right now i'm:

Realizing the error in my ways. Even though I know plenty who get over, I've never believed that they would walk away with their hands clean with no ramifications of their actions. Karma is the concept that everything completes the course of a circle. What goes around, comes around, and so-on. The quicker I stopped playing innocent and quit finding excuses to pacify myself and my ''cause'', the faster it was to stop the cycle of chaos. It's better to be clear with yourself and not fall into the comfort of the cop-out. 

Real recognizes real. Everyone that I've met that is supposed to be a "somebody" has not measured up to half of the shit they talk. Ok, you dress fly, or you're always in the hottest spots, or you model. What else? I've read countless articles that ramble on centering around a catch phrase or ideology of what they have rationalized as acceptable. Over doing everything but never saying much.  Let's face it: the days of the "baller" is dead and most people don't have the balls to put out there that, yeah, they drive a Porsche truck and possess the accessories that go along with the facade, but pull up to their apartment complex where they have standard rent a center furniture, and have to take their clothes to the fluff and fold because they wouldn't invest in a washer/dryer from HhGregg. Don't have a chair to sit on but you can guarantee that the bag hanging on the closet door handle is the latest Louie. I'm so tired of the disillusioned thinking that goes with this hypothetical. I'm so sick of the fragrance of the times: desperation. Reaching every nostril and rotting brain regions. Desperate times have called for desperate measures, and most have proven the strangeness of their change...

Have been blessed beyond measure. Being pleasantly busy with new terminology and concepts for another job that I've been fortunate enough to get my hands on as a consultant. I had purposely stayed from all things corporate. All I imagined was a cubicle and an uptight boss always on my back. To me the whole role meant surpressing the colors and ridiculous scenerios in my mind and looking at figures on a page. Growing older has given me a new appreciation and drive to be dynamic. The disposition of the generation is the feeling of 'being pimped' by their jobs. After being on the other side of the glass, dealing with my income being solely tips, I found out there's no growth or advancement in the hustle, and no matter how many 'big fish' you bring to the corporation, chances are, your efforts will go unnoticed. So I'll trade the fast lane for a corner office in the ac or heat [depending on the season] and get rewarded by my hard work in the form of commission and bonuses. Health benefits and 401k plans. So I guess the first thing on the agenda: pencil skirts, silk blouses, and a briefcase. I'm really excited on getting ready for the renovations at my house and being one step closer to "normalcy". God is good.

Glad I can finally call my Mom with great news. News that will change her life in a huge way and take a lot of stress and strain off of her. My goal ever since I graduated from high school was to position myself where I could one day tell my Mom she didn't have to work anymore and could do whatever she wanted. I've always prided myself in being able to help people I care about have a good quality of life. She's been having a hard time living in Ohio and maintaining her bills with another property here in Georgia. She takes care of my niece and nephew whenever my sister works but deserves her time to be selfish. I'm one step closer to making that dream a reality.

Going crazy trying not to think of 'him'. I miss him a lot, as a person and wonder about his everyday: if he's eating, if he's getting enough rest, so on. But then I remember that he's probably wondering the same thing: when is he's going to eat, laying around the house with Queenie, doing exactly what he wants. And I focus back on my day. Besides my dog, and a few pounds, I've lost a few more things that just weren't worth giving up because of something I wanted. I wanted to be with him. Now the difference between want and need is blatant to me. Carmen thinks that I won't be truly blessed until I'm surrounded by the people who deserve Me the most. Ever since I've been on my own I've been advancing. I'm not saying that he held me back... I'm just saying. 

Can't stop smiling from all the happenings in my life. I spent over a year with someone I couldn't be myself around and didn't feel the support I needed in order to make changes in my life. Reconnecting with old friends has got me feeling real... necessary. That feeling is important. 'He' told me that no one gives a fuck about my situation. Why would he think that would help me? And if he wasn't trying to help, why would he try to hurt me? Turns out he was wrong.

It's the first time in a long time I'm glad my lover told me a lie.

i can dig it

                      

Kid Cudi - New Music - More Music Videos

This took a few days to grow on me, the video helped persuade. Humans are such visual creatures. enjoy ♥

  "I'm just a dreamer, turned true to life learner...

       born to do good so others can be believers." 

                                                             -kid cudi

I like him already.

politics as usu-al.

