Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Aint No Sunshine

I HATE being without her!!!

I got in a car accident Monday...........

Yes… I’m alright

However; my car…..

Let’s just say- critical condition

All I can say is that I feel so annoyed with everything. The guy at the body shop keeps asking me if I want to come visit my car while it’s getting repair- FOR WHAT?!?! And when exactly do you think I would find the time to do that? Cause clearly I have nothing to do with my time- RIGHT. AND STOP CALLING ME! Clearly- you are not my favorite person right now because of what you represent which is my broken car :tear:. If you really care about me seeing the improvement process, take a picture-k?

But on the flip side my claims adjuster has YET to call me back- how poetic.

I am up to my ears in academic ridiculousness from diagnostic reports, research presentations, soap notes (therapy notes), over due assignments that are FUCKING STUPID (how do you feel about your client's deficit; how do you think intervention will affect your life? WHY AM I WRITING THIS?!- DON’T YOU GIVE ME ENOUGH TO DO?!). Of course- all of these things are due at my academic institute-45 min ACROSS TOWN… Maybe I should invest in roller skates.

Some of you might be wondering why I don't rent a car- well guess who doesn't have renter's reimbursement on her policy?!?!?!?!

And although it's not my fault- I really have no desire to fight with that guy's insurance company about getting reimbursed... I'm currently using my old car (a standard-how do i do this again?...) that is still in decent shape- but I could easily run it into the ground driving as much as I do, and my father uses it regularly so I don't want to do that. But we do what we gotta do- and I'll have to be extra careful since I'm not on my dad's policy and it's his insurance covering my old car.

Can you tell I’m stressed?

And I’m sad too.

I just hate having to rely on others around me. I have to wait for the adjustor; I have to wait for the insurance of the person responsible, I have to wait for the other claims adjustor so that I can find out about getting a rental (which I probably won’t get because I don’t want to deal with the hassle of getting reimbursed by such a obscure insurance- Na.tionw.ide’s Vic.tori.a Insurance).

And then I get on to blog- my only sense of escape at this point; and it is currently UNAVAILABLE… nice- just what a girl needs.

All I want is my car back- so that I can get back to my overwhelming life



Positivity and optimism had always been my discipline; a learned art from a skilled teacher. I glided through quick sand (e)motions as if composed by duel H elements engorged by a solitary O. Sadness had no power here; until I was knocked, rocked, and deemed unlocked. It came as a drop, the drizzle condensing into one lone soldier who traveled as a scout to show others how to flow…. I wanted it to stop, but had no control because I.never.cried. So what do I do with this neological experience- Positivity and optimism had no place in this house of blues. So I just cried, until morning came; and light gave way the gift of yet another God gifted day

Thank you Lord for today~ I promise not to waste it like I did yesterday, and I pray you decide to help me find the way to make today my very best day… Amen

Sunday, February 24, 2008

I am not my hair

I want an explanation.

In my short life, I have changed my hair a million times. Never chemically; only just in the ways of appearance. I don't have the A) discipline to maintain a chemical adjustment & B) the desire to change myself fundamentally to be something I wasn't already born as (physically). Truly- I have been the same since I crossed over the threshold of my mother's sacred place- No piercings (not even my ears), no tattoos, and no relaxer.

There was a time when smooth, silk, manageable hair was all I desired (when I first began doing my hair at 10, spending hours to smooth it I could never bring myself to beg my father because he never tolerated that kind of behavior and I knew that I would probably get in trouble if I began. 'You ask- I say no- you move on' was more the philosophy that he raised his children to accept. But from time to time, in middle and high school; I would've given my right foot just to have a fresh perm... But no such thing for me. Hell- the first time I wore makeup was to my senior prom. All that superficial stuff was just not on my father's 'what to teach your daughter throughout her life' handbook that he had to create or borrowed when my mom passed. Instead- I was pushed to decorate my mind... with books and knowledge and exercise.

Thus, I lack things like the desire to have that purse, or that P.rada shoe (although, I do like a nice shoe- I just won't spend P.rada money for it).

