Mental Oasis. It was like falling in love for the very first time. (You have no idea how ironic this statement is.)
I established the Oasis on November 4, 2004. How amazingly life can change! If you would have told me that less than a year later, I'd be a stranger in a strange land, I would have chuckled. I thought I would never escape New Orleans. That's partially why I created the blog. An escape; a sounding board; a means to show people that I'm pretty damned clever.
It was my intent to hold off until the fourth anniversary to close out this blog, but what better time like the present for a new start. So, welcome to Wreckless Endangerment. Enjoy the ride!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Inquiry
Pop quiz hot shots!What sexified blogger got her cardio on tonight?!
I'm telling you man, I was in the ZONE! The zone dammit!
Twelve pounds by my birthday!
"Oooh Child. . .
...things are gonna get easier..."
It's NEVER as bad as you think. Not ever. And even if it is, it could always be worse. I was watching one of those "Animals Gone Bananas" shows (I can never remember the names, but you know the ones that like to show antelope kicking the crap out of people and whatnot), and they showed this guy who worked in some sort of animal refuge/zoo/something else, in charge of taking care of elephants. Dude was either kneeling or sitting behind one of the elephants. I'm fairly certain he was scooping crap. However, since his job didn't suck enough, the elephant decided at that moment to sit down and the dude's head was stuck in the elephant's rectum. Talk about a Pyrrhic victory. He lived, but when his number is finally up and his life flashes before his eyes, elephant ass is going to be right up there with holding his firstborn and giving his daughter away at her wedding.
So my friends, no matter how rough you think it is. No matter how shitty your situation may seem, chances are, you were never an elephant's colonscope.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
"That same [chick] you gave nothin, I made something doin" (c) Jay-Z
It's September 14. Do you know where your life is?
I've been in Maryland almost three years. There have been times when I questioned whether or not it's purpose had run its course. Each time, my eyes would be opened to a new purpose; something left for me to complete. Even when I would go through a difficult time, Something would happen, and I would make it through. That doesn't seem to be the case these days.
In my heart, I would rather let me kids stay here, live here. My son has already picked out his college. They go to a great school and there are a lot of benefits that come with living in Mo County. Unfortunately, the economy is fucking me UP. My departing the DMV is becoming less and less of a casual discussion, and more of a distinct possibility.
I can't, in good conscience, stay here and wait for life to become terrible. When i came here, I was so encouraged and supported. it's hard to stay in a place when you're not only struggling, but feeling alienated. I try to internalize, rather than verbalize. That's why I was a bit freaked out when Ladybug inquired about how difficult things were for me. Friday night, I asked what made her ask that question. I wanted to be sure that I wasn't throwing a pity party and she could see. She then said, "Well, it's two of us and one of you. Two to one isn't easy right?"
I've always felt that struggling is what keeps me sane and alive. Though it's not healthy, as much as I crave peace, I tend to see it as the calm before the storm. it's a twisted form of self sabotage. The rub is, I am often correct. That being said, the adrenaline rush that comes with embarking upon a new adventure for the purpose of improving our lives is exhilarating. I relish being able to look at my life and see where I have been blessed with the means and the strength to always improve things for myself, Finge and Ladybug.
I do realize, that having only one job is not going to cut it though. My writing has to work for me. I've also had a dream for eons to run my own staffing agency. These things will only remain dreams if I don't act on them. The vision, in honesty, is MUCH bigger than that, but that's the gist. My problem is, I don't have the foggiest idea of where to start.
Those that know me, however, don't worry, and rightfully so. I embody everything that is the comeback kid. I can't accept credit. My life has been blessed beyond measure; it's what made my East Coast adventure a possibility. But what I know is that I have been blessed because I put forth the effort and respect the hustle.
"You need to dance and dance to make the rain come down..."
I've been in Maryland almost three years. There have been times when I questioned whether or not it's purpose had run its course. Each time, my eyes would be opened to a new purpose; something left for me to complete. Even when I would go through a difficult time, Something would happen, and I would make it through. That doesn't seem to be the case these days.
In my heart, I would rather let me kids stay here, live here. My son has already picked out his college. They go to a great school and there are a lot of benefits that come with living in Mo County. Unfortunately, the economy is fucking me UP. My departing the DMV is becoming less and less of a casual discussion, and more of a distinct possibility.
