Pain

I haven't talked to you in days. I'm missing the sound of your voice. I'm hurting at the thought of not being able to talk to you again. Are you missing me as much as I miss you? Does the mere idea of not hearing my voice weaken you? Tears are threatening to fall from my eyes at any minute. I try my best to keep them in, fearful that once they start I will have no way of stopping them. How do I go on doing me without you being a part of it? How do I look at anythiing the same when I won't be able to view it through your eyes? I don't know how I'll even be able to breath knowing I can't pick up the phone and call you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I don't miss anything or anyone and I miss you. What hurts the most is I don't know if you're missing me.

Magical

I lay looking at the ceiling fan as it pulsated and cooled the area that was just torched by your touch. Every cell in my being is wide awake screaming "Rejoice" for the release you have just given them. FUCKING, that wondorous action that heals wounds, rights wrongs and just feels so damn good. That's what you did to me tonight.

Wonder

You asked me if my feelings for you are changing. I deny that emphatically. "No!", I reply almost too hastily. Have my feelings changed? Do I still want you as feverishly as I have before? I know that part of my frustration is that I can't have you the way that I want you. I know that if I ask for more you're going to give me the "situation" and I am just not trying to hear that bullshit. When I say that I need to be with you, then I need to be with you. I don't care about your situation. I respect the shit, but I don't care. Many times lately I've thought of telling you that I'm going to see other people. Who am I going to see? No one holds a candle to you and I know that. But at the same time, I need a balance because I've put myself in this position of being in love with you and accepting whatever you give me. I can't do that anymore. But I don't want to speak idle talk. I don't want it to be a reaction-invoking speech. When I come to you, I want to come to you with certainty, with someone who is worthy of what will be the undoing of us. Am I ready? Is it time for me to let you go?

Moping

I want you to tell me it's going to be okay. I want you to hold me and tell me it's going to be okay. I want you inside of me and tell me it's going to be okay. With every stroke of your dick, my hair, your back, I'll feel that it's going to be okay. No fido, no shetlands, just the two of us rejoicing with our bodies those things we can't say in words. We merge and I become your Aphrodite and your venom all at once, afraid to say how it makes me feel for fear you'll reject me. You afraid to tell me because you fear the truth. Words not needed because we both could lose with this overload. Spontaneously, once tell me you love me so that it may carry me for a lifetime. I so crave tenderness from you. The stroke of back, the stroke of your dick, all at once, all in all, total submission to a pleasure that for others is mystical but for us....truth

Confusion II

I was talking to YOU in the car on the way to work and what you said stung. Do you want us to be out in the open? Is it your wish for everyone to know we are what we are? Am I worth the risk to you. You once said that you want me to fight for you. What does that mean? What does fighting for you entail. Does it require me to make my presence known. What do you hope to accomplish by doing this. Does this become to you a testament to the feelings that I have for you. Is that what you want from me? Do you want the ultimate truth? I talked to K last night and we was trying to get me to explain why I didn't see you as my future. How could I not see you as my future. No man has enraptured me the way you have. No lover so complete who makes me dream, wish, think, rejoice, pause, breathe, stop, wonder, know the way you do. No companion so accepting, yet so honest with me about me to me. As I type of you, my fingers start to tingle at the thought of you seeing me naked, clothed, laying, standing. I look consistently at my phone to make sure I don't miss your call.

Betrayal

How do I tell YOU I slept with him? How do I say to YOU that place his dick in my mouth and gave him the best fucking blow job I could? I initiated the kiss between the two of us. He was merely trying to say hello. We hadn't been together since I have been with YOU. I licked his body like my very survival depended on each moan and groan he offered to me. I knew I was doing a good ass job. He couldn't hold his head up to look down at the job I was doing. Not very many women offer the opportunity to look. I thrive on it. It feeds me, gives me the edge to go on. His dick became my IV, giving me the fluids I needed to sustain life. When he entered me, I felt my flesh burn from the tear of my skin. I was on top of him so I could control the movement. He allowed me to do that. He just grabbed me and allowed, if only for a little while, the control of rhythm to be mine. Do I tell YOU how good it felt to have him inside of me? Do I tell YOU how with each stroke, my pussy was screaming from pleasure and begging for release at the same time? Do I tell YOU his hands sought mine, so that he could touch me and make me aware of the passion he was putting forth to me. I missed him and even though I didn't have to tell him (my pussy was doing plenty of talking for me), I told him anyway. He told me the same. With each stroke, his dick hardened and he gave me the kind of sex that only could only get from a nigger who enjoys what the fuck he is doing. We was enjoying me and I was enjoying him. Hours passed and we did not give pause. Ascending and descending, mountains and valleys of pleasure and pain rolling over each other until the two became one in the same. How do I tell YOU this? How do I tell YOU I thought of YOU the entire time?