Today I finally caught up with a friend who's been living in Japan for most of 'o8. After months of emails we were finally in the same place at the same time. Of course an outing and drinks were in order and for me: social interaction! Something I had been deprived of in my previous relationship and I have been craving for that sort of release. I automatically started going through outfits and signature pieces but quickly remembered that I can't press "go" until the red tape had been cleared. It's unfortunate that you can't go out with a male friend without the assumption of the hanky [s]panky. Many women enjoy the simplicity of male company and I personally find it disturbing that folks actually believe that if you're on a date/outing you're automatically labeled as a promiscuous person. Like it's not possible to be cool with a member of the opposite sex without it involving sex. As anxious as I am to put on the freak 'um dress, I know that I can't because of the jury that awaits me when I leave the house. They won't see a girl who just got out of a relationship that needs to have a good time, they see a chick in that "little ass dress laughing a little too hard with that tall ass nigga". As sad as the last statement was, it's true. Perception is everything and with that in mind, I considered the factors to make my decision. 

My friend has a reputation of being generous with money and known to frequent certain strip clubs, being seen with a different woman at every picture taking event, and was made rich young. He indulged. Sue him. Even though he claims to have slowed down and hadn't been out "since the last time he seen me", I guess I believe him. I choose not to be a judgmental person because I hate to be judged by people who are in no place to say much. To have an opinion is one thing, you can't stop people from thinking what they want, but to come up with a whole theory on an individual based on limited information is retarded.

All of this was being added up in my mind during our afternoon of catching up, smoke session, and homemade burritos. The combination of food, herb, and Tokyo living equaled slumber for my amigo and left me watching East Bound and Down onDemand by myself.

I have literally spent years in and out of clubs and I just don't think it intrigues me anymore. The anticipation of who you might meet, getting to wear those new shoes, and flicking it up with my girls always was the motivation. Just to wait in line because the location is that exclusive and then... you realize that "this is it?" Those times are over now and these days I have to be commemorating something: a birthday, anniversary, engagement, ect for me to jump through hoops. By the time I had finished the onDemand recordings, I was ready to go home. I just wasn't feeling it, and usually that means to take my ass home. I hope my friend decided to go back home and nothing popped off at the club. I guess I'll find out on page six. till then...

all ''good'' things....

The last time I wrote was around the time of my birthday. My over all mood and attitude was a pretty good one, and that was credited to prayer on my half and the prayers of others that I enjoy my day, but behind the scenes, I was coming a bit... undone. Here's the thing: ever since I started this blog, I haven't been able to be completely candid like I prefer. The story being told is mine, but when you have significant people in your life who prefer to remain anonymous, you have to put an invisible leash on your tongue, and in this case, finger tips. And that was an issue that eventually became mutual because of all the people who actually knew 'us' who wanted to see us fall, and have been vocally active in the whole process, but that's a whole 'nother blog. So I took the time in between postings to stop blaming myself for others actions and make an effort to enforce some changes. I hate the weak pisces part of me that hears people out and argues back and forth until my p.o.v. is understood. But after everything is said and done, I am asking myself, like for real, "who cares if I'm understood?" and I'm choosing to completely be. And one thing that I am is open, I know I can't receive anything real with my heart closed.

Turning another year older has engraved permanent lessons in my head. The major one is learning how to appreciate the ''bitter sweetness'' of life because things we don't want might just be the thing we need. Even though I'm sad that it's over, I've learned things that 

will stop a lot of pain in the future. The grooves in my heart are constant reminders that even some of the prettiest faces can have the ugliest of ways and say the ugliest things in hopes that you will feel ugly as well. All because of fear. Fear of being hurt or disappointed by someone else, of opening up and telling someone your inner thoughts. The conscious act of making yourself vulnerable. Stripping away the labels, designers, and accessories leaves us with just us. The undesirable truth is that most people don't feel good enough. That if they truly let down their guards and exposed their quirky-ness that the object of their affection won't accept them. Don't think so? If everyone kept it real, there would be no need for 'the game'.. so people conform because it's so easy, or hold onto past hurt so long that all that they see when they look into the face of their loved one is hurt. I get it completely, but can't get with the concept of being chained down emotionally and not being able to experience love in the fut

ure because of those issues. That's one of the reasons I write: to record the mini obsessions of my life before they become major obsessions. Usually after I re read, I quickly realize just how long one thing has took over my mind and it's easier for me to "get over it already"!