I can't, in good conscience, stay here and wait for life to become terrible. When i came here, I was so encouraged and supported. it's hard to stay in a place when you're not only struggling, but feeling alienated. I try to internalize, rather than verbalize. That's why I was a bit freaked out when Ladybug inquired about how difficult things were for me. Friday night, I asked what made her ask that question. I wanted to be sure that I wasn't throwing a pity party and she could see. She then said, "Well, it's two of us and one of you. Two to one isn't easy right?"
I've always felt that struggling is what keeps me sane and alive. Though it's not healthy, as much as I crave peace, I tend to see it as the calm before the storm. it's a twisted form of self sabotage. The rub is, I am often correct. That being said, the adrenaline rush that comes with embarking upon a new adventure for the purpose of improving our lives is exhilarating. I relish being able to look at my life and see where I have been blessed with the means and the strength to always improve things for myself, Finge and Ladybug.
I do realize, that having only one job is not going to cut it though. My writing has to work for me. I've also had a dream for eons to run my own staffing agency. These things will only remain dreams if I don't act on them. The vision, in honesty, is MUCH bigger than that, but that's the gist. My problem is, I don't have the foggiest idea of where to start.
Those that know me, however, don't worry, and rightfully so. I embody everything that is the comeback kid. I can't accept credit. My life has been blessed beyond measure; it's what made my East Coast adventure a possibility. But what I know is that I have been blessed because I put forth the effort and respect the hustle.
"You need to dance and dance to make the rain come down..."
Trouble Sleeping
Nancy Grace - have we figured out why she exists? Seriously. Even her delivery seems like schtick. What's more disturbing is, who watches this? Is she like porn? A multibillion dollar industry that NO one used to admit to owning. As an aside, I can say that porn isn't making money off ME. I've purchased it...downloaded porn is SO much better. I'm not sure if it's the added thrill of getting it for free, but boy oh boy.
The fact that the double cheeseburger is a dollar is absolutely criminal. No joke, they want poor, and shit, middle income people, to DIE. Just DIE. Lettuce and half an ounce of chicken is $5.00. A third of a pound of beef and cheese is a dollar. Off balance much. I won't even get into the testicles and livers and shit that I believe they use to make sausage. As stressful as it is though, I promise that eating healthy now will save you in the long run. I am by no means the picture of health, but I'm sure I would be a thousand times worse had my parents not instilled in me the importance of a solid diet.
Bruce Jenner? What happened to you? I mean, you were an Olympian and...nevermind. Just...*shudder*.
Speaking of blasts from the past, since I am awake at 4 am, I'm watching "Sanford and Son." I forgot Jane Hathaway from The Beverly HIllbillies was on it. Why do I care? It's four in the morning...don't sweat me.
The fact that the double cheeseburger is a dollar is absolutely criminal. No joke, they want poor, and shit, middle income people, to DIE. Just DIE. Lettuce and half an ounce of chicken is $5.00. A third of a pound of beef and cheese is a dollar. Off balance much. I won't even get into the testicles and livers and shit that I believe they use to make sausage. As stressful as it is though, I promise that eating healthy now will save you in the long run. I am by no means the picture of health, but I'm sure I would be a thousand times worse had my parents not instilled in me the importance of a solid diet.
Bruce Jenner? What happened to you? I mean, you were an Olympian and...nevermind. Just...*shudder*.
Speaking of blasts from the past, since I am awake at 4 am, I'm watching "Sanford and Son." I forgot Jane Hathaway from The Beverly HIllbillies was on it. Why do I care? It's four in the morning...don't sweat me.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Sheesh
If idle hands are the devil's workshop, then my hands are bound for glory. I've been up since about 5:30, and besides the time it took to type this morning's blog and check a few random emails, I've been grinding.
I did some laundry, dealt with more wise beyond their years conversations with my little geniuses, completely cleaned my car and cleaned up around the crib. You would think that all that sweating would have resurrected my buckshots, but nooooooo. I'm still looking like Elvis around the bang area. Yes...I effing have BANGS! Some ole bullshit.
Speaking of Elvis, in addition to being a poet, Ladybug has developed a comic strip entitled "Evil Elvis." When I inquired about the premise, I was told, "He does all the things Elvis wouldn't do. You know...the singer." What the hell does she know about Elvis?! I'm TELLING you, this kid has been here before. I'm sure people don't believe half of what I tell them about my kids.