Confusion

YOU told me last night that I am not open about my feelings for YOU. Of course I am open about my feelings. I realize and accept the fact that I love YOU. It's a scary, wondrous, amazing thing. Even when we are fighting, I look forward to hearing your voice everyday. I sometimes feel as though my day hasn't started because I haven't talked to YOU. My night doesn't end unless I have heard YOU tell me "I'm at home Boo." Sometimes, I hear a longing in your voice, wishing YOU weren't at home so soon. Maybe I wish it were longing that I heard. Now YOU tell me that there was time when YOU did replacements and what ifs? The thought of them scared YOU, so you tried to disconnect emotionally from me. Do YOU want me gone and just want me to do the dirty work? YOU have decide what your feelings are for me and what to do with them. Do YOU want to remove the sex from our relationship? Is the lovemaking we share so intense that it brings about uncomfortable feelings for YOU? Does she not make you feel the way I do when we are next each other? I can't help the way I respond to YOU when YOU touch me. Every kiss, stroke, lick, whisper, and moan has a transcendental quality that takes me to a place beyond any place. I need that from YOU. Why won't YOU give it to me?

Anger

How in the FUCK are YOU going to make demands of me? All I wanted YOU to do was show up. YOU didn't. Now, YOU say YOU are sorry. I feel so incredibly stupid. I know I love YOU. I know YOU don't love me. I can deal with that. What pisses me off is the fact that I actually thought YOU gave a damn. YOU don't give a damn and that is the part that is so infuriating. I want to hear sincerity in your voice. I know YOU are placating me. I can't escape. Right now at this very moment, I yearn for YOU to touch me like YOU touched me before. I want to feel YOU inside of me, while clinging to the hope that it isn't as good as I remembered. I tell myself that after that final taste of YOU, I'll be satisfied and I can walk away from YOU, and I won't look back. I keep looking at my cell, hoping YOU will call, just to hear your voice so that my pain starts fresh. I don't want to talk to YOU, I need to talk to YOU. It's 1:30. YOU haven't called me back. Why do I keep looking at my cell?

Torture

I sat up and waited for YOU. I even went and sat in my car to wait so I wouldn't miss your call (damn weak ass phone signal). I watched An Affair to Remember and looked at the couple as they finally became reunited in the end. Something told me YOU weren't going to show up. I don't know about anyone else's Something, but mine is pretty strong. When YOU called and asked if I had done it, I should have told YOU then that she hadn't done it. I just wanted to be with YOU so badly, I allowed myself to hope and allowed her to do the transaction. YOU chuckled and I had the audacity to think it was because YOU were as excited about being with me as I was about being with YOU. I kept hoping YOU would call to say "I'm sorry". YOU didn't YOU never called. It's 10:21 and YOU still have not called. I sit here at my desk listening to MeShell Ndegeocello's voice. I contemplate what I'll say to YOU when YOU call. I know YOU will call. YOU need confirmation of my pain

Have I been busy!!!

What a whirlwind these past few months!!! Let's do a rundown of my activities:

I decided to be a nappyhead

I went natural a few years ago before my son was born but it didn't last very long. After being inspired by my girl, I decided to do it again and stick with it. I cut my hair September 1st after about 4 months of transitioning. Here is what I've learned:

1. My hair is a reflection of change in my life. When I started transitioning, I changed my hairstyle from one that was essentially a straight hairstyle to a curly one within a matter of weeks. One of my colleagues said I was going thorugh a state of transition in my life and my hair was simply reflecting that. At the time, I wasn't doing anything drastic nor did I foresee any drastic changes in the future. However, I didn't discount what she said and I simply held on to that.

It's About Time

Well, Looky Here!!

It's about time somebody gave my girls their propers. I swear I could write my dissertation I'm supposed to being working on around Girlfriends. Perhaps after seeing this one, the brass will straighten up and know that Toni belongs on this show

Nigger, Please!!

A friend of mine who happens to know the author sent me this website. I read an advance copy of the book. I must WOW!!! It is definitely on the cutting edge. Anyone who is aware of the degradation we consistently put ourselves through as people should grab this one.

I knew I wasn't the only one!!!!

For all of those who just loooooooooooove Ms. Tyra Banks and her Oprah lite (to quote a fellow blogger), check out this article :

That Damn Tyra

I've often felt that Tyra was harder on her black models than she was on their white counterparts. I tried to attribute this to the "tough love" model, but for this last ANTM cyle, it just wasn't working for me.

