Shifting Priorities

On a train ride home Saturday afternoon two beautiful little black girls boarded the car, bouncing gleefully with huge smiles accompanied by two adults, one female the other male. The parents looked on as the girls giggled and whispered to one another while making faces. I couldn't help but stare and I began to wonder, "What if I had children? What would they look like? Would they be mini-me's? Would girls be better suited for me?" I suddenly began to tear up at the girls' innocence, at how truly special children are and maybe I would consider having my own in the future. As I departed the train car, a baby began howling rather loudly and my first real spark of maternal interest died a little.

On the heels of recent pregnancy announcements from two of my girlfriends and my impending 25th birthday later this year, I've realized the need to re-assess some of my life goals, desires and needs.

Point Taken

via: black-girlinthecity.com

Just Keep Going, You Got Nothing to Lose

The meaning of life you ask? Well...Let me see...

Another Again

Someone special recently told me I was an inspiration. It surprised me and I was moved by their honesty. Never before had I thought I could or perhaps should be anyone's inspiration. There are so many chinks and sloppily glued cracks in this armour that I would be embarrassed if people really knew what I sometimes thought of myself. I am the biggest work in progress there is, but I've managed to hide huge chunks of my emotions only releasing them occasionally in small bursts until I feel ready to implode. Today I was a complete emotional wreck. Matter of fact, I woke up on the wrong side of my bed Monday morning, kicking off my day -rather my week so far- with such foulness that I haven't been able to shake since. Tuesday morning decided it would not be outdone and I ended up having to talk myself through the beginnings of a panic attack which I haven't had in several months.

Politically Incorrect

cultural groups. self-identity. nationality. racism. separatism. colonialism. tribe. self-hate. regional. category. language. african-american. black. white. latin. spanish. negro. caucasian. native. other. love. respect. yourself.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...*

I want to extend a a bit more on today's earlier post because I woke up still seething and in disbelief that I'm romantically involved with this individual. I'd like to express my point of view in a academic manner in which I'm accustomed since I am a young college-educated Black woman and I couldn't leave this subject matter alone just yet.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

It's been awhile since, I've written and ironically I was discussing this very subject with my best friend. Tonight, I was on the phone with a... errr, "friend" (after this discussion I'm not so sure). Fantasia Barrino's reality show "Fantasia for Real" was on. The episode focused on the aftermath of her attempted suicide and the media fallout. I kept focusing on how overly made up she was and her make-up being ruined as she cried while recounting the events. I thought to myself, that there are times when I feel she's an attractive around the way girl but when made up dramatically, she isn't anything to write home about.

Emerging Adulthood

The popular late 1980's African-American sitcom, A Different World, is what inspired me to attend college, particularly a historical Black college or university (HBCU). The comedy depicted the lives of several students attending the fictional Hillman College while exploring social issues, glamorizing Black sororities and fraternities, and giving an overall structure of college life. When high school drew nearer to a close, I made sure college applications were sent off and my college tour rounds were completed, because my dreams of freedom, partying, new friends and most importantly placing one foot forward toward my writing career, was becoming clearer.

Been to Hell & Back...But I Found My Cloud

The view leaving Punta Cana

Dear Journal,

It's been a hectic two months and in the midst of it all, I've neglected you. I will not ask for forgiveness but I'll admit much of it was no fault of my own. I'll give you the short version. I went on a fabulous vacation to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic and threw down with a couple of spiders, visited with my father and little brother in Orlando, FL; returned from my trip and was promptly thrown off my bliss train by the abrupt departure of my boss and was given a semi-half-assed promotion (I still didn't get the memo on what exactly my new title is). Meanwhile I was ripped off by Toshiba computers and was without my laptop for over six weeks (See? Not my fault), and this past weekend alone I was involved in a catastrophic upheaval that involved me, my sister and a 911 call. Ehh. What an eventful summer I've been having.

Even though I refuse to go into each and every detail, I've learned several things, but the most important one: I cannot change everyone around me, but I can become a better me. I will forever be a work in progress. This summer many unexpected events were thrown my way, but I realize the best solution is to step back and address every situation accordingly because ultimately, I am always in control of me and I still have to wake up and live with myself.