I will say- I am obsessed with change when it comes to my appearance. It has nothing to do with anything- it's not to follow the trend, or to look better, or anything of the sort. I just like to be different- within a week's time span. The inspiration for this blog actually came when hanging out with a friend and going through old photos and realizing that I have a different hair style in absolutely every event. To me- I treat hair just like any other accessory.. and change it just a frequently. Interesting- men react differently to each hair style I have.

Afro- attracts that earthy brotha who is all about naturalness and authenticity, or has that rasta mental; also attracts that caribbean man who misses what home had to offer. Lastly (and oddly), older white men ADORE the fro. It really fascinates me- there is just this look that they have on their face(s) I can't put my finger on to explain...

Long flow- the every day brotha. Basically, these are the black men that I come across on a daily basis. They know for a fact that this hair does not grow out of my head, but could not care less. There is just something about long hair that makes the every day brotha stare and trip...

Braids- thug life. It never fails. Whenever I get braids, I find myself in a world filled with thugged out brothas that wanna get to know me. What the hell is it? Do I look hood with braids? I don't understand

Short curl (my personal fav)- mr.poetic. There is something about curly hair that makes a man break out in rhyme. After a few days, my curl status changes- thus capri sun (scroll down to the pics) but even that is appreciated. I like poetic brothas tho- cause at the end of the day- they could not care less about hair

But I still don't completely understand it. And I say completely because there are certain styles that men have that I appreciate- like dreads, and the bald But honestly, your hairstyle isn't what's gonna attract me to you. But I think for men it's different because as I said, with every hairstyle, there is a different man to go with it...

I'm so confused... Oh well- I'll let the sounds of Ind.ia soothe me

Saturday, February 23, 2008

From my mind...

This is what happens when I am home on a Friday night with Jill Scott and others singing bout... well... ya From the mind of a virgin...

Disclaimer: The following contains adult content and is graphic in nature...


He said it so soft and so right that I felt myself shiver.

"What do you want from me?" It came out as a plea rather than a real question. I was lost, trying to figure out what it was he wanted me to be or do or say. I pulled the sweatshirt over my naked frame and sat on the corner of the bed. He came to sit next to me. He took my legs and brought them to rest on top of his lap, focusing his eyes on them as he spoke.

"I don't know how long I have wanted this. You next to me, an image that I have carried with me, keeping me smiling on my loneliest nights. I mean, damn girl, you've been by my side from jump and loved me before I was shit. You're the only one I trusted with my everything and you never did me dirty. Never once, even when I probably deserved it. And in D.C. when they asked me where I wanted my next assignment to be, I said here. Because of you. I missed you so damn much. I wanted to be around you again, seein your face when I told you something funny. Catchin all those mental photos of you that I have never been able to catch. Eyes closed, head back, moanin at the touch of my lips on your neck…"

His eyes raked over my face, stopping at my lips and then following the trip of his finger that gently traveled down one side of my neck, lingering at the notch where my ribs met, and then traveled its way up the other side, finally resting into my hair line. He gripped a mass of my hair and forced my eyes to meet his. Everything he couldn't say was written in detail in those warm pools of mahogany brown. His other hand, which had been resting on my legs, kneaded its way up my shin, caressing my thigh, finally resting on my ass. He gripped me trying to shift my body to sit atop of him.

"Stop…." A whisper.

"Do you really want me to?" A distorted mumble because his mouth was occupied on my neck.

"Ummmm…." A moan

"Was that yes or no?" Another mumble

"Fuck…." An exhaled breath

"I can." A promise

His hand went from my ass, to the top of my thigh pushing my legs apart. He took one finger and gently traced my inner thigh, causing quivers to shoot up and down my spine. I opened my legs wider, inviting his hand to travel higher. I could feel the smile on his lips against my neck as he caused my body to react to him. He began strokin my clit, slow and hard, teasing the surrounding flesh. The sound coming from me expressed the deep satisfaction I felt at his touch. His movements were rhythmic, like waves crashing against the shore, causing my heart to follow his beat. Faster and faster his hand moved as wider and wider my legs became. My breath labored and strained, were mingled with "Fuck" filled moans. I could feel the moisture come and as I came, he took a taste of me. Watching him lick my essence off of his fingers made me reach for him, but he pushed my hand away.

