Baby bird #1 has left the nest. Sprouted some wings and took her first solo flight, with the help of mama bird and siblings. It was a both a beautiful and emotional Saturday, as I watched her directing the movers as to how she wanted her things to be placed on the truck (Even now, she is such a diva.), it occured to me that I have raised an increbibly responsible, beautiful, very bright young lady. There have definitely been moments over the past few years where I have worried, even beleiving at one period from about 13 to 16 that my child's brain was absorbed by aliens and replaced with that of a Martian. However I look at my gorgeous young lady today and thank God she has turned into a remarkable young lady who has the whole world at her feet. I am so grateful for the following:
She was born.
She was tough even from the beginning.
She knows God for herself.
She's strong.
She loves her family.
She now loves herself
She has morals and integrity.
She listens.
She's intelligent.
She's beginning to see the big picture.
She wants more than what her surroundings have shown her
She didn't get pregnant. (Thank You Jesus)
She makes the right choices.
She wants to make her parents proud.
She knows she is loved.
She's already a talented writer.
She has not limited herself.
She loves her brother and sister dearly.
She's not on drugs, overweight, anorexic, stealing, fighting, wandering, being a hood rat, looking for a 'baby's daddy, going to jail or hurting anyone for her own personal gain.
She thinks heavy.
She's a giver
She had some hard times that have molded her in positive way.
She uses her head.
She accepts challenges and proves herself
She grew up
Got too big for the nest
She left knowing (there'll always be a place for her if needed)
She left with a smile.
She left with my bedroom suit
She left with my favorite painting
She left with my love.
She left me in tears...Happy tears, sad tears, lonely tears....Proud Mama bird tears.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Toes that Smile
I remember it as if it were just yesterday. We were walking on our way to Caroline's to see the latest comedy act and enjoy one another's company. We were walking the streets of New York, I had on my favorite jeans, and a sexy pair of pumps. I looked pretty hot for a mother of three if I say so myself.(and I do) After walking for a period, my feet began to hurt. He noticed. Ladies, I was still representing, even with my aching pinky toes. So we found a place to sit on the street. He slowly removed my shoes, one at a time, and began to lovingly message my feet. Thousands of pedestrians are walking to and fro, and this man gazes into my eyes making me feel like the most beautiful woman to grace God's earth. His only concern was for my comfort and well being. I struggled to hold back the tears, and this morning as he and I were talking, I just remembered. I remembered this act of love specifically because not every man will rub a woman's feet on a city street. He has no shame in letting me know I'm important in his world. Cool thing is, he's still like that. He's romantic, sexy, giving, hard working, and he shares himself with me in the most beautiful ways. Now, every time I wiggle my cute little toes, I'll remember the smile he put on them.
Monday, July 25, 2005
The Chain Letter
Does anyone remember Chain Letters?
I remember during my childhood, my parents were extremely supersticious. I never quite understood why they seemed to feed into some of the things they did, but, I was a part of a household of women who firmly beleived that certain things, you had to do, to have good karma. No walking under ladders, splitting poles, crossing a black cat's path, all that stuff was a part of my world, but the one I remember most is Chain Letters Although I was sent to church faithfully every Sunday and taught to beleive that God was good and I needed to trust in Him, no one else in my home attended. I always thought this strange, but back then, you just didn't question the actions of your elders. Chain letters were a big part of my life as a child and may have given my me love for writing beleive it or not. Back in the 70's chain letters were mailed to various homes. The letter contained information that basically stated, if you don't write and mail out 50 or 100 copies of this letter you will have bad luck and somebody in your family will die. However if you do mail out the appropriate number of copies, you will have good luck and be blessed with various financial blessings over the next 3 months. I remember being about 8yrs years old, when I sat down with my mother and aunt as they feverishly began hand writing copies of this letter to mail out to other families in our city. I thought it was a crock, but I dare not speak up or I would get a swift pop in the mouth. I simply picked up my pen and started copying the contents of the letter. I would sit in our breakfast nook for hours writing these letters, all the while fuming because there were other things a child my age should be doing. Like playing with candy wrappers, or scratching my mosquito bites. Anything but writing chain letters. Only thing good that seemed to come from it was I was allowed to sit and listen to some grown folks gossip, and that was always fun.
Here is a typical format of a chain letter:
Dear Recipient, You are recieving this letter as both a warning and and a blessing. Do not under any circumstances break this chain. Send 100 copies of this letter to family and friends so that we may continue to be blessed throughout our country and world. Sham Flam from, Decatur Ga recieved a letter back in June of 1973. He followed the direction and sent it to his friends and family. In August of that same year, he was on a fishing boat in Florida, and a storm arose. His boat capsized and sharks surrounded him. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the coast gaurd appeared and saved Sham's life. He would have surely been eaten alive by the sharks had it not been for the heroics of the coast guard. When Sham returned home, there was a check in his mailboxt for $43,275.00 He was astonished by his great fortune, and credits it all to not breaking this chain. Please be good to yourself and keep this chain going. In 1975, Molly McButter received a chain letter and left it on her coffee table for several weeks. While cleaning one day, she decided to disregard the contents after reading and tossed the letter in a pile of old mail. God forbid. Two months later Molly suffered a fatal stroke. She was 27 years old. Her mother found the chain letter and shared it with family and friends at Molly's funeral. This is imperative. Do not break the chain. All you have to do is write out by hand 100 copies of this letter and mail it to family and friends. If you don't have tht many people in your family, simply go to your local phone directory and share this chain with people from your communities. Thank you in advance for saving your own lives, and may blessing follow you where you go. Remember, your life and good fortune rests in the chain. Don't break it!
....There you have it, a standard chain letter. We have them on line now too, and I receiveed one only yesterday and this childhood memory surfaced. It still amazes me what we allow others to inflict upon us. I used to think the post office started these chains to keep people purchasing large amount of postage stamps, but my mother refused to beleive that when I suggested it was a farce. A fellow poet even started his own chain on line, telling readers that it was imperative they go to his site and purchase his book or bad luck would follow. He also instructed them to forward the eamil to at least 8 other people so that God's blessings would reach all who read his book. (using God to promote your own personal wealth...imagine that)
I smiled to myself as I quickly deleted his email. I smiled as I thought of all the blessings that have followed me even after I began to destroy those annoying and untruthful letters. Here's a chain for everyone who reads this. Be good to each other, don't send out stupid letters as scare tactics, just treat people the way you want to be treated and the world just might be a better place. You can pass this message along if you want, but if you choose not too, your house won't blow up nor will your toes fall off from the scorching heat. The only thing that will happen is somewhere along the way, someone else might say the same thing again, and you'll just have another opportunity to hear it again.