The Bible says, "Pride goeth before destruction and an haughty spirit before a fall; Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud."

Facebook Woes + Newfound Capabilities

About a week and a half ago, I deleted my Facebook account. Its something I wanted to do for a few months but didn't really see commitment in the act and found excuses to avoid it. During my pity party session right after I encountered the man on the bus incident, I axed the account. My moment in time reason was deleting numbers from my phone wasn't cutting it and I decided to make the move. I haven't broken down and sneaked a peek into this week's latest updates from "friends" and family but I believe that I can maintain my stance. For now. Well, no I really plan to. But, I need to breakdown my initial reason for bailing out on Facebook...

The Orb

Dear Journal,

I am allowed a pity party. I detest when others participate in their own but I need to bare an honest lonely soul. Monday morning I contemplated swallowing a bottle of prescription sleeping pills that would sufficiently put me to rest. Tears soaked my pillow as I pictured the bottle in the far reaches of my drawer. Only two footfalls away from my bed, all I needed to do was empty the bottle of pills and one by one slip the chalky oblong shaped substances into my mouth...and just swallow. So simple and so easy. I've never met anyone who hasn't been beckoned by life ending paranoia, so readers of my journal don't be paralyzed with fear that I've been tempted, yet again. My feet anchored to the bed while I thought of my four year old brother who I only met a year and a half ago and my plans to whisk him away to Disney World where dreams come true alongside the $2000 vacation I scrimped and saved for to the Dominican Republic next month. The upcoming events that last week I made painstaking sacrifices to finalize, momentarily seemed trivial. Or what about my dog? What would become of him? Would he wander around whimpering looking for his mother/owner? Those were the only things that came to mind, if I succumbed. On the very anniversary of a relative's suicide, I was thinking of my own. Loneliness encumbered my already heavy heart and I trembled at the further pains I'd have to endure if I were to continue trying to tear the thick cobwebs from around it. Lately my reading choices have eased into the macabre apocalyptic genre where humans are revealed as destructive bitter voids intent on hatred, fed by fear and moved by nothing at all. Its all fiction and false but its a glimpse into the reality of the world. Nearly three days ago, a man balled his hand into a fist and pumped me in my chest because he didn't want to give up the empty seat next to him on the bus and passengers silently sat by, mouths agape. It reminded me of an incident a few years back where I was groped by giggling school age boys in a crowded train station which evoked vivid memories of a sexual assault I've never coped with. The humiliation of that rape still causes nausea to swell into my chest at the thought of any stranger's unwelcome touch and I remembered refusing to leave my bed for days after the groping. The empty stares of the onlookers on that bus and on the subway all those years back, reminded me of people's indifference to an obvious grotesque situation and further made me realize how lonely I was. I had no one to call to receive comfort from because the triggers and violations wouldn't be understood. Not fully. I called my "situation"/ex-boyfriend for his quality reassurance and he hung up. Alone. It hurts to be lonely on the anniversary of a relative's suicide. Scary. So I rode it out. Allowed the tears to soak my pillow and listened to the small voice in my head that told me to rest and wake up later.

Two days later, I'm here.

Spaceship

You know what I realized? Dealing with people is one of the hardest things for me to do. I don't think I've learned how to manage getting use to their egos, their pride, their baggage, their opposite personalities and their opinions. I know that this is what comes with handling and interacting with others but when you have absolutely no idea how to gauge your own colorful make-up, the two becomes an impossible juggling act. So I usually throw up my hands and deem the person, "unmanageable" and pretty much show them the middle finger. Its always been easier for me to wear a frown upon my face, ready an impenetrable attitude and hurl a slew of insults for those unworthy few. Trying to turn around my way of thinking has been impossibly hard but in my hated moments of self-reflection, I think,"Can I really continue to behave this way?" Because who wants to go through life not being able to maintain connections with people who might be able to offer something of importance, no matter how small?