"I'm not done eating."

With that, he lifted me off of the bed and placed me down on the area rug sitting atop his hardwood floors. He pushed the sweatshirt up just above my navel, exposing the object of his desire. My pussy can feel the intensity of his gaze and he licked his lips in anticipation. He then brought his eye to meet mine as his hand revisited my clit. He wanted to watch me come. I tried to maintain eye contact, but the sensations climbing from between my legs gripped me and I had to close my eyes against it. And then, his lips. He kissed and sucked on my inner thigh savoring the interaction of his lips and tongue on my skin. My back arched and I grasp the rug beneath me. He moved inch by inch leaving a trail of wetness along my leg as he came closer and closer to my pussy. I bit my lip so as not to let the scream escape me. Finally his lips met mine. He continued to kiss and suck and kiss and suck, sexin me with his mouth. He drank my juice and continued to fingerfuck me deep and hard. The orgasm started from there, my core, and reverberated out from cell to cell. It hit me like ice water on a hot summer day; muscles tense, skin stinging, mouth wide open, words gone from my mind. I couldn't breath in and I didn't really know why. It had never happened quite like that for me before and as my body began to relax and I was able to take in air, I felt him watching me. I opened my eyes and he was engorging himself on the view of me post climax, immersing himself with my image in that state. He moved from between my legs to being next to me, laying on his side, hand supporting his head, a 3rd grade expression on his face.

"What?" I wasn't sure if I could handle the response

"I made you cum." Jackass- I wasn't mad that he said it, but he sang it like little kids did when they were gonna tell and all I could wonder was Shit, is he gonna tell?

Thursday, February 21, 2008

24 hours

So Tub asked a question on his post at his chillin in the tub blog and I didn't want to write an epic comment, and I figured that those of you who don't have the pleasure of reading his blog might be interested in what I have to say- Thus a post.

I was born. To be created means to eventually be destroyed; destroyed by thought, disease, time and all things worldly. I know this because I think of the womb that transported me from my previous state to my current. That womb that is no longer with me fore her last breath came a month shy of 20 years ago.

I miss her. I think of her last 24 and reflect on how she walked her day the same as she did every other; nothing special, nothing different. She knew her path, and embraced it. Her love was no stronger the day she left than the day she bore me. Her laugh was no deeper or richer than all those that I have tattooed in my mind from birth til her passing. Her hugs were not closer or longer. They were just as close and long as every other day. Her smile reached her eyes in the same stretch of wisdom beyond anything I could ever hope to understand. And it's through that day, her day- I learned what life truly was about.

It's all about this day. I learned to appreciate an hour, a conversation, deep love, incredible sunsets, mind blowing art, novel worthy love making, an exquisite meal, family, friends who could be family, road trips, side splitting laughter, and every other element that makes a day worth living. I look at yesterday and wonder if I would change a thing about it if I knew that it was my last. No- I wouldn't. Because I laughed with a friend, and loved with all my might, and kissed my daddy hello when I got home, and talked to my step mother in my native tongue about life, and had a wonderful conversation on the phone with someone about nothing, and changed a life through therapy and understanding, and lived it like I always live my days.... like they are my last...

She taught me that. Through soft words and gentle smiles and unconditional love that transcends space. She showed love without a word and expected the same and that’s all she cared about when it came to living a day. And she taught me to do the same- and so, I make sure I answer this question for all who know me each day: ‘How did I show you how much I love you today?’ by providing a small favor, and laughing with a friend, and kissing my daddy hello, and talking to my step mother in my native tongue, and loving from my thoughts thru to the things I do- as if today were my last 24, just like she taught me to….

Sunday, February 17, 2008

My perspective

I read this on 1980's and thought about what it would be like to be on the other side. This is what I came up with...

'We've grown apart.' My words kept echoing back at me. I stared. Stared at those angles and curves that completed the shape of your face. Those angles and curves that my fingers had memorized. I stared. Stared at those barren walls that knew all of the intimate moments shared here. Deep kisses that moved the floor beneath me; conversations that exposed marrow, but more recently, shouting matches that bled followed by silence so thick, you'd leave to breath again. It was in those moments that I would wonder about how much longer I could do this. Loving you and staying here was hurting me. We were no longer good for each other. And then you'd return, and we would pretend with whispered apologies and expressions of love that only went as deep as the strings of our throat. And I would stay, and you would stay, and we'd supposedly be happy.