Be blessed People!
I remember during my childhood, my parents were extremely supersticious. I never quite understood why they seemed to feed into some of the things they did, but, I was a part of a household of women who firmly beleived that certain things, you had to do, to have good karma. No walking under ladders, splitting poles, crossing a black cat's path, all that stuff was a part of my world, but the one I remember most is Chain Letters Although I was sent to church faithfully every Sunday and taught to beleive that God was good and I needed to trust in Him, no one else in my home attended. I always thought this strange, but back then, you just didn't question the actions of your elders. Chain letters were a big part of my life as a child and may have given my me love for writing beleive it or not. Back in the 70's chain letters were mailed to various homes. The letter contained information that basically stated, if you don't write and mail out 50 or 100 copies of this letter you will have bad luck and somebody in your family will die. However if you do mail out the appropriate number of copies, you will have good luck and be blessed with various financial blessings over the next 3 months. I remember being about 8yrs years old, when I sat down with my mother and aunt as they feverishly began hand writing copies of this letter to mail out to other families in our city. I thought it was a crock, but I dare not speak up or I would get a swift pop in the mouth. I simply picked up my pen and started copying the contents of the letter. I would sit in our breakfast nook for hours writing these letters, all the while fuming because there were other things a child my age should be doing. Like playing with candy wrappers, or scratching my mosquito bites. Anything but writing chain letters. Only thing good that seemed to come from it was I was allowed to sit and listen to some grown folks gossip, and that was always fun.
Here is a typical format of a chain letter:
Dear Recipient, You are recieving this letter as both a warning and and a blessing. Do not under any circumstances break this chain. Send 100 copies of this letter to family and friends so that we may continue to be blessed throughout our country and world. Sham Flam from, Decatur Ga recieved a letter back in June of 1973. He followed the direction and sent it to his friends and family. In August of that same year, he was on a fishing boat in Florida, and a storm arose. His boat capsized and sharks surrounded him. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the coast gaurd appeared and saved Sham's life. He would have surely been eaten alive by the sharks had it not been for the heroics of the coast guard. When Sham returned home, there was a check in his mailboxt for $43,275.00 He was astonished by his great fortune, and credits it all to not breaking this chain. Please be good to yourself and keep this chain going. In 1975, Molly McButter received a chain letter and left it on her coffee table for several weeks. While cleaning one day, she decided to disregard the contents after reading and tossed the letter in a pile of old mail. God forbid. Two months later Molly suffered a fatal stroke. She was 27 years old. Her mother found the chain letter and shared it with family and friends at Molly's funeral. This is imperative. Do not break the chain. All you have to do is write out by hand 100 copies of this letter and mail it to family and friends. If you don't have tht many people in your family, simply go to your local phone directory and share this chain with people from your communities. Thank you in advance for saving your own lives, and may blessing follow you where you go. Remember, your life and good fortune rests in the chain. Don't break it!
....There you have it, a standard chain letter. We have them on line now too, and I receiveed one only yesterday and this childhood memory surfaced. It still amazes me what we allow others to inflict upon us. I used to think the post office started these chains to keep people purchasing large amount of postage stamps, but my mother refused to beleive that when I suggested it was a farce. A fellow poet even started his own chain on line, telling readers that it was imperative they go to his site and purchase his book or bad luck would follow. He also instructed them to forward the eamil to at least 8 other people so that God's blessings would reach all who read his book. (using God to promote your own personal wealth...imagine that)
I smiled to myself as I quickly deleted his email. I smiled as I thought of all the blessings that have followed me even after I began to destroy those annoying and untruthful letters. Here's a chain for everyone who reads this. Be good to each other, don't send out stupid letters as scare tactics, just treat people the way you want to be treated and the world just might be a better place. You can pass this message along if you want, but if you choose not too, your house won't blow up nor will your toes fall off from the scorching heat. The only thing that will happen is somewhere along the way, someone else might say the same thing again, and you'll just have another opportunity to hear it again.
Be blessed People!
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Friday Night Girls Chat
Last night was interesting to say the least. I had a chance to talk with a group of women from a couple of online groups that I'm a part of. To be truthful, I was trying not to be a part as I am still a lil hesitant when it comes to being a part of a group of nothing but sista's(maybe growing up as the only girl had something to do with that) but somehow God is moolding me to make me appreciate sistahood. We had good conversations which ranged from hair care to cancer to boy toys (boy toys) that one still makes me smile. Anyway, it was a very pleasant relaxing evening and afterwards, I found myself completely exhausted so I fell into bed around 1am.
Today, I'm back up hard at work on my book, trying to keep my focus as it looks like its gonna be a beautiful day, and the outdoors are calling me. Ok, maybe I'll go out and shop for a while then work later on this evening. Yea that sounds like a plan. Have a great weekend fellow bloggers.
Today, I'm back up hard at work on my book, trying to keep my focus as it looks like its gonna be a beautiful day, and the outdoors are calling me. Ok, maybe I'll go out and shop for a while then work later on this evening. Yea that sounds like a plan. Have a great weekend fellow bloggers.
Friday, July 22, 2005
I wish I wish I wish
I've recently discovered that I don't embrace change as much as I thought I would. I'm moving forward, but somedays at a snails pace. Yesterday I ask my boyfriend what day was it. He responded, "you know that means your either doing too much, or not enough when you can't remember the day of the week.' I smiled and quickly responded. Oh yeah, Im doing way too much. Truth is, I think I lied. I'm moving too slow and not doing as much as I should, simply because I'm kind of afraid of the uncertainty of certain changes in my near future. I'm pushing every day. Guess I try a little harder today.
Let's make a wish!
If you had an opportninty to change anything about you today ', what would it be and why? It can be physical, mental, emotional, demographics, anything at all. Some of us might say, we want a bigger income or a better home, but who's willing to admit they want to change something about their personalities, or character?
I'll be the first to admit, I wish I used a larger portion of my brain, and I wish to be more organized. Shedding a few pounds would be nice too. Whew, that was hard Dr. Phil. Now can I go eat?
Let's make a wish!
If you had an opportninty to change anything about you today ', what would it be and why? It can be physical, mental, emotional, demographics, anything at all. Some of us might say, we want a bigger income or a better home, but who's willing to admit they want to change something about their personalities, or character?
I'll be the first to admit, I wish I used a larger portion of my brain, and I wish to be more organized. Shedding a few pounds would be nice too. Whew, that was hard Dr. Phil. Now can I go eat?