Finge plans on playing the saxophone. Let's recap: my son is tall, dark, handsome and intelligent. Am I sanctioning an activity that will certainly have him backstroking in women? Is it right for me to raise this generation's Shadow Henderson? I'm still trying to work through this.
I also, for the first time ever, sent my son in the store by himself. It was borne of necessity. I needed a can of soup, and after laundry and car washing in the blazing heat, not only did I reek, but the car wash detergent stained my paints. I was on pins and needles the entire time. However, as I recall, I was going in the store alone at his age as well.
Now, I'm sure my Uptown Ambassador may take exception for borrowing his moniker in today's theme music (because "every good superhero has his own theme music" and make no mistake, I AM a muthafuckin superhero), I'm sure he can't possibly begrudge my paying homage to the illustrious Dennis Coles.
I did some laundry, dealt with more wise beyond their years conversations with my little geniuses, completely cleaned my car and cleaned up around the crib. You would think that all that sweating would have resurrected my buckshots, but nooooooo. I'm still looking like Elvis around the bang area. Yes...I effing have BANGS! Some ole bullshit.
Speaking of Elvis, in addition to being a poet, Ladybug has developed a comic strip entitled "Evil Elvis." When I inquired about the premise, I was told, "He does all the things Elvis wouldn't do. You know...the singer." What the hell does she know about Elvis?! I'm TELLING you, this kid has been here before. I'm sure people don't believe half of what I tell them about my kids.
Finge plans on playing the saxophone. Let's recap: my son is tall, dark, handsome and intelligent. Am I sanctioning an activity that will certainly have him backstroking in women? Is it right for me to raise this generation's Shadow Henderson? I'm still trying to work through this.
I also, for the first time ever, sent my son in the store by himself. It was borne of necessity. I needed a can of soup, and after laundry and car washing in the blazing heat, not only did I reek, but the car wash detergent stained my paints. I was on pins and needles the entire time. However, as I recall, I was going in the store alone at his age as well.
Now, I'm sure my Uptown Ambassador may take exception for borrowing his moniker in today's theme music (because "every good superhero has his own theme music" and make no mistake, I AM a muthafuckin superhero), I'm sure he can't possibly begrudge my paying homage to the illustrious Dennis Coles.
House, Home, Mojo and Other Stuff
Finge turns ten this year. My grocery bill has doubled from what it was last year. What is scary to me is that he's eating more and getting skinnier. He has an uncle that is 6'4 give or take. Jesus, take the wheel. In addition to that, Ladybug has decided to actually have a growth spurt. I am so not ready for puberty.
I go to the salon once a year. There is something to be said for not using heat products on hair. No blow drying. Nothing. During this year's visit, there was a miscommunication, and my hair was flat ironed. No bigs. It was a sort of fun change. HOWEVER, my hair has not fully changed back. My fro is the essence of my mojo. Remember the Living Single episode when Regine got the breast reduction? that's how I feel right now. Now I just look like I'm letting my SOOOOOOOOOUUUULLLLL GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! It's sort of curly spirally. I take things like that as a sign for necessary change.
My writing has been progressing quite well. I'm so thankful for that. It has really helped me refocus. Good stuff.
I need to get Bubble detailed and get the oil changed. Having a car is like having a third kid. My kids want a dog. That's a fourth. Does it ever end?
Sunday at noon BABY! The Saints meet the Foreskins!!!! Reggie better have his act together!! I got a whole dollar riding on this one!
Leaving Maryland is still heavy on my mind. Still haven't decided 100%, but I officially have no family on the East Coast. My cousin in Florida is heading west to New Mexico. I like the autonomy that being away from home affords me. Sometimes though, I wanna go where everybody knows my name...I would at least like to be able to drive there periodically.
I go to the salon once a year. There is something to be said for not using heat products on hair. No blow drying. Nothing. During this year's visit, there was a miscommunication, and my hair was flat ironed. No bigs. It was a sort of fun change. HOWEVER, my hair has not fully changed back. My fro is the essence of my mojo. Remember the Living Single episode when Regine got the breast reduction? that's how I feel right now. Now I just look like I'm letting my SOOOOOOOOOUUUULLLLL GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! It's sort of curly spirally. I take things like that as a sign for necessary change.
My writing has been progressing quite well. I'm so thankful for that. It has really helped me refocus. Good stuff.