That's as much as I'm going to say about ANTM. I think Rich does a tremendous job with ANTM.

I just couldn't let this one slide

Sweet & Sour II

Sweet

1) Tuna fish with blue cheese on spinach leaves with a drizzle of olive oil dressing
2) Pants that actually disguise my tootsie roll (that indeliable roll of fat that goes from one side of your waist to the other and sits on the top of your pants, uhh!)
3) Accessories
4) Craft day at my son's school
5) Talk Radio (it's my new thing I've discovered in the past few weeks)
6) Vanilla Candles
7) Breaks between semesters when there are only a few students on campus
8) www.akatrinawalk.com
9) Sugarbear's love of learning
10) cell phones

Sour

1) My tootsie roll
2) Getting up at 5:30 to start my day, I am definitely a nocturnal creature
3) Stilettos as the sexy shoes; why not ballet flats?
4) Expense reports
5) Strengthing nails after years of acrylics
6) The fact that he married her
7) Indecisiveness: mine and others'
8) Savage Nation
9) The end of Grey's Anatomy for the season
10) Packus Ratious: My inability to throw things away

We younger Negro artists...

"We younger Negro artists who create now intend to express our individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame. If white people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, it doesn't matter. We know we are beautiful. And ugly too. The tom-tom cries and the tom-tom laughs. If colored people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, their displeasure doesn't matter either. We build our temples for tomorrow, strong as we know how, and we stand on top of the mountain, free within ourselves." --Langston Hughes

Motherhood is....

Knowing that every morning you have a reason to wake up, if for nothing more than to fix him some strawberries & cream instant oatmeal

Learning you can love someone so much that you've only known a short amount of time

The ultimate compliment to your mother by instilling her values in your child

Finding joy in running in the rain with someone who finds it fascinating

The perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon

Knowing that you are much stronger than people give you credit for

Having a bond with a complete stranger just because you have that in common

A way for your parents to vicariously spoil and punish you at the same time

Showing a patience you never knew you possessed

Watching Toon Disney s0 much you know the schedule

Wanting to absorb the pain so that he doesn't have to feel it

Knowing that the pain will only serve to make him stronger so he has to experience it

Sitting in traffic for two hours just so you can get home and watch him write his name five times

Being late for work every morning so you can be there to help him dress every morning

Smiling when you see him tell someone they look nice

Never getting tired of receiving wild weeds as flowers each time he goes out to play

Giving him the last cookie just you're about to take a bite and he walks in the room

Not getting that pedicure because he needs another pair of tennis shoes

Proof that God exists and he smiles favorably upon you...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

Ramblings...

I wanna be a chef. Not an outstanding chef who works for an amazing restaurant that garners five stars. Just one that's good enough to look in the kitchen and whip up an amazing meal with lemons, mushrooms, and sour cream, which are things that are constantly in my fridge that always go bad.

Sweet & Sour

I've mentioned before that I believe in living life as fully as you can. I also believe in being grateful for biggest and smallest things in life. Therefore I've decided to periodically list ten things I am grateful for (Sweet). Alternately, since I am evil (only 30%), I'll go ahead a list ten things that drive me nuts (Sour). Here's the kicker: things that are on my Sweet list may end up on my Sour list and vice versa (I love that phrase). Some things I list only I will know what they are. Since I write this blog to throw it out to the universe, if it comes back then I'll be glad to indulge. So, if you happen to stumble across this and are a little more curious, then hit me up for further explanation. So, here we go in no particular order:

Sweet

1) Being able to listen to music at work; music feeds me, so the ability to have it already me at all times is phenomenal. I've had jobs before that I couldn't so I know the difference
2) Soap; self-explanatory
3) K3 & L-Boog; Everybody needs the ones I have
4) Orgasms; please, don't even ask
5) Sugarbear; to know that a life that actually walks on this earth started in your womb is proof God exists
6)Mute button; when you want to be rude, but you don't want it known
7) Mommy; mine is the one everyone wishes they had
8) My degrees; they get me to places I wouldn't have access to otherwise
9) Viola & Black; the very definition
10) Lemon-head & V-Rone; They gave me an anthem

Sour

1) Small office; what good is an office when you still have to whisper for fear of being heard
2) Liver; what the hell?
3) Alarm clocks; nothing to start your morning like a jarring sound that scares the shit out of you
4) My boss; just on this particular day
5) Stilettos; for ruining the concept of "flat is sexy"
6) My degrees; they prohibit me from going places I want to go
7) Bad sex; this should be an oxymoron
8) Stupidity; there is just no excuse
9) Uniforms; how are you going to express your individuality
10) Insecurity; it just brings about a myriad of other bad things

JustThrowingItOutToTheUniverse

Building My Own Sandcastles...