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Call it what you like
Is there a perception bigger or smaller than that which we see of ourselves? How many times do we find ourselves questioning our own abilities or putting ourselves in positions to attempt the impossible? We create situations that warrant the help of others, but often reject that help because we are conditioned to doing things on our own. (Who died and made you a mountain?) Have you ever met someone so hardheaded you knew they were destined for some sort of failure, but they convinced themselves they didn't need anyone? Stubborn people always have fascinated me, especially those who try and function in intimate relationships knowing they really wish they could be their own partner in every way because allowing someone else a little closeness in their lives simply makes them somehow less SUPERHUMAN.
Today, I’m going to let my real genius shine through. I’ll accept help when it’s necessary because as great as I am, I still need others to make it through this life.
signed....The lonely writer who's never really alone.
Today, I’m going to let my real genius shine through. I’ll accept help when it’s necessary because as great as I am, I still need others to make it through this life.
signed....The lonely writer who's never really alone.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Maya's Words
I've been up all night, putting the finishing touches on what looks to be a great literary accomplishment. What started as a simple project has turned into a major thing. It feels so good to be wanted, but someone should have told me it would take so much work. I would have cloned myself long ago. I'm drained and I need a lift. Her words do it for me every time.
"Still I Rise"
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Maya Angelou
"Still I Rise"
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Maya Angelou
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Can You Hear Me Now???
Im lying on the beach somewhere in Brazil, sipping on Mai-Tai's with an incredibly sexy Brazilian beach boy waiting on me hand and foot. The skies are a pristine blue, and I smile softly as I inhale the fresh ocean water. The waves lightly serenade me, as I stare into the beautiful brown eyes of this gorgeous brown man. He stands over me asking if he can rub some more sun screen on my back? I continue to smile....He asks again, "Hey beautiful Can you hear me? Can You Hear Me? Then he's tugging on my arm asking me, Hey, Can you hear me?.....Suddenly my sexy beach boy's voice begins to change into this high pitched whine........
Hey can you hear me? Can you hear me now......MAMA, CAN YOU HEAR ME, WAKE UP!!!! I'm no longer on my beach in Brazil. I'm in my bed with my teenage daughter standing over me tugging at my arm. "Mama, I'm gonna die, she says' 'What's wrong Kortny' I say, as I reluctantly pull myself out of bed for another one of her Hypocondriatic episodes.
She's jumping around getting very excited. I look at the clock. 6:15 am. Enough time to go back to Brazil if I can get her to quiet down and go to sleep. Ok, what's the problem? Well Ma, I was cleaning my ears and the Q-tip broke off in my hear. Not a problem, go get the tweezers and nurse Mama will have this solved in 2.5 seconds. She hurries off to get the tweezers while I try and figure out if my Brazilian boy had a six pack or an eight pack. Damn he was fine. He's calling me. My mouth waters as I think of all that the second portion of sleep will contain.
So now I'm digging in my daughters ear trying to get this foreign object removed when she starts screaming. Not crying, just screaming. 'Ok, let's just go to the emergency room Ma cause I'm scared that infection may set in and I'll have permanent hearing loss which, will lead to brain damange. My daughter has not slept in 24 hours and has a tendancy to over think things as much as I do....
So now we defy traffic signals and speed limits getting to the hospital in record time. We walk into the empty E.R and explain to the doctor what has happened. He checks her ear and much to our dismay, there is absolutely nothing in it. The whole ear canal is completely clear. We stare at the doctor. Are you sure, I ask? Yes says the good doctor. May she just rubbed it too hard and thought she broke the q-tip off in there. I smile at the doctor while inside I can see the beach boy laughing at me from somewhere in my subconscious.
Diagnosis: Foreign Body Irritation
Remedy: Do not clean ears after not sleeping for over 24 hours, it may cause Hallucinations.
On the way home, my daughter looks at me and says. "Ma, I'm sorry. I really thught I had something in my ear."
'No problem', I say. 'But as soon as we get home, I'm calling that nice physchologist we took you to a while back.' "Ma, do you think I'm crazy?' 'No, baby, of course not. The appointment is for me. I want to see if he can prescribe me something strong enough so I can sleep through your next accidently non-existant injury because thus far, Nyquil doesn't work.'
She looks at me, and I smile at her as we pull into our driveway. It's now 7:13 a.m and the beach boy has left me for a blonde Norwegian chick with big boobs. Damn!
Hey can you hear me? Can you hear me now......MAMA, CAN YOU HEAR ME, WAKE UP!!!! I'm no longer on my beach in Brazil. I'm in my bed with my teenage daughter standing over me tugging at my arm. "Mama, I'm gonna die, she says' 'What's wrong Kortny' I say, as I reluctantly pull myself out of bed for another one of her Hypocondriatic episodes.
She's jumping around getting very excited. I look at the clock. 6:15 am. Enough time to go back to Brazil if I can get her to quiet down and go to sleep. Ok, what's the problem? Well Ma, I was cleaning my ears and the Q-tip broke off in my hear. Not a problem, go get the tweezers and nurse Mama will have this solved in 2.5 seconds. She hurries off to get the tweezers while I try and figure out if my Brazilian boy had a six pack or an eight pack. Damn he was fine. He's calling me. My mouth waters as I think of all that the second portion of sleep will contain.
So now I'm digging in my daughters ear trying to get this foreign object removed when she starts screaming. Not crying, just screaming. 'Ok, let's just go to the emergency room Ma cause I'm scared that infection may set in and I'll have permanent hearing loss which, will lead to brain damange. My daughter has not slept in 24 hours and has a tendancy to over think things as much as I do....
So now we defy traffic signals and speed limits getting to the hospital in record time. We walk into the empty E.R and explain to the doctor what has happened. He checks her ear and much to our dismay, there is absolutely nothing in it. The whole ear canal is completely clear. We stare at the doctor. Are you sure, I ask? Yes says the good doctor. May she just rubbed it too hard and thought she broke the q-tip off in there. I smile at the doctor while inside I can see the beach boy laughing at me from somewhere in my subconscious.
Diagnosis: Foreign Body Irritation
Remedy: Do not clean ears after not sleeping for over 24 hours, it may cause Hallucinations.
On the way home, my daughter looks at me and says. "Ma, I'm sorry. I really thught I had something in my ear."
'No problem', I say. 'But as soon as we get home, I'm calling that nice physchologist we took you to a while back.' "Ma, do you think I'm crazy?' 'No, baby, of course not. The appointment is for me. I want to see if he can prescribe me something strong enough so I can sleep through your next accidently non-existant injury because thus far, Nyquil doesn't work.'