I need to get Bubble detailed and get the oil changed. Having a car is like having a third kid. My kids want a dog. That's a fourth. Does it ever end?
Sunday at noon BABY! The Saints meet the Foreskins!!!! Reggie better have his act together!! I got a whole dollar riding on this one!
Leaving Maryland is still heavy on my mind. Still haven't decided 100%, but I officially have no family on the East Coast. My cousin in Florida is heading west to New Mexico. I like the autonomy that being away from home affords me. Sometimes though, I wanna go where everybody knows my name...I would at least like to be able to drive there periodically.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Look out Nikki GiovanniI
People know some things
People know some stuff
But my mom knows enough.
- Ladybug (c) 2008
Yes ladies and gentlemen, she IS the bomb!
People know some stuff
But my mom knows enough.
- Ladybug (c) 2008
Yes ladies and gentlemen, she IS the bomb!
So not trying to deal with this
So last night, we were watching TV, and the girl child says, "well, when you take a pregnancy test, how do you know how many lines are right?" Uh...what the fuck? After answering her question (I'm a firm believer on if you can ask the question, you can receive the answer), I decided that I had enough for the day. I went to bed. (I've been sleeping much better lately.)
This morning, we were going about our routine of getting ready, and she said, "Is it hard, Mommy?" I offhandedly asked what. The news was on and we were watching a report about the Capoiera Festival. "Having two kids and having to do everything by yourself."
Now, she's ALWAYS been a heavy chick. She favors biographies and books about state history over fiction. She prefers Animal Planet over Cartoon Network and she's first rate student. But still, I am SO not ready.
This morning, we were going about our routine of getting ready, and she said, "Is it hard, Mommy?" I offhandedly asked what. The news was on and we were watching a report about the Capoiera Festival. "Having two kids and having to do everything by yourself."
Now, she's ALWAYS been a heavy chick. She favors biographies and books about state history over fiction. She prefers Animal Planet over Cartoon Network and she's first rate student. But still, I am SO not ready.
Holy Posting Batman!
I have been so hyper lately. Things have been tough, but I KNOW I'm on the verge of something great. I'm looking for it. I'm working on it. Last night, I was in the midst of cleaning (my new Thursday tradition - who wants to spend their entire weekend cleaning up?) and I was overcome with the feeling that my breakthrough was so close, I could taste it. It tastes orange sherbet, and I LOOOOOOOOVES me some orange sherbet. I should be getting ready for the day, so enough fucking around.
P.S. - I'm keeping all coastal Texas residents in my prayers.
P.S. - I'm keeping all coastal Texas residents in my prayers.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
"Oh my god! All this for me?! I must be on my job!"
When I was younger, my parents taught me the reward for hard work: more hard work. It goes without saying, that made no sense to my seven-year-old self. Wasn't the reward for hard work an extra 30 minutes of "Asteroids?" Dave, my district supervisor on my first job outside of the home (I have been generating income since I was six), had the saying, "If you have time to lean, you have time to clean." More recently, while in conference with the Harlemite Bon Vivant, he waxed philosophical about sharks known as "obligate ram ventilators," that are unable to survive if they are not in constant motion.
The past couple of days, I've made sure to have my scheduled packed with, well, stuff. Guess what? Day two of singing in the shower. My dance card is full until mid-October. In addition to that, if all goes according to plan, Spring Break is going to be off the chain. My high school reunion is in May. I, of course, plan on being there and FABULOUS! I also have fam having a destination wedding next July, so a trip to Cancun is a distinct probability.
This have been tough, but what a difference a day makes...or rather, a couple of days, but let's not split hairs!
P.S. Guess who lost two pounds? That's right, bitches!
The past couple of days, I've made sure to have my scheduled packed with, well, stuff. Guess what? Day two of singing in the shower. My dance card is full until mid-October. In addition to that, if all goes according to plan, Spring Break is going to be off the chain. My high school reunion is in May. I, of course, plan on being there and FABULOUS! I also have fam having a destination wedding next July, so a trip to Cancun is a distinct probability.
This have been tough, but what a difference a day makes...or rather, a couple of days, but let's not split hairs!
P.S. Guess who lost two pounds? That's right, bitches!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Sometimes you wanna. . .
Ok, Cliff Notes version of what's been going on with me:
I've had the blues. The frustrating part is that I haven't been able to pinpoint the precise reason why. I could nitpick at little things here and there and call them part of the problem, but I'm not sure they make a dent in the real reason.