All in all, I'm disappoint

ed on how things ended: with one person playing dumb on all substantial points, the other, comfortable with the possibility that some things will never

change, and maybe this concept wasn't meant for me to get. Either way is bad in terms of the status of "we".

There's some things as a person you should never settle for that cause unhappiness. That's for men and women alike, and neither should feel bad because things just don't work out sometimes. That's where I'm at with it. We get along great as friends but as a couple, ended up not being strong enough. Just... I'm usually good at this. I'm good at picking people I'm compatible with and am usually best friends with my boyfriends while we date. Maybe we could still be friends after all this blows over. Who knows. Regardless, this guy inspired me to spread myself in different ways and I thank him for that. Before I left the last time we saw each other I remembered my last project. My first portrait that I decided to do months ago but for some reason never finished. Honestly, I didn't want to keep it as a token of anything so I left it as a gift. But I did want to take a picture just to say: I did that. 

     "Do you mind doing me one last favor?" I asked.

     "Sure. What is it?" he asked cautiously, raising his eyebrows.

     " You mind taking a picture of me holding this out back? My camera's in the car." I looked down at the picture, and felt the canvas.

     "Sure."

     "It's funny that I'm not keeping my first painting." I said jokingly, taking him in.

     "Naw. You not supposed to. That's the whole point." he replied, smiling at me.

     "Yeah, I guess so. You know paintings and stuff only get appreciated after the artists' dead." I responded a-matter-of-factly. He says nothing. 

      

     

i can't listen to tupac in the car.

If you've ever been to Atlanta, you'll remember the clubs, the women, and the stars. Once you live in Atlanta, you realize just how long it takes to get anywhere! And even though it is considered one of the top "come up" states, it is not a place where you can go with $500 and a dream. You have to at least have a car. One thing I have to do when I'm riding is to have good, consistent, riding music. Something that's going to keep you calm waiting for the senior citizen with a huge town car to decide which direction to turn. Something that's going to make a 10 minute trip really feel like 10 minutes. Certain CD's are perfect for these situations: 'B Day', 'Demon Days', 'The Love Below', 'Soul Food', and any personal neo soul mix are my preferred choices. 

I was one of those children who wasn't allowed to listen to rap music until I hit a certain age. So now, it's like playing catch up with it all. My boyfriend is big on west coast music and has introduced me to Quick, NWA, and schooled me on the history and inspiration behind the sound. Being from D.C., most of it never really appealed to me, but when I was younger, Tupac was my guy! It wasn't his constant political lyrics, or his bald head that made me pay attention to him. He was the first nigga to make something as taboo as a nose ring look good! 

I'm too smart to leave my justification on the fact that he sported a half carat on his nostril. If I say, "i like" anything, I have to have a reason why. Its the most idiotic thing to literally stand for something just because everyone else is. when people say they like/hate someone 'just cause', that's bullshit. There's definitely a reason... speak on it!

But anyway, turned out that he's a pretty interesting, well rounded, intelligent.. thug. Ha. I appreciate his intensity in his music and recording. If you have the chance to experience the whole recording process, you might not understand the necessity of all the 'extra'. The candles, smell goods, women, liquor, weed, it's all important. It's all about recreating the feeling. I can listen to 'Hellraiser' and see him shirtless with an unloaded AK getting all in the mic's face, taking out all his frustrations out on it. That song is so intense I can feel him. He has the power to bring you to whatever state he was trying to get you in. Mostly he makes me think and he provokes anger in me that inspires change. It just seems that the closer a person comes to understanding how the world really is, and emphasis the things that government or the 'powers that be' try to sweep under the rug.. your time gets cut short.

The best thing about music [to me] is that if the song is a good song, the artist can make you feel whatever they want you to feel. This guy does it for me. Just not on the one way streets of Atlanta during rush hour. A trip from Juniper to Fulton took entirely too long to make and Pac's thug passion only made my maneuver strategy even more frustrating. 

check out one of my favorite tupac clips. you wonder why 'they' call you bitch? here's pac's take:

                                                                                                                                                      
                                 

Not only did he sincerely not give a fuck about too much, he has the best work ethic! I don't know any other artist that has countless albums, a self written screenplay in development, a musical his mom is working on, a foundation that has a chapter here in Stone Mountain, and a few books in the making... 13 years after his passing. Guess this proves at least one thing: you can't snuff the messenger. 

piece of pie!