She looks at me, and I smile at her as we pull into our driveway. It's now 7:13 a.m and the beach boy has left me for a blonde Norwegian chick with big boobs. Damn!
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Why didn't you just pray?
This battle I'm in
fighting against my own flesh,
Warring against sin
can't be won
if drastic measures aren't done
Can somebody please pray?
I don't mean say one of those
Bless her O'God while watching TV kinda joints
but that old school, get down on your knees
kill the radio, internet and TV kinda joints
pleading the blood, putting down plate and pen
and asking God to get me out of this sin
forgive me once again
Engage in warfare, for your sista, or your brother
Sacrifice for the greater good
of another soul
and in the end
God won't have to look at you and say
"Why didn't you just pray?"
Icylyrics 2005
fighting against my own flesh,
Warring against sin
can't be won
if drastic measures aren't done
Can somebody please pray?
I don't mean say one of those
Bless her O'God while watching TV kinda joints
but that old school, get down on your knees
kill the radio, internet and TV kinda joints
pleading the blood, putting down plate and pen
and asking God to get me out of this sin
forgive me once again
Engage in warfare, for your sista, or your brother
Sacrifice for the greater good
of another soul
and in the end
God won't have to look at you and say
"Why didn't you just pray?"
Icylyrics 2005
Friday, July 15, 2005
What Defines Me?
Some days the wind feels good against my face...
other days the thought of no movement at all makes me smile....
This is one such day!
I've been asking myself that question a lot these past couple of days. I came home to peace and quiet, home in order, children doing well, yet inside I was so unhappy. I'm not sure why. Yesterday I began reading a new book called 'In my bedroom' by Donna Hill, and the book is explosive as it brings to light the emotional strain a woman goes through after suffering different types of abuse. I was once abused. Now I deal with the effects of the past every day. Whether I want to or not. Anyway there was a quote in the book where one of the doctors was telling a patient at the mental hospital....Don't let where you are define who you are. I been thinking about this all night. If I am not to be defined by where I am in my life, what exactly defines me? All my minor accomplishments don't seem to amount to anything major. Or is that just me beating up on myself. Before anyone reads this and makes some type of assumption, allow me to say, I am not depressed. That is not where I am. Just a woman trying to figure some things out and get there. Where? To that place where I can answer a question without asking another question.....
My daughter loved her new clothes and I found my very first poetry disk. Maybe I'm not as unhappy as I thought.
other days the thought of no movement at all makes me smile....
This is one such day!
I've been asking myself that question a lot these past couple of days. I came home to peace and quiet, home in order, children doing well, yet inside I was so unhappy. I'm not sure why. Yesterday I began reading a new book called 'In my bedroom' by Donna Hill, and the book is explosive as it brings to light the emotional strain a woman goes through after suffering different types of abuse. I was once abused. Now I deal with the effects of the past every day. Whether I want to or not. Anyway there was a quote in the book where one of the doctors was telling a patient at the mental hospital....Don't let where you are define who you are. I been thinking about this all night. If I am not to be defined by where I am in my life, what exactly defines me? All my minor accomplishments don't seem to amount to anything major. Or is that just me beating up on myself. Before anyone reads this and makes some type of assumption, allow me to say, I am not depressed. That is not where I am. Just a woman trying to figure some things out and get there. Where? To that place where I can answer a question without asking another question.....
My daughter loved her new clothes and I found my very first poetry disk. Maybe I'm not as unhappy as I thought.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Preliminary Sadness
You ever know for a fact that at a particular moment in your future you were gonna be sad, torn apart, broke down, hurt? Felt it coming. Even if you didn't wanna believe it, you just knew that the results of something in your life would just make you sad. Like distance. Distance from those you love sucks. For me its like a doble edged sword, getting to reunite with one group of loved ones while walking away from another. My heart hurts right now becase tomorrow I may have to shed a few tears. I hate to cry. It makes me feel weak. I'm confessing something here and I'm not sure why, but I pray I get stronger. I don't want to be sad for long, but it hurts just the same. Tomorow I won't blog because my fingers will be numb, and my soul will be in another place. I'll smile and say, everything's ok, but it won't be because I've discovered something in my 37 years of living. You can't be everywhere at the same time. Unless of course you get the patent on one of those clonning machines.
Puddle of Black Woman on a Hard Wood Floor
It's all a haze right now. I got up sometime during the middle of the night to go get a drink of water, when it occurred to me...My legs are not operating properly As soon as I put my feet on the floor, all my weight collapsed and I ended up being a puddle of black woman on a HardWood floor. I began to laugh, as did my partner who was the culprit who caused this unhealthy condition. The room was hot. I was sweating but he was sweating so much harder. I was thirsty. All I wanted was a drink of water but my legs refused to carry me to the kitchen to quench my thirst. He was sweating profusely and as gross as it may sound, I wanted to lick the sweat off his chest to get some sort of liquid into my body. I tried willing myself to stand. Twinges began to hit me like I was being stung by a million tiny lil bumblebees. I looked at the harmless dragon on the wall and began to curse him. 'what the fuck are you starring at, you fucking fire breathing voyeur ' I wondered if he enjoyed watching the intimate yet hard core scene from earlier. He just kept going and going and going! Yes I was in quite a state to be having a conversation with a picture on the wall, but so what its my life, and if sex is that good that you start talking to objects, it deserves to be recorded both orally and.....(speaking of orally...OMG) anyway, I was normal at one time. At least I was before I became a puddle of black woman on a hardwood floor. If I was Bewitched I could twinkle my nose and command the bottle of water to float to me through the air, but I wasn't quite so fortunate. If I was Oprah I could command one of my many servants, or just tell Stedman to get off his fat lazy arse and fetch me a glass of h20. But no, I have to be a strong black woman engaging in the most intensifying sexual experience of my life with a superb lover who gets 5 stars every day of the week. Only he's a puddle of black man lying on the bed, and my ass is thirsty. I cant even open my mouth to say, 'please, will you get me a drink?' I just breathe.....Heavy. Like a fat kid who ate too much cake. I think to myself, maybe it was the 'bucket of boat trash' I ate a bubba gumps that has me feeling sorta like a parapalegic. Maybe its those 30 blocks we walked in Manhattan earlier that night. Maybe I just need to get my fat ass on a tred mill and work out so I won't be so knocked the fuck out during moments of intense sexual pleasure In any case, I'm a puddle, even today, as I have willed my legs to work, but feel somewhat like a cross between Elmer Fudd, a black non-anorexic Paris Hilton and Michelle from Destiney's child. That bitch falls down more than the law allows.
My evening was fan fucking tastic in spite of my unstable condition.........and how was yours?