Have you ever noticed that oftentimes books that are turned into screenplays somehow don't quite capture the book? My favorite book of all time is Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. I love this book and the author for a number of reasons, but they all combobulate into one mantra: Live life on your own terms. Anyway, I finally watched the made-for-tv movie starring Halle Berry.

I knew I was going to be quite critical of the movie before I even sat down to watch it. I discovered Their Eyes at least ten 10-12 years ago. Before I had a concept of self-assurance, empowered or even feminism, I knew this book spoke to me. I also knew that this book in some way shape or form had to be autobiographical because no author could breathe life into a character like Janie and not have experienced it.

The great thing about books is they give you a foundation that allows your imagination to truly create what you want your book to be. Your mind creates this story of ice cream and sandcastles and you get to determine what the exact shade of spearmint is.

In my mind, I had conjured up Janie and all of the relationships she had encountered on her journey of self-discovery. She was my own personal heroine when others around me were praising Jane Austen characters for their resolve to live life on their own terms.

Okay, so I prepare myself to be disappointed at Oprah’s attempt to once again enlighten the masses (another commentary coming soon, I assure you). I have nothing against Halle Berry. I think she has the potential to be an incredible actress if she’ll only completely surrender herself. She is just not my idea of Janie. Janie is soul of souls. She is beautiful, but it’s in a way that is unconventional so that it isn’t “Oh, she is so beautiful “. It’s more of the type of looks that make you stop and wonder why you can’t stop looking at this person.

Well, Halle did a pretty good job. However I am extremely disappointed at how the directors, producers, whoever, failed to truly capture the essence of Janie. Oprah described Their Eyes as her favorite love story. However, it’s more than that. Characters like Janie aren’t immortalized just because they are great reads. She is a heroine because Zora Neale recognized way back then that our souls often yearn for more than what we are often given. If we don’t give in to that yearning, it will only make us miserable and admonish those who do; not out of sense of level-headedness (is that a word), but out of envy.

Happiness, however you define it, is meant to be experienced. The true sense of happiness doesn’t leave you cold and wishing. It leaves you warm and fulfilled, grateful that you even had the opportunity to find it.

So to those who think that America is benefited by taking great literature and transforming it into the big screen, some people like sandcastles in just their own shade of spearmint.

It just pisses me off...

Does it ever piss you off when someone takes one snippet out of context? I left my commentary on a subject recently on a blog. Wellwhatdoyaknow? A person comes behind me and decides to comment on ONE aspect of my comment, totally neglecting to consider all the points I had listed before he went off on his f*cking self-righteous vent. Mr. Better Days, how in the fuck do you know if a person is happy being fat or not. Have you ever been fat? Have you ever known the joy of sitting before a plate of chili cheese fries and eating them with an abandon so reckless, an orgasm of multiple proportions could just exude from your body. Probably not, you're too fucking busy eating your damn watercress salad with balsamic vinegarette with a side of tofu; all the while criticizing the chick as the table next to you because she doesn't get the wheat toast instead of the regular white toast.

Some people have not been educated about the foods that are not the best for them. They only know what Momma puts on their plates every night after she has been working two jobs to barely get them what is on their plates. As a result, unless they learn otherwise, the grow up eating those same things. And No, the doctor didn't tell them the dangers of their diet. Do you know why Mr. "perpetuating the madness?" It's because she can't afford health insurance. And no she does not spend it all on getting her nails or her hair done or buying her child the latest sneakers. It's because she simply cannot afford the fucking insurance. I am sooo sick ofyou self-righteous muthafuckas who pass your judgements down on people (Cos, you too) and attribute it to internal factors. Sometimes, the shit is external locus of control.

JustThrowingItOutToTheUniverse

I have been blessed...

Okay, one of my ABSOLUTE favorite blogs is Just Being Critical www.justbeingcritical.com These brothers speak to me in ways that I can't even begin to articulate. It's even a little frustrating because the shit I want to write about somehow appears on their blog. It's like the mofos are sitting in my brain. Well, it's been a really hectic couple of weeks for me, hence the lack of posts here on the blog. It's really my random thoughts so I'm not looking for an audience. If I get it, fine. If not, at least I'll have tangible proof of the innerworkings of my mind. Anyway back to the subject. I check my email and guess who has sent me an email. You guessed it, Mr. Critical himself. He even gave me a little praise on my little blog. How great is that!!!! So, anyway after almost two weeks of not posting, this is how I bring myself back to the world.
Anyway, keep doing your thing fellas. The world is waiting...One criticism at a time.

JustThrowingItOutToTheUniverse