I have been absolutely craving sweets lately, which is out of the ordinary for me. My previous years of indulgence on pound cakes, peanut butter cookies, chocolate bunnies at easter.. had turned me off soooo much. Sherbert ice cream, brownies and blondies, argh! You guys get my point. Nowadays, it's not me that craves those things, but my monthly...

I'm getting older, and I'm starting to feel every time I have one too many, I regret having those chili cheese fries, and quite frankly, sugar makes my complexion dull as hell. You are what you eat 'they' say, and you know if 'they' said it, then it must be true! No but seriously, I've always been a cheerleader for veggies and exercise. I've seen the benefits of that type of discipline from my body building aunts and uncles and 'frumpy' is a condition I won't accept from myself. 

Even though I am a woman of small stature, one thing I love is food.     As I get older and my taste buds 'matured', I've been more open to different combinations and flavors. My latest at home kick has been fruit. The DelMonte citrus salad is my shit! 

My last trip to Kroger caused me to pick up a blueberry pie. Just like me to buy a whole pie, just for myself. I always spoil myself when it comes to stuff that I want and I work hard at eating right and staying fit. I deserve a little treat from time to time.

few fun facts about blueberries:

• 2nd most popular berry [strawberry being the 1st]
• contains antibacterial and antiviral compounds, and has show to protect against heart disease
• fruit of New Jersey
• can be served fresh, processed, canned, frozen, dried, or in a liquid
• a top fruit for antioxidant activity [slows process of aging]
• used in ink by early American colonists
• best bought in summer time
  

source: foodreference.com

So even though I said that I baked a pie... look, the point is I made it ok. And it was good.

 Thought I would share some of the goodness! 

no day like the present.

written: march 7,2oo9

I woke up this morning to the best gift of all. And I mean it. Life is simply the best thing going for me. I heard from all the people who mattered to me the most and re connected with some friends and family members that I haven't talked to in a while. I feel like it's the end of a long road of confusion and I can start another difficult one. But that's ok, if the outcome is as sweet as it is now. If I had to decribe the feeling of the day it would be peaceful. I got up early and did exactly what I wanted: watch movies, snacked on biscuits and jelly, and text my Carmen, D, and Jordan. I was glad that it was warm outside and I kept the balcony door open. That evening was dinner with the Mr. at one of my favorite spots. We got last minute reservations with no problem [considering it was Saturday evening in Atlanta], and was seated at the perfect table outside with the skyline view. 

I had the pork with backed macaroni and cheese, salmon chips with capers and cream cheese [appetizer], and cranberry/apple cobbler for dessert. I tried a new martini that tasted like spiked, peach flavored tea, and had me talking extra by the end of the first one.

I have cut down my drinking dramatically [yay! so proud!] but it's kinda scary because I still drink at the same rate= little drunken girl gettin' it on the dance floor. I have to literally space my drinks out with a tall glass of water. 

Other coincidences happened today: Chantrelle's had the "good" soul food sides, the hood fair is in town, and everyone had to turn their watches up an hour.

Notice I didn't mention anything about gifts or anything material because a.] it's not about that and b.] it's none of your business! I just don't find it necessary to find birthdays or new years to make changes or get a gift, if there's the rest of year to get the same results. I went through the whole hoopla of the birthday last year....

march 10, 2008

I had made plans to go to club Dreamz with my 'best friend' to celebrate both of our birthdays. We had been talking on the phone all day, even though we were 

both separately with our sweeties and had been looking forward to going to the club. I went to the mall just in case I saw something I just 'had' to get, even picked up these ridiculous ' i heart my bff' buttons for us to wear. Evening came and I continued to text my friend to let her know of the status of my preparation. It was time to go and I jumped in the car to head to the restaurant where her and her guy were eating. I called her on the phone to learn that they were in the midst of an argument. He was one of those guys that liked to control women through subtle manipulation. In tonight's case: let's start a fight. I just wasn't aware that she was actually going to fall for it! And of course he brings in his 4 year old daughter into the mix. And she falls for that! Needless to say, she ended up leaving with him and I ended up riding out to the club dolo. Which I don't mind doing from time to time. I met the nicest white people in vip and they made up for my flaky friend.