Over a month ago, I ran into a former college roommate of mine on the ferry into lower Manhattan. She sat across from me and her blank eyes briefly met mine. The laughter that wanted to explode from my face wasn't one that could be held so I quickly got up and relieved myself on the upper deck. This girl was infamous around campus for attaching herself to people because she was explainably friendless. People initially welcomed her efforts but she usually became too tiring and a bit stalkerish. When I moved into my new dorm, I told my friends about my roommate and everyone's eyes widened in horror. "Good luck," they told me. Dorm rules were written out and emphasized and I felt confident that we'd get along. She seemed alright a bit talkative but I'm well known for my nasty looks that can silence most people, so I felt that I would be on top of the situation. A few weeks in, I entered my room late one night and she sat in the middle of her bed with a frown. "Could I talk to you?" she asked. It was late and I didn't feel like entertaining any conversations that would turn into a monologue but I gave in. She then proceeded to list the problems that she felt were brewing on my part: I didn't speak to her upon entering our space, I was too quiet, she thought we'd hang out more...etc. It was the weirdest conversation because she felt as if I had this obligation to her as my roommate. Which to me of course wasn't the case, because #1: I didn't choose her as my roommate and #2: I didn't need to do shit because, well hell, I paid to live there (looking back on it, that was way harsh, but I had a real attitude issue then). The night didn't end so well, since I told her to suck it up because not everything was about her and moreover, roommates didn't equal immediate friendship. The situation went downhill from then. If my mother called and it was after 10 p.m. she'd complain and ask that she call earlier instead; she'd wake up early on the mornings I had late classes and bang purposely on her keyboard; she'd touch my television without permission (a definite no no that was outlined in our dorm rules); and then she wouldn't do her half of the chores that were agreed upon. The final straw was when I requested she type a bit softer because it was 7 o'clock in the morning and she yelled for me to shut up. I yanked my covers back and quickly advanced on her with every intention of physical harm when her hands went up in surrender with a meek, "I'm sorry." I left the room in a rage, returned hours later and her side of the room was deserted. I never saw her again.

Whenever I think of that situation, I wondered how I could've dealt with it differently. Its a stretch to believe we would've been friends but acquaintances wouldn't hurt. I'm not the easiest person to co-exist with and believe me, there are moments when I need a break from myself. Its already frustrating that I have issues about maintaining connections with others, but I don't want to be the girl who everyone whispers about because I'm explainably friendless.

I'll have to make due until I can finish building my spaceship and begin construction on my castle located on cloud LoyaltyReliableCourtesy.

...And it Just Keeps Coming

Its sickening the emotional roller coaster that I've been on the past couple of weeks. I'm beginning to annoy myself and the anger is beginning to swell and spill over onto others. Today marks the seventh week of my internship and I'm just about ready to quit which is my usual reaction to situations that frustrates me, but obviously because I'm trying out this "adult" thing, I can't do that. Besides the menial duties that I've been assigned, I've been receiving increasing passive aggressive comments from co-workers. These comments range from the way I might have completed an assignment, to jokes that a normal person would consider offensive and inappropriate for a work environment. Meanwhile I deal by biting my lip and counting backwards from ten because I'm only the intern. Besides that, I work with individuals who complain incessantly about their jobs. Everyone has their hang-ups about their workplace from time to time but when you have people huddling in corners whispering about how "incompetent" the boss is, that's crossing the line. Take that outside of the workplace and pick up a guide on professional etiquette, OR quit and run your own damn company. I've taken on internships where I've felt belittled and I accepted that the person who handed out the mistreatment obviously didn't leave their personal issues at home and besides it was an academic requirement, so I swallowed my anger and shut up. The difference now is, I'm here by absolute choice and I'm overqualified in terms of my job's description. So in this matter, do I sit back and take the idiocy or leave and move on to something where my efforts are a bit more appreciated in a more professionally suited environment?

Circle of...

Two days ago, I received a friend request on Facebook accompanied by a message that made my heart drop. It was from an ex-best friend that I hadn't spoken with in close to four years. She was a friend that I met while in my first year of my hell hole college and she was my life line. Come to think of it, I don't remember how we actually ended up hanging out but my first memory of us starts when she confided to me and two other girls (turned frenemies) that she was pregnant. It was within the first three weeks of our fall semester, both of us were seventeen, journalism majors and extremely homesick.

Hiatus

Something is wrong with me and its affecting my mouth and my fingers and my eyes.
Dear Journal: I'll be back, I promise, but I wouldn't be true if I couldn't express my thoughts properly. I'm waiting for the write (pun intended) time.

