About Me

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Philadelphia, PA, United States
I suck at bios. Am horrible at telling interesting things about myself without embarassing myself at the same time. So I stick to the basics: My mind is forever active; always thinking and asking questions. I enjoy reading. Love writing. But if it were up to me, I'd love for a lifetime because love, is an animal that as untamed as it is, it's perfect.

Monday, June 27, 2011

{#GOODmusic}: "All Your Love"

I'd never seen nor heard this sung, until I just so happen to be watching a bit of BET's 106 & Park, and this was on. The beat I recall is from one of my fav songs, Lauryn Hill f/ Bob Marley "Turn the Lights Down Low". Very cute, summer-perfect song <3

All Your Love

Untitled Freewrite (problem with power & relationships)

Clearly, I, have given you too much power. More power than you could or can even handle. And now, because I’ve relinquished your hands, thoughts, and spirit of that very thing that you had no clue what to do with, and that very thing that you abused, you have no a clue what to do without it – or me. But baby, that’s ok. We were not born in power nor raised in it or taught exactly what it was. But, by the time we realized just what it is or was, our psyches had already been confused and brainwashed us that power meant harm. And because of that warped education that we received, you, took it all overboard. And you, did me worst than a woman carrying buckets on her clothed wrapped head in attempt to feed her starving children. You, took me and my love for granted. You, left us lonely in between flannel sheets and cold cotton comforters. And you, expected me to falter without you. Oh trust me, I’m just fine baby. I was bred to survive. I, was created and reared, raised and taught to make it in this cold, cold world.

Clearly, our love was just as genuine and true as Florida oranges with no insecticides or chocolate covered strawberries hand-dipped and made from scratch and with love. We, and everybody else just knew, we, would be it. That we, would make it. That we, by all intents and purposes, would run this town and just maybe, just maybe this world too. We, were the shit. But, little did they know, our love was rocky and rough, it was petite and stretched thin.

Honey, we lasted for reasons different from each other. To you, we lasted and survived because we were meant to be. Because there was something about you that kept me coming back. That there was something about me that you just couldn’t shake from out of those limbs of yours. But to me, it was out of mere stupidity that I continuously returned; wishful thinking and hoping wishfully that something would click and change. That something would be different this time around. But this time around never came around for me to rejoice in change and accomplishment. Instead, I, waited for you, to make a decision that was never made. And a heart like mine, couldn't bare the anguish, nor the pain any longer.

And before I knew it, I was deep in it and digging foot holes to crawl out and reclaim me, so I could escape you, and what I thought, and hoped, we had. To re-discover me, and the parts of me that had been long relinquished and placed into shadows, forgetting who I was so that we, you, could exist.

But baby, all is well. As I've taken back my power so that I could once again live and breathe again. So that I could wake in the morning and fall asleep under the moon's glow, happily cause I tell you, there's nothing like, awaking somewhere you wish not to be. There's nothing like feeling a knotting in the pit of your stomach that immobilizes your senses and abilities. There is nothing like losing, your power to the one you loved; and fighting to get it back.

re-discovering me

I feel like I'm always "rediscovering me". Like I'm always lost or something goes awry and I'm left clueless and confused. Left to pick up the pieces just to realize that the pieces don't paint the picture I last remember. Not a good look, and an even worst feeling. But life goes on right? 

Of course, it has to.

Life is the one and only thing that allows us to transform ourselves more times than we can keep count. Transformations and changes that exceed the number of fingers that we're born with. Who we are now, will not be who we are in six months, let alone one or 20 years from now. And that, is a tad bit frightening, but equally exciting. 

In the past year, I've been broke without a complete dollar to my name, gotten out of, back in, and back out of a relationship, changed jobs and fields, I've given up my apartment for a new beginning, stopped relaxing hair and exchanged my long flowing tresses for a tight curly puff while seesawing back and forth on whether I should return to relaxed hair. I've been lied to, cheated on, threatened, and have felt angrier at myself than I ever have in this life of mine.