Homesickness, however, is a mutha. My mother lived all over the country between the ages of 18 - 25. She said that after visits home, she would spend about three weeks wanting to sit in a corner with her legs folded over her shoulders. This feeling is partially attributable to the fact that I had not seen my family in over two years. That being said, I have felt a tug, not to return to New Orleans, but to be within driving distance of home. I haven't really connected with Maryland. It's not that I have not had good times here, and I've met nice people. Yet that has not stopped me from feeling like an island.
I'm giving it six months. I plan to give living here my all. If after that time, I still feel detatched, then I'll be searching for a place to live, closer to home.
One of my goals (since I'm damn near in my MID-30s - wtf) is to be more thoughtful rather than reactionary. Right now I feel like I wanna...
I've had the blues. The frustrating part is that I haven't been able to pinpoint the precise reason why. I could nitpick at little things here and there and call them part of the problem, but I'm not sure they make a dent in the real reason.
Homesickness, however, is a mutha. My mother lived all over the country between the ages of 18 - 25. She said that after visits home, she would spend about three weeks wanting to sit in a corner with her legs folded over her shoulders. This feeling is partially attributable to the fact that I had not seen my family in over two years. That being said, I have felt a tug, not to return to New Orleans, but to be within driving distance of home. I haven't really connected with Maryland. It's not that I have not had good times here, and I've met nice people. Yet that has not stopped me from feeling like an island.
I'm giving it six months. I plan to give living here my all. If after that time, I still feel detatched, then I'll be searching for a place to live, closer to home.
One of my goals (since I'm damn near in my MID-30s - wtf) is to be more thoughtful rather than reactionary. Right now I feel like I wanna...
Hyundai with the butterfly doors?!
I friggin LOVE this song yo!
P.S. - David, you can wear all the Gucci vests you want. WE know you're not that far removed from sandals and capris...
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Story of a Champion
His helmet was stifling, it narrowed his vision. And he must see far. His shield was heavy. It threw him off balance. And his target is far away.- Dilios "300"
I came to the realization that my failures - my shortcomings - are burdensome. Not only can I not glimpse light at the end of the tunnel, but I find myself struggling to make out my own feet in the darkness. In my heart, I know this is temporary. That knowledge just seems to be buried so deeply beneath a whole bunch of other caca.
Small disappointments can be distractions from the big picture, and when you look up, not only are you unaware of where you are, but you feel as though you can't even make it back to square one (abandoning all hopes of picking up where you left off).
My life is Sparta. Every step must be measured; every move, disciplined. So I don't have time to think hopelessly. I won't have time to pause. I won't have time to lament. Truth be told, I won't have time to cry. Because every second of my life from this point forward has to go as follows: stick, move, grind, repeat. It has to be that way until I get there. Presently, I don't know where there is, so that simply means that I have to keep moving until I figure it out.
Everytime someone took a shot at my title, I stood strong. There's no need to change that now.
Watch me.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Reflection
The other day, I was talking to a brother about the rift between black men and women. My point was not to participate in the latest man-woman "Who Shot John?" episode. I wanted to learn what is it that black women do to break brothers down. And yes sisters, we can break a brother down.
His primary beef was the number of black women that claim to love black men and have respect for them; yet as soon as they get a man, they can't fix their mouths fast enough to tear him down. As a woman, I wanted to defend. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. Then I remembered a family member. I'll call her "Elle." The only time she discusses her husband is to talk about how stupid he is, how unsatisfied he leaves her, and how she works him essentially to death, and that's why she stays with him. I lost count of how many times they have separated, however, I do remember her going to retrieve him from his new woman's house, only to dish out more of the same.
He also touched on our buying the media's portrayal of black men. They're either dogs, gay, or bumbling morons - lovable, but bumbling and moronic nonetheless. I feel as though I need not mention the not so subtle nudges away from dating brothers altogether. How many movies romanticize relationships between white men and black women. After the obligatory obstacle that is the sole racist family member, they go on to live happily ever after. The lack of realism is astounding. For starters, when you wade through the pile of interracial relationships, black female/white male is close to the bottom of the barrel. I'm willing to wager that if you get down to the brass tacks of white males that are not impoverished or "PWT" as it were, I'll be the percentage is even smaller. So sisters, we really need to stop banking on the white Prince Charming.