Huh?

So...the internship is going well. And they kept their word and paid me...but...

Melanin Flavored & ALWAYS Highly Favored

This evening I was forced to people watch (not that I mind), since I finished "Sula" this morning. I usually try to preoccupy myself with a good read so that I don't fall into a fit of giggles cracking on folks in my head, but this evening I couldn't help it. As I squeezed onto the downtown 1 train, I caught sight of a giggling and smiling White woman with a head full of brittle and brash thinning blond hair that made me shudder. My first thought was, "She's too old to be using such a horrible unnatural hair color." Then my eyes drifted on down to the too tight, leopard print, purple polyester shift dress that was horrendous and unflattering; at this point I needed to understand the rest of her, so I began to focus on the veins popping out of her winter pale skinny legs and I wanted to throw up in my mouth. As the crowd thinned out, I found a seat slightly across from her and took in the strange looking creature. I closed my eyes and murmured, "Thank God for making me melanin-favored."

Sula

I'm re-reading Toni Morrison's novel, "Sula" for the third time. Morrison is one of my favorite authors and everytime I re-read a novel of hers (I own them all) it summons a new inspiration that I didn't receive in the previous reads. Morrison focuses on the book's namesake, Sula Peace, who from the time she was a child to adulthood shared an intimate bond with her bestfriend, Nel Wright. They considered themselves "one and the same" and shared everything from comparing the way one boy kissed, to deathly secrets. Sula and Nel's intimate bond finally shatters when Sula realizes all of Nel's treasures aren't hers to possess and it drives Sula into a wonderous despair that I find myself relating to.

Morrison has a way with words that brings to mind poetry, but she creates such an awesome literary imagination for the reader that it doesn't allow you to drift too far from the agony that Sula feels. Here's an excerpt that really spoke to me because it speaks about my ever-elusive "connectedness":

"...She had been looking all along for a friend, and it took her a while to discover that a lover was not a comrade and could never be - for a woman. And that no one would ever be that version of herself which she sought to reach out to and touch with an ungloved hand. There was only her own mood and whim, and if that was all there was, she decided to turn the naked hand toward it, discover it and let others become as intimate with their own selves as she was."

Forever Young

Saturday, I went to "First Saturdays" at the Brooklyn Museum with my mom and step dad. I was meeting up with one of my good friends from college to catch up. As we strolled through exhibits in our heels we shared our love woes, as hers is similar to mine and vice versa. It seems as though everyone is having relationship issues these days. We found a bench tucked within the Egyptian artifacts exhibit and we related, laughed and pondered. Then it dawned on me that in a few weeks she'll be turning the big two-five and I didn't have much longer until I neared that turning point either. When the hell did that happen? I swear I was just filling out college applications, figuring out if I would be attending my high school prom, cutting class and experimenting with my friends. It all flew by so quickly...

Not that I would want those days back. Sadly, during my teenage experience I always wanted to be an adult. I wanted the freedom that adulthood promised, never needing to answer to anyone since I led a very sheltered childhood. But I lived it, I liked it give or take a few mishaps, but I don't want it again, thank God. With the invention of Facebook and statuses, I've noticed most of my high school and college peers have started families (gasp!) and marriage (yikes!), and I feel as though I haven't even started "adulthood." But to be fair, I never wanted children or marriage, hence why I couldn't wait to embrace freedom at twenty-one. But it still feels as though they "appear" to lead fuller lives rather than an empty one, and I'm scratching my head trying to figure out how do I go about making my life a little more worthier before that big two-five. I guess I have a deadline and some goals to accomplish. Get ready for my list to come.

By the by, my internship starts tomorrow! *Crosses fingers and toes.

The Looking Glass

An hour ago, he called, we argued, I started to cry and I managed to heave through my tears that I couldn't talk to him anymore. I hung up. He called three times back to back, left two voicemails. Sniffling, I made my way to my knees and clasped my hands together in prayer. I asked that HE allow me to move on, to grant me the strength to let this go for sanity's sake and to help me love being me because if I can't how can I love anyone else?

I'm stuck inside this glass while I look around at all the happenings around me, partly because I'm hung up on one person who seems to desire seeing me miserable. Fourth time's a charm? No?