And as summer fell, and winter grew, the bitterness froze my heart and I no longer cared. I was numb. Humming beneath my feet were the memories of how we got here and as I felt your unseeing eyes look through me, I felt the tear come. It slid from the corner of my history with you, rolled down into the jaw line of my current days, and finally, it fell. It crashed into unforgiving hardwood, shattering into pieces of mirrored yesterdays. I turned away from you then, staring at the door knob, but unsure of whether or not I was ready to walk through, into that new world… without you. I just stood….and stared, frozen by the air. Thinking about that seed you'd planted a few weeks ago........ that had taken root and now grows, despite the winter cold.

Something new for you...
Letting Go- Janelle Monae

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Part Duex- FINALLY

Well- I initially put up this post, but got yelled at so here is a more detailed recount of my bday.

In the club

Ok- so I'm near the bar, but not quite there cause there are too many damn people. My brother is at the bar waiting to order a drink in the midst of all his brand new co-worders. I keep getting phone calls after text messages after phone calls. (Note to self: NEVER plan another bday event again in life cause people get annoying with all that damn 'where are you' bullshit. WHERE DO YOU THINK I AM STUPID- I'm the one who's always on time. The question is WHERE ARE YOU?- but I digress). Time: 7:30ish, well after the 6:30 appointment time that I told everyone to be at the club. Finally, I'm sippin on drink number one (thanks to the donations of brudder). Drink of choice- Vodka Tonic with Extra lime. Just as I start to sip slowly and chat a bit with my one friend whose on time, I get a call from a group of my friends who are lost downtown. Of course, I know people who get lost going to downtown because I have friends who just don't club- me, the girl who goes dancing on a REGULAR. My friend suggests that I go outside and meet them, but they are in a car and I'm on foot. He just told me to be a hitchhiker and work it out, so I chug the vodka (not a good idea) and rush outside. I call my home girl whose driving and give her directions for how to get to where I'm standing. Finally, she swoops by and picks me up. I hop in (tipsy already- 3 for 1, last meal...ummm, noon; and I don't have enough body mass to handle it Yeah, I'mma lightweight). I'm lucid enough to get her to the parking garage and we all pile out of the car after I'm provided with my singing birthday cards...<---I danced just like that and everything.

Back in the club

My friends are extra ready to begin drinking, but I have to make introductions. My brother also introduces his new co-workers to my friends. One of them is actually try to push on my friend (who is so taken and so in love). I look at my brother and he just laughs and shakes his head. I guess his co worker is a fan of chocolate; but...ummmm... get on a diet and don't touch her you Chan.dler copy cat. I suggest that we hit the bar so that they can start on their first and I can hit up my second (cause I'm feeling like I can handle it without having to visit the toilet-head first)).

An odd encounter

As we all make our way to the back bar, I feel fingers running through my fro. I turned, ready to tell whatever guy to please refrain from touchin my luxurious naps when I see this woman with her own natural locks (much shorter) smiling like she'd just seen Santa.

I am IN LOVE with your hair. How did you get it to look like that. It is soo big and soft with such a nice shape. I just want to play in it.

Now I took in her measure to figure out if maybe she was already two sheets, but she looked real lucid and she didn't have a drink in her hand.

I just wash and lightly blow dry. Nothing too special.

She just sat there staring at my lips and my hair, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. At this point, I was done. Extra done, so I turned to walk towards the bar where my friends were still waiting to order a drink

Hey do you write?

Now in the back of my head I'm wondering how this question popped into her head. How does one come about thinking that someone is a writer. With just a slight head turn I respond

Just a little. I have a 'never gonna be finished romance novel' and I write quite a bit of poetry

Wonderful- I am an editor (handing me her business card) and I'd really be interested in what you have down on paper. Matter of fact- why don't you write down your info on the back of this card so that I can send you some more info.