(to my homie at the 5-2-6 bigg ups my nicca, you handled like a chief who' knows how to how to use the peace pipe)
My evening was fan fucking tastic in spite of my unstable condition.........and how was yours?
(to my homie at the 5-2-6 bigg ups my nicca, you handled like a chief who' knows how to how to use the peace pipe)
Monday, July 11, 2005
Confusion in the Shadows. (an interpretation)
I saw it. He saw it too. In my mind as I began to slowly drift off to sleep I remembered saying to myself. Looks like a rat on the wall. Then he asks me. What's causing that shadow? It wasn't fear. I knew this. It was just an insatiable desire to know what caused the shadow on the wall. I offer what I think might be an intelligent answer, then he moves to the other side of the room and begins moving things around to find the cause of the distortion on the wall. In the back of my brain, something says, this formation of a rat represents what you had just experienced earlier. I am afraid of rats. Most who know me, know this is my one true fear. I hate them, detest them. Will walk away from my home if I ever see one. Have done so in the past when the struggle didn't include strong pesticides to keep the rodents away, as I lived next to an alley that was filled with them. Thank you God for change.
Anyway, I watched Mr. Rat. He didn't move. He was dead, but in my mind he was snickering at us. Snickering at the earlier exchange where one of us was trapped and the other saught to pull the other to safety. Doesn't matter who was drowning. If he drowns, I drown. We are one. I drown in my dreams if they attempt to confuse me to the point where I can not function or get a good nights sleep. (This entry is not for entertainment purposes....deep shit happened, I need to express it, so bear with me) I kept hearing his words, yet something was attempting to pull me deeper into sleep. This in itself was unusual as I am usually the one left starring at the wall, while he drifts off into nothingness. I drifted. He fought. Battled some demonic forces that brought a powerful spirit with them. Confusion. I heard the battle, and wanted to help fight, yet there was something, something trying to keep my attention from what he was going through. God needed me to be strong and something was holding me. Until he said, "SIT UP NOW!" Whatever it was that was slowly driving me into unconsciousness had to release its hold and I could sit up and engage in spiritual warfare. It was real spiritual warfare. I believe in the power of God. I make this no secret. I don't bite my tongue and I don't fret as most believers do when it comes to spirituality and knowing who God is. I know Him. He knows me. So I sat up, and I could almost feel the ground trying to collapse under me. Then he said, "come on. I have to do this." I knew exactly what he was doing. Getting that spirit our of our home. I walked, I prayed. I felt the ground trying to shft under my feet, but God said,"keep praying." This force will not win. You are stronger than any element that attempts to destroy you because I am in you. We prayed through the night.
I awoke this morning, exhausted. He knew I was tired. He let me rest. He kissed me and I slept in peace. Then after he had left, I saw a door opening and confusion ran through it. He ran and had 'gazillions' of Hungry New York Rats following after Him. I was no longer afraid. He was in the form of a woman who preferred Beef to Pork, but felt she needed to prove a point (by counting points) She had long hair and a cunning smile. She had a level of openess that I found intriguing and somewhat disturbing, yet I didn't initially know what to make of it. Now I know why he stays 'away from shadows', (not a blunder) away from the glamor and glitz of too many interpersonal relationships. You open yourself to Confusion, and if he stays too long, he will bring some of his partners, (anger, discord, control, uncleanliness, whoredom......and before you know it, your home will be in dissaray, and your soul will be in utter turmoil. I must go clean now. Confusion is gone, and order must be restored to our home.
Father, I thank you for allowing me to write about this experience!
Anyway, I watched Mr. Rat. He didn't move. He was dead, but in my mind he was snickering at us. Snickering at the earlier exchange where one of us was trapped and the other saught to pull the other to safety. Doesn't matter who was drowning. If he drowns, I drown. We are one. I drown in my dreams if they attempt to confuse me to the point where I can not function or get a good nights sleep. (This entry is not for entertainment purposes....deep shit happened, I need to express it, so bear with me) I kept hearing his words, yet something was attempting to pull me deeper into sleep. This in itself was unusual as I am usually the one left starring at the wall, while he drifts off into nothingness. I drifted. He fought. Battled some demonic forces that brought a powerful spirit with them. Confusion. I heard the battle, and wanted to help fight, yet there was something, something trying to keep my attention from what he was going through. God needed me to be strong and something was holding me. Until he said, "SIT UP NOW!" Whatever it was that was slowly driving me into unconsciousness had to release its hold and I could sit up and engage in spiritual warfare. It was real spiritual warfare. I believe in the power of God. I make this no secret. I don't bite my tongue and I don't fret as most believers do when it comes to spirituality and knowing who God is. I know Him. He knows me. So I sat up, and I could almost feel the ground trying to collapse under me. Then he said, "come on. I have to do this." I knew exactly what he was doing. Getting that spirit our of our home. I walked, I prayed. I felt the ground trying to shft under my feet, but God said,"keep praying." This force will not win. You are stronger than any element that attempts to destroy you because I am in you. We prayed through the night.
I awoke this morning, exhausted. He knew I was tired. He let me rest. He kissed me and I slept in peace. Then after he had left, I saw a door opening and confusion ran through it. He ran and had 'gazillions' of Hungry New York Rats following after Him. I was no longer afraid. He was in the form of a woman who preferred Beef to Pork, but felt she needed to prove a point (by counting points) She had long hair and a cunning smile. She had a level of openess that I found intriguing and somewhat disturbing, yet I didn't initially know what to make of it. Now I know why he stays 'away from shadows', (not a blunder) away from the glamor and glitz of too many interpersonal relationships. You open yourself to Confusion, and if he stays too long, he will bring some of his partners, (anger, discord, control, uncleanliness, whoredom......and before you know it, your home will be in dissaray, and your soul will be in utter turmoil. I must go clean now. Confusion is gone, and order must be restored to our home.
Father, I thank you for allowing me to write about this experience!
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Have You Seen Any Bullshit Lately?
One of the many things that fascinates me about writing is how two people can take one topic, and wrtie about it in totally different ways. Each of us as writers have our own style of delivering a story, or a poem. Literature is beautiful in that it allows each of our perceptions to take on what we percieve the artist is trying to say. I recently read some poetry, that in my opinion was horrible. I went to a book store, purchased a book from a writer that I'd never heard of. On the cover of the book the author appeared to be connected to some sort of machine with tues and wires and looked as if he were in a coma. That should have been a tell-tale sign right there. However I was al\ways taught never to judge a book by its cover, so I bought the book.
