getting my peace of mind

Dear You.


Yes you. Especially if you think this is about you, then yes, it can be about you too. I know somewhere in your psyche, you think, well, you've convinced yourself that without you, I'd be nothing. Better yet, I would have been up shit's creek without a paddle to maintain the waves or a compass to know which way to go, if it all weren't for you. Claiming credit where it by far is not due.


But guess what? I'm fine. And like many urbanites like myself who weren't born with a silver spoon attached to their tongues, I'm good. And to be honest, I'm glad, no happy, shit, I'm proud of me for having walked away and not looking back. For having grown the balls you were incapable of maintaining to say enough was enough.


I claim myself and only the individual I am. Heart, mind, titties, ass, smile, happiness, everything - all included. And I must say, I am the grand prize. I am above 1st place status and especially beyond 2nd place "runner-up-coming-up". There's no one like me. And never will be. This though, you already know.


I am over what was and what use to be. And just because I'm spilling my sarcastic ass feelings into this piece of literature, it does not mean I want you. No sir.


I need nor do I want anything from you. I desire nor crave nothing that comes of your being. No conversations, apologies, puppy dog eyes of a man who's lost his battle. Nothing. No phone calls, text messages, e-mails; no forms of communication. No reason to connect. I harbor no ill feelings, hostility, nor anger. I wish nothing upon your life that could potentially do harm to you or that could alter your life in ways you cannot even imagine. 


My main and only concern in this current and present life of mine is myself. That is all. I've reached a point where I could care less about your words, thoughts, intentions, or desires. Because sir, you know, just like I know, Karma, is a bitch. Life knew just what she was doing when she made Karma, sexually speaking, a cold blooded fucking woman! And I already know, your name, is indeed on it.


To you, you walked away with nothing. To you, I forced you to begin all over again. To you, I have everything, and was inconvenienced by none. If you say so. But the last time I checked: that large, lavish apartment has been traded in for a twin sized bed while I solely am still paying for that large, lavish apartment that you too resided in. You remember that apartment right? The same one you laid your head at when the night sky took over. The same one where I scrounged and struggled for months to make all ends meet while your sad attempts to get on your feet didn't quite come through. Yet, I would have lost it all if it weren't you. Are you sure about this? Or is this just what you irresponsibly spill into the streets and atop of the ears of whomever will listen to make yourself look good? How about no comment? Or, I'd rather not speak on it. How about "I fucked up. But I have to move on". Any of these would work magically for me because then the hard work I did put in and the dedication I did exude would not be trampled on by your selfish, inconsiderate, lonely ass words on the simple fact that you've grown bitter.


You hold no power over me or my successes. Your presence has no place in my future regardless of how hard you attempt to ease your way in. You words mean nothing regardless of how hatefully you spew them all in the name of hatred and anger. You, are no longer a factor in anything I do.


But go ahead and carry on. Because while you harbor these ill-gotten feelings that really should be geared towards yourself, I pay you no mind. I fight daily to regain the peace of mind that rightfully belongs to me. But do understand, this peace, was never in your jurisdiction. This peace, is brand new and refreshing; it has no imprint of days spent with you. And yes, I fight daily to leave you further in the past than you were yesterday. I, will and can be everything you claim me to be because you, my former beau, are no longer a factor. I will be all the fat bitches I've ever been to you because you, have no stake to profit off of when it comes to me.


So Sir, enjoy the words you regurgitate today, for they may be the words you eat tomorrow.




Sincerely,
never looking back.

Chrisette Michele

Goodbye Game

on the fence

Mistakes are expected in life on the simple fact that we're human. And depending on how we're hardwired to function, others mistakes are sufficient enough; but often, we have to make our own. This is expected. Whether you were made by a man and woman because of a night of heavy, hot, and sweaty lovemaking, or due to doctors initializing your creation in a petri dish - we came from a woman's womb and she birthed us one way or another. So, we're supposed to make mistakes, have slip ups, do some things the wrong way to discover the right way.

But there comes a point and place in life when these mistakes become foolish and most times, selfish decisions that we think for one reason or another, will never catch up to us. Yet, when they do, we become defensive and don't know how to deal.

We cause pain to those who we know, without a shadow of doubt or an inkling of reservation, love us to their core. We do to them what we know we ought not to. What we know, quite possibly that if and when these selfish decisions we call mistakes reach the shorelines of their existence, they may not return as the individual we've always known them to be. Yet, we still decide to slip up.

"Mistakes" are preventable. Because they are decisions made by adults who have enough cognizance to know the difference between right and wrong, have just as much ability to walk away as they do to engage in such decisions.

But, consequences are a part of this human life too. So if and when that person who loves you to their core builds up enough power and strength to leave well enough alone, and decide for themselves that they deserve more and better, this is a consequence to your mistakes. And you can't be upset. Nor angry. Nor frustrated. Unless, it is with yourself.

This is no on the fence issue. This is no maybe or what if issue. This is about life and about when the people who we trust to do us right, doesn't do so. When the person who is done wrong, eventually has no choice but to move on, or drown in their own misery for staying.

the fuck you blog piece

You know when you've reached your point of no return? 

When you've spread yourself so thin that even butter on hot toast is thicker than what you have left? 

When you're all cried out and over it all?

When the next breathe is an apprehensive next breathe because you don't know what bullshit may come along between then, now and later?

Well, I guess this blog is dedicated to you.

To you and all of the bullshit that came along with my breathes of fresh air that were polluted and tainted by lies, deception and betrayal. 

To you and the support that wasn't garnered when well, it should have been readily available. 

To you and your absenteeism. 

To you and your selfishness and insecurities. 

To you and your inability to understand my hurt, my pain, or my frustration.

To you and thinking that on my next breathe, all would be fine. That we'd kiss and make up.

What a tangle web we weave when we try to deceive. 

Don't you agree?

JANET JACKSON

Son of a Gun

In Dedication to All of Your Sauciness

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::::::::::::::DEAR SELF::::::::::::::

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I raise this imaginary glass to you because yes, you are the shit. Regardless if anyone says it to you, or even if they don't. You know, and you have the right to stare at yourself in any mirror that offers you a reflection of the true you, so that you can deem it necessary if need be that "yes, I am the shiz-nit."


Yes girl, we've said it hundreds, if not thousands of times before: you know you did the best, was the best, and gave your best. And lets not forget, you forfeited us so that he could co-exist with you without feeling as though he'd lost any bit of his masculinity. But yet, our femininity, our woman-ness, didn't matter? Bits and pieces of you died so that he could live. Yet, after you weathered all storms, monsoons, tornados, hurricanes, tsunami's, and blizzards that came swerving into your  personal space, you still had the strength to resuscitate yourself, so that you could keep it moving.


In spite of him, and in spite of what wars were waged against your heart's desire, your strength continues to amaze me. Your perseverance, and ability to let go and live, leaves me speechless. I can't be jealous of myself, but I damn sure can admire myself.


You know, there aren't many like you walking this Earth anymore. Endangered species if I may. You are preyed on by the wild and ravaged, but prayed for and protected by the best.  And yet, you continuously revamp, update, change, alter, grow - become someone new, whether by choice or by force. And to do it so gracefully and without anger, scorn, or bitterness is one of your greatest assets.


So as you waltz bravely and beautifully into a new chapter, a new abyss, domain, a new corridor of your life, I lift this fictitious glass in rejoicement and sincere love to the person that you are today and the person you're becoming. Your load may be heavy and it may not go where and how you desire it to, just recall, you are the shit!




cc: You

{#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

K'La
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.

{#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"

Rihanna
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