Gut instinct tells me that giving her my information may lead to unsolicited pursuit and I REALLY don't know how to take this chick. Is she still looking at my lips??? This shit is unbelievable.

How bout I get in contact with you when I finally finish my novel
(She laughs)
Didn't you just say that it was never gonna be finished? Look, I'm not tryin to push up on you, but I really like your hair and your style and I think that keeping in touch might be a good personal and business situation.

I look down at the card and see that she got her credentials from my current educational institute. I think maybe this girl might be half way decent and what can I lose, ya know. So I just shrugged, wrote my email info on the card and left before any further conversation came to pass.

More this and more that

After another drink (around 8:45ish), things became slightly fuzzy for awhile- but I do remember ordering some water and chillin in the VIP section (that was just seating since it was still happy hour). And I know that I had the thought process that the blog world is gonna be pissed cause I'm probably missing something really good to recount right now, but I'm not gonna remember it well enough to write about it. Oh well... ya'll can Me and my friends were looking around, talking about our lives and the people that we saw in the club.

Guy A- COMPLETELY jealous of my home boy who was currently surrounded by me and my five girlfriends. It was almost like he had a man crush on him. He kept telling him that he wanted to by him a drink and asking him how did he get so lucky to be surrounded by so many beautiful women. My home boy is real Afrocentric and really had no desire to explain anything to the overly drunk whatever guy (we couldn't figure out what he was ethnically cause he just looked all wrong)

Guy B- Called me fabulous for most of the evening, but spoke incessantly about his girlfriend back in California. Eyes were exchanged between me and my friends every time he mentioned her because in the next breath he would be going on about how my shoes were 'fabulous' and my skin was 'fabulous' and my lips were 'fabulous' and how I looked 'fabulous' on my bday and inquired about when we could all go shopping together....

Guy C- Too short for words. Made the statement that if he stood on his wallet, he'd be tall enough for all of us. Yes everyone... he actually said that. OUT LOUD. I couldn't take it. I laughed my ass off. Watching try to figure out which girl he wanted was also entertaining because my girlfriends kept swapping out their 'undivided' attention to him and he was getting confused. At one point he was trying to deal with two of my friends fawn all over him in fake admiration of his big career as a laywer. Poor little guy. We took him for about four drinks (for them, I was stickin to water so as not to completely lose my mental)....

It's my party- and we're all alone

The club FINALLY began to thin out. It was approaching 9:30pm by this time and I was beginning to sober up. In fact, by the time the club had almost completely emptied, I was back to feelin nice and no longer on the brink. There were maybe 15 people in there including me and my five girlfriends. One of my friend's suggested getting another drink, but I told her to wait for dollar drinks which started at 10pm. While we chilled, music started playing and the lights dimmed. The dj started spinning the best of the 90s- Mary J on that real, A.aliyah talkin bout that one in a million, some SWV with the MJ background... Everything I love about my youth was pumping through my ear drums into my pleasure spot and I was so happy. I mean GENUINLY happy. It was that moment that made my birthday a wonderful experience. That and the moment that I'm about to break

Oh no she didn't...

Well, I told you how there were only about 15 people in the club since happy hour was done and no one really goes to a club before 11 (around here). Well there were these other group of girls that were dancing. One of them in particular caught the eye of me and my friends. Reason being: White half open blouse, HOT pink skin tight pants, and extra high calf reaching boots. If there was anyone that was getting down, SHE was getting down. And she stood out so much that the dj had to pay homage to the Pink inspired fit. Of course we all started laughin when we heard what was playing but poor girl didn't even miss a beat. She blew the dj a kiss and kept it movin in that oh so seductive white girl way. Some of her friends kept trying to work thier way into dancing with us, but I could tell that they liked each other WAY more than I liked any of my friends and I kept my distance...