I came home excited, thinking I'm about to read some real deep poetry about this dude who may have had a near death experience, but no no no. Not even close. He began to speak in crazy ass codes that not even I, the code queen, could decipher. Beginning versus of each poem with out of place punctuation, sideways grammer, and writing from somewhere so deep inside himself that it confused even me. I AM NOT EASILY CONFUSED! (cept of course Monday -Sunday) Anyway I was disappointed because after reading a few poems it was obvious to me that this dude was simply saying shit. And calling it poetry. I wanted to yell at the book and say SHUT THE FUCK UP! But that would have done no good since I was reading printed material that in my opinion should have stayed in his personal journal. The most disappointing factor in this book occurred at the end, which should I have read in the book store, I'm pretty sure the book would have stayed in its dusty home on the bottom of the bookshelf. The author says this about himself...
" Not much is known about_(leaving out his name just in case his two fans might happen to read this blog)_______He was born in Harlem and lived for a while in Atlanta and other places and stuff. Now in Brooklyn, he works as a bag boy at the Pathmarks or something.'
Is this the author's way of saying, 'anybody can get published, all you gotta do is throw some words together and get self published' I was disappointed not so much in wasting $15.00, but I was upset that the quality of who we are as writiers can be often reduced to pieces of crap such as this book. I'm not a judgemental person by nature, however when it comes to my writing and that of my fellow artists, I do beleive that we have a responsibility to produce work that says something positive about our craft. I realize that poetry is an often wide venue, and what one interprets as crap, another might view as a fine piece of poetry. However reading this book has taught me a valuable lesson. I never want one of my readers to pick up anything I've written and feel as I feel about this book. I have to work harder, strive for more excellence in my own personal writing style, and be committed to accept both praise and critcism as I become more well known in the literary field.
I'm striving to be a good writer. I work hard everyday to make my words mean something, I also know there are tons of good writers out there that have more tenacity and the ability to appeal to a broader audience which will clasify them as being 'among the best'. As much as I want to be published by a reputable publishing house, I realize its gonna take more work, and maybe even a few dissapointments along the way. When I read poetry by Nikki Giovanni, Jill Scott, Langston Hughes, Chromemic, Bonita Jacobs, GG, Korema, & Locumdwn just to name a few, I know that I can't just throw words on a page and call it poetry. These people give me the encouragement through their writing to be strive for excellence in my own.
I was angry at the author of that poetry book. I'm sure most people would say, I'm being way too deep about the whole thing. I can hear my daughter saying...."well Ma, just don't read it'. or I can hear a few of my friends laughing at the book and making a mockery of some of the poems. I'm not gonna do that, because I do respect the fact that he believed in himself and took the necessary efforts to get his book published. Something has to be said for that, however the content of his pieces were weak, confusing, nausiating and actually had me wretching a time or two. I know this is my interpretation. By no means am I an expert.
I pray he gets stronger in his writing. I must digress from this and get back to the task at hand. Becomming a Great Writer. How long will it take me? Will people enjoy my work? Will anyone ever feel about my writing the way I felt about this book? Am I wrong for expressing such a strong opion about someone's 'art'? Should I just read it again and maybe try for a different interpretation?
Well in any case I've been really watching my carbs lately, so I may be suffering some sort of mental block...(lol) let me work on not producing bullshit through my written words. Or even my spoken ones for that matter. Don't yall think there's enough bullshit already out here in the world without writers adding to the pile?
I guess what I'm trying to say is self-expression is a beautiful thing, and we all have the right to say and write what we feel. However as artists, there's a line that must be drawn when it comes to producing words and calling it Poetry. I refuse to be one of those bullshit writers who honestly beleives 'ANYTHING GOES'
I came home excited, thinking I'm about to read some real deep poetry about this dude who may have had a near death experience, but no no no. Not even close. He began to speak in crazy ass codes that not even I, the code queen, could decipher. Beginning versus of each poem with out of place punctuation, sideways grammer, and writing from somewhere so deep inside himself that it confused even me. I AM NOT EASILY CONFUSED! (cept of course Monday -Sunday) Anyway I was disappointed because after reading a few poems it was obvious to me that this dude was simply saying shit. And calling it poetry. I wanted to yell at the book and say SHUT THE FUCK UP! But that would have done no good since I was reading printed material that in my opinion should have stayed in his personal journal. The most disappointing factor in this book occurred at the end, which should I have read in the book store, I'm pretty sure the book would have stayed in its dusty home on the bottom of the bookshelf. The author says this about himself...
" Not much is known about_(leaving out his name just in case his two fans might happen to read this blog)_______He was born in Harlem and lived for a while in Atlanta and other places and stuff. Now in Brooklyn, he works as a bag boy at the Pathmarks or something.'
Is this the author's way of saying, 'anybody can get published, all you gotta do is throw some words together and get self published' I was disappointed not so much in wasting $15.00, but I was upset that the quality of who we are as writiers can be often reduced to pieces of crap such as this book. I'm not a judgemental person by nature, however when it comes to my writing and that of my fellow artists, I do beleive that we have a responsibility to produce work that says something positive about our craft. I realize that poetry is an often wide venue, and what one interprets as crap, another might view as a fine piece of poetry. However reading this book has taught me a valuable lesson. I never want one of my readers to pick up anything I've written and feel as I feel about this book. I have to work harder, strive for more excellence in my own personal writing style, and be committed to accept both praise and critcism as I become more well known in the literary field.
I'm striving to be a good writer. I work hard everyday to make my words mean something, I also know there are tons of good writers out there that have more tenacity and the ability to appeal to a broader audience which will clasify them as being 'among the best'. As much as I want to be published by a reputable publishing house, I realize its gonna take more work, and maybe even a few dissapointments along the way. When I read poetry by Nikki Giovanni, Jill Scott, Langston Hughes, Chromemic, Bonita Jacobs, GG, Korema, & Locumdwn just to name a few, I know that I can't just throw words on a page and call it poetry. These people give me the encouragement through their writing to be strive for excellence in my own.
I was angry at the author of that poetry book. I'm sure most people would say, I'm being way too deep about the whole thing. I can hear my daughter saying...."well Ma, just don't read it'. or I can hear a few of my friends laughing at the book and making a mockery of some of the poems. I'm not gonna do that, because I do respect the fact that he believed in himself and took the necessary efforts to get his book published. Something has to be said for that, however the content of his pieces were weak, confusing, nausiating and actually had me wretching a time or two. I know this is my interpretation. By no means am I an expert.
