. She shook her head. I asked her to think about my offer. She again said no. My heart ached a little. I was sitting here, talking to a high school aged girl, that refused to read about her own history for MONEY. Do you understand? SHE WOULDN'T READ ABOUT HER OWN HISTORY IF I PAID HER TO DO SO.

There was nothing else to do or say. I told her that it was getting late and that we needed to go. As I drove home, I couldn't help but to focus on that. What the fuck has happened to kids where a girl her age couldn't be convinced to read about the struggles of her own people for money?

I got home and put on the movie "Panther," which I'd coincidentally saved on Netflix about a week ago. I saw a clip of Chairman Fred Hampton Sr. and they played a clip where they portrayed his brutal murder. I thought back on my time with Chairman Fred Jr's organization. I met him a few times and he's an intense dude. The things I did with that organization were so deep that there are still things that I don't tell people about and I never will. I didn't like some things that I saw, but I've got so much respect for what I learned while I was with that organization. Watching the movie, I loved how some of the young characters were willing to lay their lives on the line for the struggle and I remembered how I would have been willing to do the same thing. "Better to die on your feet than live on your knees." While there, we had to learn as much as we could about our history and we went out weekly and fed people. We worked together. We were a team. I hate that things ended when and how they did, but they'll never know how much I learned from them. I've got a few friends that are still involved in the movement. I'm not as involved as I once was, but I still try to support them as much as I can. While many Black people are asleep, there are many grassroots organizations that seek to pick up where the Black Panther Party left off.

So while some teenagers are busy, going to work, trying to fight against the system, other kids only know about Dr. King. I don't know what to do or say right now. I'm hurt. I'm embarrassed for her. I'm pissed at her mother for not talking to her about her history since she was old enough to hear it. I'm frustrated because the reason I studied media in college was so that I could work against the bullshit that the media is dumbing down our kids with. I feel like I'm failing. *sigh* kids are fucked.