In full swing

As the night wore on, the crowd got deeper and a few friends swapped out (some left, some joined). I started getting pressed up on and got more fro fingering. I'm getting down, showin the club that it's not only about grinding my ass up against your.... well, ya know. I find a dope azz dancing partner and we battle it out. I for worn him that I have been in the same heels for about 5 and half hours so go easy. He takes it upon himself to turn around and shake his ass on me. I started crackin up, and pretending to smack his ass. Then we did some slight battlin, but I was too tired by this time to really kill it so he accepted his victory with a cheezy smile and a suggestion of a re-do soon. For awhile, we would just sang along with the songs and watch this one particular drunk guy spill alcohol all over the dance floor (FUCKING ANNOYING) but it was cool. After awhile, I told him that I had to go find my friends and I'd see him in a bit. That never ended up happening. I found one of my friends dancing on stage (and I don't know how she convinced me) but I found myself up there soon after singing and workin it out full throttle (I'm gonna regret this tomorrow-sore). Again, tiredness kicks in after about thirty minutes and I look at my watch (1am). 7 full hours in this damn club). I'm done. I get down and tell the few friends that are left that I'm out. Some stay, some decide to go with me. As I'm walking out, more hair groping(note to self: NEVER AGAIN).


It was a great time and I am happy as hell that I didn't get so fucked up that I ruined my evening throwing up. I stayed nice throughout the entire night and overall, would say my 24th was definately an 8 on the rickter scale... I hope that 25 be MO'

Sorry no pics- but I'll post some fro'd in the near future

Monday, February 11, 2008

Better Late then Never?

So I've been recouping from Friday's birthday excursion. On top of that I've been takin care of my sore feet by forcibly doing yard work and self inflicted house chores that MUST be done. Now that I have some time, I'll break down the day.

Friday- Work to Mall

I got to work in the best mood cause I knew that my supervisor wasn't gonna be there, which is a birthday gift in itself. She is a woman that gets on my nerves cause she does things like calls me at 5:40 pm on Thurs (my day off) to inform me that she is taking a personal day on Friday when she knew this information early Wednesday (when I was at work) but didn't say a word. Who does that?

But anyway, I planned on getting out of work at 4, stopping by the mall for about 45min to shop for a nice bday outfit and then if time allowed, take a quick nap. And of course, it didn't work out that way, because I planned it like that. For whatever reason, my birthday time table is never as effective as my everyday time table. I end up leaving work around 4:45ish, which means I'm gonna hit a bit of traffic on my way home. Luckily, there is a mall right next door to my house, so I make a quick descision to switch malls and just hit the one up that's closer.

Mall to House

I get to the mall around 5, 5:15ish in my mind thinking I have about 30 min or so to shop and then I need to dash home and start getting ready. I walk around a little and finally make a decision- Since I'm going in my authentic fro (which puts Erykah B's wig to I decide to go with a more clean earthy look- deep greens accented by prestine white. I even get a flower for the hair. As I look down at my phone I realize that it's approaching 6... Oh shyt- what time did I tell these people to meet me downtown? 6:30... Fuck, that means I am suppose to be leaving my house in, ummm oh- idon'tknow- 15minutes or so. I'm gonna be late (and I HATE being late). So I get the accessories and I rush out of the mall thinking that maybe it doesn't matter cause my friends will be late...right?


I just in the shower, and I keep hearing my phone going off. I pay it no mind and I cleanse in record fashion. As I'm throwing on articles of clothing (post tag extirpation), I'm glancing at my bedroom clock hoping that it's not really say 6:07 and that I'm imagining that I only have 5 minutes before I need to leave for downtown. My phone is still going nuts and I wonder to myself 'Why are You always the coordinator for your own shyt- Now you cant even get ready in peace cause people what to know where you are, what are you doing, when are you leaving, are you there yet, and every other annoying question that means nothing'. I shake of the smart remarks that are jumping to mind and reply to all of my willing participants, informing them all that I would be there soon and that they should all start heading to the bar... I do a final glance at myself; face-flawless appearance; hair- extr-afro with that white flower touch; fit-WORD; heels-the inflictors of future torcher, but worth every moment cause they are cute. I grab my phone knowing that I would have to stop by the ATM to pull out cash (which will suck up some time) cause I would have to give in to Orlando Tolls to be there at a decent time. I glance back at my room clock- 6:24.