One of the worst feelings in this world, is to know you're lied to, or done wrong, because another didn't feel as though you were worthy of the truth. Or worth the honesty you duly deserve. You're left to morph into Inspector Gadget to seek answers to questions you've verbally asked. And you're left to pick up the pieces of such ill-fated decisions. There aren't enough words I don't believe that can really pinpoint just how I feel, as there are times when I don't have a clue just what I feel.

One day at a time. As simple as this statement sounds and looks, it's probably one of the hardest set of words to put into action. To put into motion and practice. I'm used to constantly moving and making life happen. But how do you get un-used to such a thing? How do you get accustomed to things, life, being different from what you remember?

So as a dedication and promise to myself and my mother, this upcoming 4th of July weekend, I'm going to live life like it should be lived. And as much as I look forward to the most poppin'est weekend I've had in some time, there is a bit of apprehension because it's been so long since I've done something for me or put me first to take care of me. This upcoming weekend, I plan to be a floater and a wearer of many hats, pumps, flip-flops, dresses, capris, tanks, and swimsuits. Living life bar, yacht, restaurant, beach, museum, movie, mall hopping. Living life like it ought to be. All while laying my many loads down for a few days to allow myself to smile and breathe freely and comfortably.

I take now to shed what's left of my old self, so that the new me can emerge and immerse herself into a new life that she's waited oh so patiently for.

Monday, June 20, 2011

{#GOODmusic}: "I'm Lookin'"

Nicole Wray
I'm Lookin'

I've been searching for this song and/or video for some time. Definitely a throwback (2001), but whew, the memories. Enjoy!

{#GOODmusic}: "Man Down"


The Itch that Don't Need Scratching

There's nothing cuter in this world than holding a baby and watching them coo, giggle, and smile. Nothing sweeter than kissing their petite feet, fingers, and toes, or blowing onto bellies protruding over diapers to hear them laugh hysterically. And even more so, there's nothing like watching them grow into fast-talking toddlers with vocabularies that can now form opinions, wants, and full fledge statements. I remember watching my brother as a toddler, though we're only three years apart, I remember his growth and habits. He's now a well-adjusted, fun loving 21 year old man. Our sister, who's three, seems to have grown up overnight. She knows her colors, ABCs, and 123s. She has to help pick out her clothes and voices her opinion on what "blip-blops" she wants to wear today.

Children, no matter how small or large, how sweet or otherwise, truly are the best things made of this world. They show us who we are as they are our best mirrors. And yet, I've found myself from time-to-time, wanting a child of my own for these very same reasons. Odd right? Shoot, scary too!

 At first I thought it was just me. But then I realized on Twitter timelines, Facebook statuses, and everyday conversations, a lot of women my age, were beginning to feel the itch of wanting a baby. A whole entire child. Some because of the cuteness, some to have someone to love more than we love ourselves and more than the man we've created this child with (in some cases at least). For whatever reason, children sometimes have become an active thought subject for those of us in our mid-twenties.

And again, scary thought.

One of my best friends and I always joke about how miserable and mean I'd be as a pregnant woman. And she tells just as quickly "Yup me and the kids are going to have move in for the first 4 months". We've been besties since we were little girls growing up in the projects and she now is a wonderful wife and even more fabulous mother of three gorgeous little girls. I've watched her in action as the oldest practices her ballet, the middle baby is screaming for more  dry cereal, and the baby is cooing and laughing on her hip. She quiets them all without raising her voice or showing an ounce of frustration. I tell her all the time, you're the type of mother I want to be with patience of steel.

I don't know where this itch comes from. But I know how to rid it and do so quickly. Remember that three year little girl I mentioned in the beginning? Her. My brother and I call her the perfect example of birth control. She can be the sweetest child on Earth when she wants to be. But more times than not, it's a screamfest at our mother's as she's constant, non-stop noise. Full of screams and laughter, you're more likely to trip over a dolls head and bang your knee against one of her three bikes - whichever one she chooses to cruise through the house on because "Sasha tryna get me". Sasha's the cat by the way. This child who I love soooo dearly, is the antihistamine that hasn't been tapped into for the "baby itch".