I didn't want to go through the anxiety of setting up a bday week or put months in with a high roller to ensure an expensive gift. I figure what might go wrong usually does and if I had to pick a  day to jinx myself with high expectations it would not be on my birthday. Last year taught me that even your friends could let you down, so I just let whoever wanted to be a part of my day, be involved voluntarily. As a result, I got surprises along the way. "Gabby" gave me reassurance and a message from my Dad. We talked for about 5 hours straight, but didn't feel like we even scratched the surface. Blak let me know how important friendships are and reminded me that you need to always let the people you love know you love them; because tomorrow isn't guaranteed. It seems to be so easy to forget the people who see you when you're down, during the times when you actually need help. Being in that position is a very humbling experience and most end up feeling more embarrassed by their journey than triumphant. 

Even though we all fall, it looks much better on paper to say you've made all the right, integrous choices that never left you assed out or exposed. 

I thought I was forgotten about. Ever since I decided to hang up my dancing shoes, a lot of people started acting differently towards me and even some of the friends I had met during those years have distanced themselves. Maybe they feel we don't have anything to talk about. I dunno. Most people have been so wrapped up in their own issues that it didn't leave much energy for anyone else. I can relate to that completely. All the unexpected calls from people wishing my a happy birthday and to hear that those that matter love and think about me often felt good. To know where I stand in the hearts of my loved ones.  

march madness.

.
*I felt compelled to include this clip that I took while taking my Mr.'s pooch out for a squat. Yeah, I didn't have to, but aren't you glad I did...?

An out of the ordinary event occurred yesterday for every true atlien. We got snow that actually stuck! I don't mean the powdered sugared shit that hits the ground and then is gone, but the big, oatmeal flakes that fuck up your vision if they fly into your eye. Seeing snow wasn't personally shocking. Growing up on the east coast and midwest I've seen many white Christmas', new years, black history months. But it was beautiful and fell constantly all day long. I think the craziest happenings that I remember that involved snow was back in 1990 is South Dakota. We received enough hail to have snowball fights in July! Of course in the south, we're not completely prepared for unexpected weather. We have no salt trucks, maybe a handful of plow-like machines. Schools, churches, and some businesses closed for the day. I wonder what Mayor Franklin would have done if we all woke up to this:

I remained inside, drinking all things that are warm and watched the people on the street drive with super caution. By the next morning, things were basically back to normal. The melting snow sounded like the perfect rainstorm.           

feed my dreams

Everybody needs somebody... sometimes. And if it's not a 'one' it's a 'thing'. Everyone needs some force to drive them to improvement. It cracks me up to read on Myspace that people are"self made". Really? So you were the one who made your skin thick? Or taught you who to trust? Let me guess, you were on the lucky ones who were born with what they call "swagger" by elementary. The fitted jeans and fitted long john shirt was something you just "threw on". And your vernacular has nothing to do with your peers. I mean, am I the only one who's ready to come clean about the makings of me? I use everything around me for motivation; good and bad. Some people think they don't need to learn anything from anyone, but everyone has something to offer. It's all on you to choose what to take. It's easier to look at negative things and see what you don't want for yourself or simply take lumps as lessons learned than most think. To come out on

 top, instead of accepted stumbling blocks as defeat.

Why does it seem like it takes so long for some lessons to stick? Today a valuable one sunk in deep, all the way past the white meat. I know I need a lot. One of the things I know I need is encouragement. Especially when it comes to something I'm serious about like my music or job frustrations. I learned during a conversation with a friend that my enthusiasm or open mindedness is not always appreciated. I don't consider myself an energizer bunny of good will and my switch isn't always on. I get tired. I don't answer the phone. But I pride myself on being receptive on people's needs. I know when someone deserves to be angry, and when they're just being a brat and want to be spoiled. I ask off the wall but relevant questions to inspire something. But I learned that some people just don't want to hear it and would rather stay on their own track of thinking. That's fine.