On the road

Thankfully, everything is near my house. I stop by the Publix that has a free ATM right outside and pull out some cash. Next, I pull out the plaza and hop onto the toll road which is RIGHT there. I blast my music and start to relax- Even though I know I'm gonna be late, I'm sure I'll still be the first. I look down at my phone and I see a message from my homeboy

Where you at? I'm here sipping on my first 3 for 1 in your honor- cause you know I don't drink. PS, I got your gift here with me.
I'll be there in about 15 minutes (traffic willing)
How you gonna miss my first drink?
Sip it slow and I won't
I don't know about you, but suckin slow is not my thing so get your ass here
LOL-Fuck you- I'll be there

Next- my brother calls me around 6:50ish; A couple of friends from school that are riding in the same care and need directions, 6:52; Couple other homeboys 6:53; My aunt (who I rarely speak to) 6:57; A close family friend 6:58; My cuzin (no blood relation) 7:02.

I officially hate my phone.

Finally, I park and I direct my brother to where I am. He gives me my gift and we finally get ourselves to the club

Happy Hour


He looks around at the surrounding mostly white population


Accompanied by a sarcastic grin.

I'd finally made it and caught up with my homeboy that was already inside the club. There were wall to wall people (predominantly white) which was not what I had expected. I had been to happy hour a few times with my brother and I don't ever remember it being quite so jam packed. There were MAAAAYBE 5 black men in the whole bunch- ALL rubbed up on some vanilla flesh that I couldn't help but shake my head at. I hear a chuckle from my homeboy and I guess my face told him the story of how I felt about this being the norm of this city. Don't get me twisted; I don't care about interracial dating; I mean CLEARLY- my brother married a wonderful light skinned Indian woman who I luuuuv....

But do ALL brothas in Orlando need to date everything but black women... But I digress... This post is getting extra long, so I'm gonna have to do like those blog veterans and give it to you in parts...Until then....

Thursday, February 7, 2008

I share a birthday with Gary Coleman- WTF?!

Scroll down to the third face and you'll get the full feel of my response when I found this bit of information out.

Soooo, I'm turning 24 in about 3 hours and 20 minutes and I am EX CI TED. Excited in that back in the day when I was young kinda way <---- love that skit.

When I was a kid, I remember having only one- that's right count it- one birthday celebration. It consisted of my step-mom making me all my favorite haitian dishes set atop a DECKED out table that was overly decorated being that I was turning eight. I mean, they had the good china, some candles, a centerpiece (that i think was plastic flowers, but still) and even champagne- did I mention that I was eight? Cause I was But la piece de resistance- THE CAKE... holy heaven. It was the best thing I had ever tasted in my short life and i thanked my step mom hard core for it (later coming into the knowledge that the cake was store bought did nothing to change my admiration- cause she chose a BOMB azz

Otherwise, my birthdays were met with mild recognition and within my teen years, every now and then my dad broke me off with a card and chill gift. But no celebration. I don't know if I feel bad about that though. Some people feel envious of their peers and having huge parties and all that, but because I am my father's daughter, I just kept thinking about how much the clean up process would suck. And I would have to be the one cause I don't know anyone (or very few) who'd volunteer to assist in the clean up process of a party. Some people will assist-against their will... and others will assist-cause they haven't left yet so might as well. But as I got older, I started wanting to have that 'all eyes on me' moment- minus the clean up.

When I turned 18, I went to Universal with friends; and it was BANAZ
19- worked
20- Birthday basketball- I had a tournament with a bunch of my friends at the local Y... another BANAZ moment
21-Birthday dinner with dad- I was honored that he did that cause my dad HATES eating out
22- Birthday dinner with friends, brudder with wife, cousin and extras that I did not invite (who I'm still wonder why they were, then a club endeavor that was...just alright
23- drunkin night with my home girl

and now 24 shall be another celebration of fun times with friends and fam (just brudder- but good enough for me) with a mixture of happy hour and bowling (I wonder if that will help my bowling score...haha). I may blog about it (whatever I remember- side comment: I am ASTOUNDING, AMAZING, FLABBERGASTED, and every other thesaurus variant of that feeling at those bloggers out there that can report their drunkin endeavors with dialogue included. This is a moment to offer you all a standing O and kudos, especially Diva for her recent addition)

Now facts about my birthday that i discovered which left me going "Really??"