See, babies grow up and babies eventually talk and grow in themselves. And at 24, I seriously, just cannot imagine chasing after a toddler who's nonstop, all day. I tip my hat and offer many accolades to those who are doing the things I can't picture right now. It's not about selfishness, or me being full of myself. There are things in life that we know whether we're ready for or not. And when it comes to children, regardless of how great I am with them, they're the one thing I'd probably gag and cry at the news of "Ms. Clark, you're pregnant" right now.

So 'til the time is right and all of my stars and moons have aligned for the children who will eventually come from me to be bought into this world, I'll take my daily dose of the three year old who wears my shoes, dabs into my nail polish, and attaches herself to me more than I can keep count.

Kids are cute. But I'll stick with the kid who isn't mine and the cat I wake up to daily.

Regina Belle
If I Could

Sunday, June 12, 2011

{#GOODmusic}: "So In Love"

Jill Scott f/ Anthony Hamilton
So In Love

Pre Order "The Light of the Sun" on iTunes: http://wbr.fm/JillScottLOTS

"Light of the Sun" in stores June 21st, 2011
featuring "Shame" f/ Eve and "Hear My Call"

Budweiser Superfest Presents: Jill Scott Summer Block Party Dates:
7/28/11 NYC
7/30/11 Detroit
7/31/11 Chicago
8/3/11 Cleveland
8/4/11 St. Louis
8/6/11 Philadelphia {I will be there!}

8/7/11 D.C.
8/10/11 LA
8/14/11 Oakland
8/17/11 Memphis
8/19/11 Atlanta
8/21/11 Virginia Beach
8/23/11 Raleigh
8/24/11 Charlotte
8/27/11 Dallas
8/28/11 Houston

Friday, June 10, 2011

Shacking Up

For some, it works wonders. For others, it's a deal breaker. For me, never again.
We moved expecting that life would only get better. Yeah, we expected and anticipated hard times, but long as we had each other, life was headed for All-Graveyland.

At least that's what we thought.

Before I knew it, good times and laughter were soon out the window and nonstop hard times were waltzing through the door. From infidelity and lost of trust to reduced work hours and not so amicable break-ups, I tell you, this wasn't what I signed up for. But then again, when shacking up, this is exactly what I signed up for.

Three and a half years, three break-ups, hundreds of sleepless nights, screaming fits with wall shattering glasses later, I've finally come to make the decision not to ever, ever, ever, shack up again. Til' death do me part, if no ring, vows, and marriage certificate, Theresa'll be living alone.

And this is no laughing matter. This is the real deal.

A co-worker and I had this very same conversation while at work at the end of our shift as the boys were on their way to sleep. Granted it's totally understood that not all men and women are like me and him, and in some situations, it works. But in others, it can be a total diaster (hence my case). And because of this, I'd never suggest or push for a dating couple to move in and live together. There's too much messyness that comes along it. Yes, it would be grand to learn a partner's habits before marrying. And yes, it's nice to have someone to fall asleep and wake up next to at night and in the morning. And it's even sweeter to have someone to spend off-days cozied next to while watching reruns of your favorite shows and movies. Yes, these things are fabolous. And there's nothing like it...


Of course there's the flip side to it too. There's also the emotional inability to realize that something's wrong in your relationship because you're spazing about the dishes piling up in the sink, his sticky socks clinging to your lace Victoria Secret hiphuggers, and lets not forget about the overflowing clothes hampers that need to be washed while the over-stuffer roaster's cooking. It's easier to spot shit from a distance than if it's already in your personal space. It's easier to forget about yourself when you're sharing corridors with your partner. And once we forget about ourselves, and become blind to the foolishness that may be happening, a relationship's approval rating plummets and home becomes hell, catching ablaze.

So while I my spend days and nights piecing a new life together, I reflect on such a decision that I'll go to lengths if need be to share my story with others in hope that they can prevent themselves from experiencing what I battled through and finally escaped. Often, after we've successfully taken 10 steps forward, we have to take double those steps back to check ourselves, our lives, and our circles. And one thing I've realized during my ongoing reality check, shacking up, is the one thing I promise myself that I'll never do again.

The love I can handle, the messyness I can't.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Zora & the Lesson of Time

"Bitterness is the coward's revenge on the world for having been hurt."