I pray he gets stronger in his writing. I must digress from this and get back to the task at hand. Becomming a Great Writer. How long will it take me? Will people enjoy my work? Will anyone ever feel about my writing the way I felt about this book? Am I wrong for expressing such a strong opion about someone's 'art'? Should I just read it again and maybe try for a different interpretation?
Well in any case I've been really watching my carbs lately, so I may be suffering some sort of mental block...(lol) let me work on not producing bullshit through my written words. Or even my spoken ones for that matter. Don't yall think there's enough bullshit already out here in the world without writers adding to the pile?
I guess what I'm trying to say is self-expression is a beautiful thing, and we all have the right to say and write what we feel. However as artists, there's a line that must be drawn when it comes to producing words and calling it Poetry. I refuse to be one of those bullshit writers who honestly beleives 'ANYTHING GOES'
Friday, July 08, 2005
Self Exposure
Have you ever had a day when you found yourself completely exposed? Almost liie a fish out of water. Uncomfortable, alone, sad, full of self promoted anguish, flopping around desperately wanting to be back in the water where its dark and dreary? If you answered yes, then you are one of the millions of people who have decided to implement 'trust' in another individual. This is a hard place to be in, especially if you've grown comforable hiding in lonely shadows where no life resides simply because you don't choose to worry about people fucking wit your head. I, the country bunkin, who's generally leary of all those venturing into my life with a happy song and a microphone, found myself in a position of 'Exposure.' It's was the most exasperating, yet heartwarming experience in my life. My back was against the wall, and suddenly I realized although I had a choice in whether or not to relinqush my generally cool and suave country demeaner, it would be in my best interest to EXPOSE MYSELF to the elements. Wow, now I'm already feeling the growth...(private joke) I got angry, I cried, I screamed inside myself, at one point it even felt like I was dying. I was COMPLETELY EXPOSED! I even was about to walk away because getting to that point of trust often makes one want to just throw in the towel, simply because your mind is telling you. 'somewhere down the road, trusting this person is going to come back and bite me in the ass. Or in my case, both my asses (pj)
Trust is so hard for me, yet I've found myself walking into a place of complete trust. Am I crazy? Have I lost my ever loving country cornbread mind? Should I be committed? (Committed to the process....lol) Or should I just thank heaven that somehow I realized today that I am human, and it's ok for me to become 'exposed.'? Bonita once told me, Secrets give her head aches. I'm feeling her now, although I didn't understand what the hell she was talking about at the time. I want to be known for who and what I am, not who I'm perceived to be by those who really don't know me. I like not hiding anymore, its a cool place to be in. You should try it with someone you really love. Like I did!
Trust is so hard for me, yet I've found myself walking into a place of complete trust. Am I crazy? Have I lost my ever loving country cornbread mind? Should I be committed? (Committed to the process....lol) Or should I just thank heaven that somehow I realized today that I am human, and it's ok for me to become 'exposed.'? Bonita once told me, Secrets give her head aches. I'm feeling her now, although I didn't understand what the hell she was talking about at the time. I want to be known for who and what I am, not who I'm perceived to be by those who really don't know me. I like not hiding anymore, its a cool place to be in. You should try it with someone you really love. Like I did!
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Flesh Tingle
Today, my flesh is tingling. Not because I'm overly turned on by any particular thing, but I'm one of those folks that when I feel rushed or nervous, or whatever, my body just automatically responds. I've been watching the clock all day, and its as if its playing tricks on my mind. Maybe I need a pill. No, I need to pray. Yeah that's it.
So, this tingling feels sort of like my bones want to actually leap out of my body and do what the rest of me seems too slow in doing. I have to be somewhere in a matter of hours, and I'm no where near ready. Well actually I'm just stressing unnecessarily. So, I'm off this box, gonna go try and stop my flesh from tingling so I won't feel the need to smack myself in the airport. That aughta be a great sight for airport security.
security supervisor speaking into two-way Radio
'Um Charlie we have a large black woman with crazy hair standing in the corner apparently striking herself. Go ahead and call the police cause this one aint getting on the plane......
yeah, Icy betta pull it together and fast!......lol (oops, is that not allowed anymore?)
This post was strickly for your enjoyment......I'm cool as a cucumber
So, this tingling feels sort of like my bones want to actually leap out of my body and do what the rest of me seems too slow in doing. I have to be somewhere in a matter of hours, and I'm no where near ready. Well actually I'm just stressing unnecessarily. So, I'm off this box, gonna go try and stop my flesh from tingling so I won't feel the need to smack myself in the airport. That aughta be a great sight for airport security.
security supervisor speaking into two-way Radio
'Um Charlie we have a large black woman with crazy hair standing in the corner apparently striking herself. Go ahead and call the police cause this one aint getting on the plane......
yeah, Icy betta pull it together and fast!......lol (oops, is that not allowed anymore?)
This post was strickly for your enjoyment......I'm cool as a cucumber
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Harsh Realities
Have you ever wake up and just looked at yourself , realizing something major has to happen in your life before you can go forward? These past few days have been eye openers for me in every sense of the word. This morning I was asleep and had a dream of a life that I never thought could be mine. When I woke up, I smiled, looked around seen my surroundings, and sighed heavily. I silently said to God...'when' He said, when you decide you are ready to make it happen. I know having a better more productive life takes work, and sometimes I stress because I've worked hard all my life. Now He's telling me there's no rest in sight. (smile) I will trudge on and become stronger in the process.
A dear friend of mine lost her son's father, and I was surprised at how much his death affected me, especially since I didn't even know him. She, however, is a woman I have come to love and respect a great deal. She makes me laugh, cry, and generally on most days she manages to piss me off with her antics. Nonetheless, I hate to see her hurting and feel so helpless. I prayed. I prayed some more. Not only for her, but for all of those people in my life who have recently had to deal with harsh realities. I know there is something to be said for going through and conquering adversitites, but I hope everyone realizes that a life without true purpose is not much of a life at all. As is a life without God.
A dear friend of mine lost her son's father, and I was surprised at how much his death affected me, especially since I didn't even know him. She, however, is a woman I have come to love and respect a great deal. She makes me laugh, cry, and generally on most days she manages to piss me off with her antics. Nonetheless, I hate to see her hurting and feel so helpless. I prayed. I prayed some more. Not only for her, but for all of those people in my life who have recently had to deal with harsh realities. I know there is something to be said for going through and conquering adversitites, but I hope everyone realizes that a life without true purpose is not much of a life at all. As is a life without God.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Chillin' with ML
...I don't even know how to begin to describe my day. It was wonderful to say the least. The weather was great. Spent the entire afternoon with my boyfriends mother, and I must say, she is one of the most delightful women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I was a little nervous at first, but that quickly faded as the conversation progressed. She's so proper, yet so down to earth all at the same time. We had a wonderful lunch, good conversation, and shared lots of laughs. For me the highlight of the day was when I ask her what the family curse word was and she looked at me innocently and blurted out....SHIT! You have to know this woman to understand both the humor and shock in me hearing her say this small piece of profanity. I've never heard her cuss before, so when she said it, my mind started twirling like I was high or something. I felt as if I were dining with royalty one minute, and the next minute I was laughing so hard I thought I'd lose my lunch.