Let me tell you my preference: feed my dream. Don't kiss my ass but give me what I need. I want my ideas to have partners and neighbors to spark their intellect. And I will continue to nourish them by asking questions and google searching. Until they're full and fat and grow big and strong. Don't shoot me down. That will only piss me off and feed the dynamo you can't see. Because I'm using everything as a tool. I have nothing left to do but hurl the rock you staged as your heart back at you. Leaving you bruised and me, world's lighter.

The world is your oyster. Take what you can to benefit yourself as a person and get the hell on. No on has time to hear the problems that seem never ending. Most of us still have dreaming to do.

i like white boys who know how to pop

A few days ago I was watching America's Next Best Dance Crew and caught a routine before Lil Mama's annoying two pennies. A co-ed group of dancers entered the stage in vintage suits, chiffon prom dresses, and tennis shoes. Most of them were white and they added a twist by including a deaf asian [who lost his hearing aid during the previous round]. They play the music and start the routine. Damn, that asian boy is getting it! He's throwing in the "what bitch" face and everything! I was zeroed in on him, hoping he didn't miss a beat, when the routine transitioned and placed him in the back. The group then [boys and girls] turned around, dropped, and gave me.... well at least 20. All I could see were parallel thighs, a pulsating back bone, and the end of 'his' powder blue jacket create a hump that I'd never noticed on the guy before. And it disappeared. And resurfaced. Oh shit! That's his ass! How cute!

Now before you start looking all sideways, understand what I mean: I love men in every sense of the word and there's nothing better than a manly man but I find it absolutely sexy when a man can let his guard down and pull something... unexpected from his pocket. Ain't nothin' wrong with serving your girl with a little spin move in the kitchen in your socks to make her laugh. Or a little strip tease in the bedroom with the lights down low. It's not considered being a punk... look at it as giving your girl some act right. You'd be surprised to learn what she'll do for you by making her feel you'd do anything for her.

Boys, boys, boys. I used to be stuck on dark skin when I first started dating. Jason was my first and was a taller, thicker version of Wesley Snipes. Waiting to Exhale, not White Man Can't Jump. No doubt his presence was strong and I always felt safe and sexier than any other woman. Our bodies would be next to each other and I would be mesmerized by the color contrast and think of all the exotic shades of brown we could make. My next love and I were about the same exact color. Which was a little weird to me at first because my preference is any skin tone darker than mine. I'm telling you it's aaaaall about the contrast. Because of it, people used to say we looked like brother and sister [which was so not sexy] but I noticed a constant sheen that I had never seen naturally in skin that made me love it. My current love is about the same color as my Dad. Fair with yellow undertones, clear of blotchiness and childhood scars , and soft as hell. It's weird because subconciously, a young girl grows up adoring her father and set out in life looking for the next best thing. I used to want to marry my Dad [when I was 5] and was definitely deeply in love. But I'm not sure exactly if that means to model a man after looks, or personality.

The trend of my men has shown that I've moved completely across the spectrum. Which makes me wonder who's coming next to dinner? I'm guessing a white boy or asian. That's the only thing that makes sense. I transferred to a 90% white school in Georgia and my only choices were underclassmen, white boys, or people from different schools. Dealing with someone who could potentially be in my younger brothers class was out of the question and I had no car so... yeah. I would still try to show mild interest but they never bit for me. At the time I was a track captain who wrote for the school and county paper and lived 3 houses down from the mayor of our city. I figured they would at least bend because of my resume. I figured wrong.

Throughout my lifetime I've had my share of crushes. When I finally reached the age where that shit didn't matter, I did take a friend up on an offer. We had a great time talking and smoking a private stash of white widow. We fed our munchies desire with a suggestion to Bennihannas and even though I offered to treat since he had never been there, he looked at me insulted when I reached for the check. After that, I convinced him to join me at the Uptown comedy show for a laugh, and he quickly accepted. Yeah, it was different but in a refreshing way. Oh Mike, I think it was all the stories about your prejudice people in bean town that scared me. And with that mafia- like last name, I imagined pulling up at the Soprano house and getting a welcoming I wasn't sure I could handle. But maybe that's the problem: thinking like that. Consuming your life with worries of perception. Sure, the parents might be mad to see Maxwell C. Elliot III with someone who looks like me, but this is the way I now see it: they'll be dead soon, it all looks the same when the lights go out, and they'll be happy to know that at least their grand daughters have natural body to their hair.