— Zora Neale Hurston

I know that this linguistically, aesthetically, socially, culturally and morally is incorrect: but, I fucks with Zora Neale Hurston. And that is the most sincere, to-the-point way that I can describe just how much I not only admire but do respect her and her work; everything she stood for and stood against. The time she came of age in, is vastly different from that of my own, but our stories, the words we choose to use - or the words that choose to use us, remind me of who I would have been if I too came of age in her lifetime. And though my choice of words may not garner the most or best respect that she is justly due - to say I admire, adore, respect, look up to this woman and her literary work, would undermine just how much I really do admire, adore, respect, and look up to this woman. So to say I fucks with Zora Neale Hurston, linguistically, is  a terminology that I'm sure will pull in and grasp a 14 year old city girl who's preparing to walk into high school having not a clue what life has in store for her. And maybe, she'll read this and want to too fucks with Zora Neale Hurston.

Make no question nor qualms, this is not about  ones or my vocabulary in the least bit, but about the simplest and most human way to get a point across. And sometimes, to get that point across is to approach a situation, person, or idea, differently than most individuals would, or previously have. Just like in courting and in love, we nab hearts because our approach was different, or our kiss was sweeter and more sensual, passionate than our predecessor.

I fell upon Zora Neale Hurston as a  sophomore, maybe a junior in high school.   Her legendary book There Eyes Were Watching God, I found in a classroom, flipped the green book on its face, read the back, and had to have it. It wasn't stealing either because when you steal something, usually, you really don't need it. I needed this book.  And sure enough, I read it in I want to say two days, and since, if you will, I've been obsessed with learning about this woman in particular and that time period. She came of age around the time of the Harlem Renaissance, which I had already been deftly obsessed with since I learned who Langston Hughes was as a little girl being snatched up and held onto by the world of poetry and words. I had always been amazed since a child that this movement was successful because of  folk who looked just like me. But when my eyes crossed paths with Ms. Hurston and her fiery swagger that was unmatched for her time, I realized a few things - one in particular being the type of woman I was then growing into.

As I would grow older and experience more in life, I would seek her words by way of quotes because even in simple words and phrases, her sass is always evidently apparent. And its her sass I've tried to take pieces of over the years.

Aside from the obvious timing of life's hardships and time itself, her words in a large sense have taught me that time is not to be transcended, but to be marveled in. Not escaped, but only to be anticipated and pray that it be on our side. It's the years we've succeeded
 that come along with it leave their marks on our faces and bodies - lets it be known with a quick glimpse how sincere or harsh our years have been. Whether thru wrinkles, scars, or dimly shimmering eyes, those around us get a quick picture of what sorts of lives we've led just with a quick glimpse.

At the end of every spring and entrance of every summer, I pray for summer to be gentle to me. I ask for it to allow me to live a life I've never lived before, but one that is understanding and conducive to me and those that share my space. I pray for it to be joyful and glad, for it to be full of proud memories and collective photos to tell the stories without me ever having to purse lips to began to tell what that summer was all about. 

One thing I've learned, is that time and life doesn't keep in your life what or who doesn't belong; who doesn't add to us beneficially.  And regardless of how much we disagree with such an idea or thought, the best is done for us for be better. And often, it's done before we understand the magnitude of the situation. Whether its a friendship, relationship, residence or career move - everything in life has a motive and we're simply accomplices.

Life lets us be cocky. It warrants us to challenge ideas of what is and what isn't acceptable. It allows us to change ourselves and who we think we are time after time; to be more than one person in the lifetime we spend here. And if we're lucky enough, we cross paths with those who teach us and show us who we don't want to be: the horrid step-parents, the creepy teacher with a mole on her face, the boyfriend from hell, or the self-centered "friend". And if we're really lucky, we learn about people like Zora Neale Hurston, who teach us that there's nothing in this life that's off limits to us - and it's our responsibility to seize every moment and opportunity that we want and thus deserve.  

It's taken me a long time to learn a lot of lessons; some lessons have taken more trials  than they really should have, but the lesson was learned. Some, have drained me of nearly every piece of probable or possible energy I had in me, but yet I mustered the strength to keep going, and eventually relinquish all rights and responsibilities.

"Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me."
Zora Neale Hurston, 1891-1960