1910 - The Boy Scouts of America became incorporated

1922 - President Warren Harding had the White House’s first radio installed.

1924 - Nevada became the first state to use gas as a means of execution. The state executed Gee Jon for murder.1926 - Today was the day that Walt Disney Studios was officially formed.

1936 - The first ever National Football League draft was today. The Philadelphia Eagles selected Jay Berwanger as the first pick.

1974 - The comedy “Good Times” debuted. The sitcom starred Jimmy Walker and Esther Rolle and lasted 5 seasons.

1992 - “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred (No. 1 on the charts)

And last but not least Born on my B-Day

Gary Coleman, who starred on TV’s “Different Strokes” was born in 1968... Well...


Tuesday, February 5, 2008

I'm just a bill + randomness

For those of you who are wondering how a bill becomes a law- School house rock was my show

That of course is another random video cause I'm really not gonna sit here and talk about bills becoming laws.

For whatever reason- I'm in the mood to break off a couple of poems (i know you don't like them, but avert your eyes if you can't deal)

His roots are woven into my souls comfort, where I rest my woes. With each step the pounding of his message resounds in my bones: "You are one with me, one mind, one body, one beat". His heaven gives light to days for me, with notes from the string in his throat guiding the path my sway will take. His spirit reverberates, quaking my knees shakin' my teeth, demanding that I be more powerful than he 'fore I am Queen. Creator of the tears running through the veins of every breath nurturing all from my very breast. Educator to the seeds of earth that he shall push to know their roots. Their roots... woven into my souls comfort where I rest my tomorrows.


He’s got me feelin like the moon… attracted to somethin with no understandin of how it happen; Circulatin continuously with sights of he in my minds eye hopin and prayin he’d always keep me locked in my rotation. He’s got me feelin like the sea…exploring me with his tools to discover the treasures I keep beneath the surface; Waitin in hunger for the time when he can nourish himself with my riches. He’s got me feelin like Mother Earth… reliant on his heat to cultivate fruits to feed my children; Anticipatin his release onto my surface time and time again with his wetness providing my thirst so as not to become emblazed by his fire. He’s got me feelin like open plains as he takes his time to explore God’s gifts to man, climbing high ‘til my mountains have been conquered, and delving deep into my valleys until he hears his footprints echo. He’s got be feelin like I should…He’s got me feelin damn good

Gotta do homework....

Sunday, February 3, 2008

I love being Haitian

I love this video-

As I get older, I appreciate being Haitian more and more. When I was a kid- you know, way back in the being Haitian was just not what one should be. Being teased mercilessly would be the result of such a revelation; thus I never talked about it. I probably even lied about it. Self preservation leads to absurdity-coupling being Haitian with the fact that I had big chapped lips and natural hair (that was done OH-so stylishly I might add) would have been elementary school social suicide. So I did what I had to, and I made it through. In middle school, no one really cared about what kind of black I was since I was one of few in that school anyway. So being Haitian didn't really matter. When I entered high school, I began growing into my own and being Haitian didn't really have the same connotations that it once had. In fact, I got so SICK of 'sak passe' that I started to teach people other phrases, just so that I didn't have to hear it anymore. It didn't really work- cause creole aint a language to play

I've gotten so appreciative of my Haitian roots through being at UCF when being Caribbean was normal and just being Black wasn't (or at least in the circle I ran in). Of course, even with a culturally enlightened population, I still heard things like 'You don't look Haitian', or 'You don't have an accent'. I just chalk it up to- 'Your dumb' and I would keep it moving. But I had some of my most amazing times with those people, enjoying conversations in my native tongue with people who weren't my parents; dancing Kompa and going to ball (pronounced Bah-ll, not b-all); and truly embracing my culture. And there is NOTHING like a plate filled with my favorite traditional Haitian cuisines.

Plus- you can only create a man like the one in the vid in

So- I'll take a poll, do I look Haitian...?

I should, cause I

Pic 1- me on a cruise
Pic 2- me on my 22nd bday
Pic 3- a moment in the sun drinkin it all up
Pic 4- me and my homie tryin to get our camera ready face