I was fortunate enough to have a mother that kept me away from negative influences to the extent that she could. Additionally, she taught me how important it was that I respected black men. Eventually, my own experiences caught up with me. I became so used to being hurt and disrespected, that I started out on the defensive. I was tough on men that I attempted to date; insufferable to those I didn't. My friend mentioned the need to deal with each other on a human level. I thought about how many times we as women bristled at a man who only had use for women in bed. What can be said about a woman who only shows respect to men with whom she may be involved? Respect has to start prior to the relationship. After ti starts, it's too late. I had spent so much time with the wrong type of man, I became terrified of all men. I even avoided men that I thought would want to pursue a serious relationship, because I couldn't bear the thought of becoming attached to someone, then having it end.
Once I was told by someone that I cared deeply about, that maybe I should be with someone more suited to my relationship style; someone who could love me for the way I'm used to being loved. I realized the way I was used to being "loved" was non-existent. I crafted this amalgamation of my outside view of other people's semi-functioning relationships, combined that with a couple of "black-love" movies, and created for myself quite the cluster-fuck. I knew how to be disappointed; I knew how to have fun and bounce when it wasn't fun anymore; I knew how to be single. I didn't know how to be loved, so it went without saying that I didn't know how to give love properly. What is unfortunate is that I had a hand in messing up what could have been a good thing.
My friend said that we lie to ourselves. we say we love and respect black men, but our actions say otherwise. If I spend half of my relationship on pause wondering when (not if) I'm going to be hurt, am I really respecting my man? I can't say that I have the answers. I can't say that I'll be perfect. But what I can do is pledge to be better.
His primary beef was the number of black women that claim to love black men and have respect for them; yet as soon as they get a man, they can't fix their mouths fast enough to tear him down. As a woman, I wanted to defend. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. Then I remembered a family member. I'll call her "Elle." The only time she discusses her husband is to talk about how stupid he is, how unsatisfied he leaves her, and how she works him essentially to death, and that's why she stays with him. I lost count of how many times they have separated, however, I do remember her going to retrieve him from his new woman's house, only to dish out more of the same.
He also touched on our buying the media's portrayal of black men. They're either dogs, gay, or bumbling morons - lovable, but bumbling and moronic nonetheless. I feel as though I need not mention the not so subtle nudges away from dating brothers altogether. How many movies romanticize relationships between white men and black women. After the obligatory obstacle that is the sole racist family member, they go on to live happily ever after. The lack of realism is astounding. For starters, when you wade through the pile of interracial relationships, black female/white male is close to the bottom of the barrel. I'm willing to wager that if you get down to the brass tacks of white males that are not impoverished or "PWT" as it were, I'll be the percentage is even smaller. So sisters, we really need to stop banking on the white Prince Charming.
I was fortunate enough to have a mother that kept me away from negative influences to the extent that she could. Additionally, she taught me how important it was that I respected black men. Eventually, my own experiences caught up with me. I became so used to being hurt and disrespected, that I started out on the defensive. I was tough on men that I attempted to date; insufferable to those I didn't. My friend mentioned the need to deal with each other on a human level. I thought about how many times we as women bristled at a man who only had use for women in bed. What can be said about a woman who only shows respect to men with whom she may be involved? Respect has to start prior to the relationship. After ti starts, it's too late. I had spent so much time with the wrong type of man, I became terrified of all men. I even avoided men that I thought would want to pursue a serious relationship, because I couldn't bear the thought of becoming attached to someone, then having it end.
Once I was told by someone that I cared deeply about, that maybe I should be with someone more suited to my relationship style; someone who could love me for the way I'm used to being loved. I realized the way I was used to being "loved" was non-existent. I crafted this amalgamation of my outside view of other people's semi-functioning relationships, combined that with a couple of "black-love" movies, and created for myself quite the cluster-fuck. I knew how to be disappointed; I knew how to have fun and bounce when it wasn't fun anymore; I knew how to be single. I didn't know how to be loved, so it went without saying that I didn't know how to give love properly. What is unfortunate is that I had a hand in messing up what could have been a good thing.
My friend said that we lie to ourselves. we say we love and respect black men, but our actions say otherwise. If I spend half of my relationship on pause wondering when (not if) I'm going to be hurt, am I really respecting my man? I can't say that I have the answers. I can't say that I'll be perfect. But what I can do is pledge to be better.
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