We went to see a movie, (Herbie) and I found myself cringing at the screen on more than one occasion since my boyfriend actually despises Lindsey Lohann, for reasons that would require a whole nother post. Yet I enjoyed my time with her as it was like being with a female version of him, which is both heartwarming and kinda weird all at the same time. I hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
We went to see a movie, (Herbie) and I found myself cringing at the screen on more than one occasion since my boyfriend actually despises Lindsey Lohann, for reasons that would require a whole nother post. Yet I enjoyed my time with her as it was like being with a female version of him, which is both heartwarming and kinda weird all at the same time. I hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Professional Chatters
...so I'm working, minding my business, hearing the ding dong of posts going to various yahoo groups. Thus far being successful at igging them all, when I suddenly get an (I.M) from someone I haven't chatted with in ages. He feels its necessary to issue out New Chat Codes, as if there are those of us who don't already have enough on our plates trying to ignore the mundane crap that often gets sent throughout cyberspace. So being the smart ass that I naturally am, I stop writing my story, which is getting to a crucial point. Read the (im ) and am instantly pissed off. So here is his announcement to all of internet land letting us all know that the internet codes for professional chatters have changed.....WHO ACTUALLY GIVES A FLYING FUCK ABOUT ANY OF THIS SHIT...??? (DO YOU?) Cause I sure as hell don't. So I read it, get pissed, and have to issue him a response with the request for him to send it to everyone on the same list, and guess what, he does it. So I'm sure by Monday, I'll have some nice nasty I'm's from those professional chatters who have to defend the New Chat Codes Freedom of Chat act.....bored fuckers.....
(IMPORTANT MESSAGE TO CHATTERS EVERYWHERE)
The new language for the "ghettofied" ~B2B=Bout to bounce (no more g2g, who says that?) ~2DF=Too damn funny (no more lmao, NOBODY says that on a reg. basis) ~HU=Hold up (no more brb, it just looks ugly) ~SSA=SEX/STATE/AGE (Asl was getting kind of old My grandfather knew what it meant!) ~ICU= I'm cracking up! (No more lol, that word was annoying aZ hell) WP?/WG?/WRG?/WU?=What's poppin?/What's good?/What's really good?/sup PLz PASS this on to all on yo list
Icy'S RESPONSE : whoever created the original codes can't be half as lame as the indviduals who created the revised ones....If you chat with that many people to where you can't complete a sentence and have to use all these stupid ass codes, because of some self imposed time restriction....get off the computer and do something else....(Please send this public service announcement to everyone on your list and tell them Icy says, get a fucking life)
Of course now I've lost motivation for writing, so I'm going to bed....dreaming of strangling these people who sit and think of this type of stupidity to clog people's Im' boxes and emails.
(IMPORTANT MESSAGE TO CHATTERS EVERYWHERE)
The new language for the "ghettofied" ~B2B=Bout to bounce (no more g2g, who says that?) ~2DF=Too damn funny (no more lmao, NOBODY says that on a reg. basis) ~HU=Hold up (no more brb, it just looks ugly) ~SSA=SEX/STATE/AGE (Asl was getting kind of old My grandfather knew what it meant!) ~ICU= I'm cracking up! (No more lol, that word was annoying aZ hell) WP?/WG?/WRG?/WU?=What's poppin?/What's good?/What's really good?/sup PLz PASS this on to all on yo list
Icy'S RESPONSE : whoever created the original codes can't be half as lame as the indviduals who created the revised ones....If you chat with that many people to where you can't complete a sentence and have to use all these stupid ass codes, because of some self imposed time restriction....get off the computer and do something else....(Please send this public service announcement to everyone on your list and tell them Icy says, get a fucking life)
Of course now I've lost motivation for writing, so I'm going to bed....dreaming of strangling these people who sit and think of this type of stupidity to clog people's Im' boxes and emails.
Friday, July 01, 2005
The Incredibles
This has to be one of the best animated movies I've ever seen. Not so much because of the heroics of the Supers, (although Dash running on the water was the coolest shit I've seen in a while) but because of one line in the movie. The part where Edna tells Elastagirl once she finds out Mr. Incredible has accepted another assigment and gone back to the old life..."You have tell him who he is, and remind him who you are." The first time I heard that line, my boyfriend and I were watching it, and he pointed out how powerful it was, but for some reason, it didn't click to me at that moment. Maybe I was too busy simply trying to figure out why they made Elastagirl have such a huge ass, but now it's another part I love. I had to allow the movie to be absorbed into my spirit. Now that I've watched it some 38 times, (yes I have a life) I see the defining principles of what the movie was really about. Family unity, believing in yourself, and overcoming a society who thinks they can determine what your level of normalcy should be, but most of all, just being who you are.
Mr. Incredible had a zeal and a zest to do what he was destined to do. Circumstances often warranted he do something different, but his desire to save mankind was embedded in him, so when an opportunity came, he had no choice but to forsake his mundane esistance and be who he was designed to be. Same here. I have to be who I was designed to be. No more sitting on my super powers simply because everyone around me is so morbidly plain and ordinary. I'm strange in many ways, but as my brother used to tell me, 'strange is an asset in a strange land.'
So as I prepare to go to my strange land (NY) I have to keep in mind that regardless of what this little town has tried to do to me. I am still 'Elastagirl' even years later with a big booty, an adorable smile, and a sense of humor most folks just don't get.
I will remind them all who I am!
Mr. Incredible had a zeal and a zest to do what he was destined to do. Circumstances often warranted he do something different, but his desire to save mankind was embedded in him, so when an opportunity came, he had no choice but to forsake his mundane esistance and be who he was designed to be. Same here. I have to be who I was designed to be. No more sitting on my super powers simply because everyone around me is so morbidly plain and ordinary. I'm strange in many ways, but as my brother used to tell me, 'strange is an asset in a strange land.'
So as I prepare to go to my strange land (NY) I have to keep in mind that regardless of what this little town has tried to do to me. I am still 'Elastagirl' even years later with a big booty, an adorable smile, and a sense of humor most folks just don't get.
I will remind them all who I am!
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