Man Of My Dreams.

That's the picture of me that people will associate with my poetry.

I've got amazing eyes.

Right now I'm sitting here eating strawberry ice cream and listening to music.

LastFM is my shit.

I should be cleaning my room or writing my paper, but it's like I've been using these last few weeks to make up for a semester's worth of self-neglect. It's about me as much as I can make it right now.

I live my life for appearance's sake. I'm also fine with that. The important thing is that I'm fine with the appearance itself. I'd rather not exert my energy to create an image that I don't even value.

But now, I am shaping myself apart from my roots. Every image I play into is one that I must love for my new singular self.

So about the title of this blog...

Meshell Ndegeocello has a new album out. The World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams.

Powerful phrase, I say.

Sounds like something I've said a lot. "I'm totally fine with being my own boyfriend if niggas don't wanna act right."

And I am.

I discovered that I am
a beautiful woman
who can't find a man
to match her wits.
So I learned to match my own.
Laugh at my own jokes
and love my own body.
It's much more pleasurable
to know what I likes
by myself
and understand what I need
to live
and to function
alone
than to be dependent
and catering to whims
snottin' and cryin' and shit
over some...cat
whose sex
was wack
ANYWAY.
Singularity
has surely
shown me
that to be two
I must first become one.
But I think I like one better.
One does what she wants
all the time.
And she does what I ask her to
on the first try.
She doesn't hog the covers
or snore
or sweat when she's on top.
As a matter of fact,
One may be
the man of my dreams.

And besides all that, One likes my bald head and tells me I'm beautiful every day.
Truest words ever spoken: "You gon' have to build you a man from the ground up girl."

So I did.

And I Said...

I didn't want to write poetry tonight.

But that phrase "Shit on my mind..."

Let's see where it takes us, shall we?

Baby I've got
some shit on my mind.
I'm aloof
far off
not talking much.
Because I've got shit on my mind.
Not a reflection on you
of you
of us.
Just me.
I remember saying that
none of this was personal but
it is.
Just not for you.
So chill.
I've just got some shit on my mind.

Hm...that was ok.

Sestina?

Perhaps.

Shit. Mind. You. Can. Would. Talk.

I'm about to be sick of your shit.
I swear to God I'm on the path to losing my mind.
Too early in the morning for this nonsense. Can
you just chill? I know we need to talk
and I would
if it wasn't for you

and the way you're always talking
increasing amounts of shit.
Maybe instead of me yelling at you
we could get somewhere. Anywhere would
be better than here. Get back to me when you can.
I've got some shit on my mind.

I can't take
no more of this arguing shit.
We're supposed to be adults but we can't
even sit down together. You said you would
try to fix this mess but your
schedule does not permit. But I don't mind.

Just know though, that I've got other shit
going on. My world cannot
afford to revolve around what could
have been the one real. But I know you don't mind.
Heard about you taking
that yellow bitch to lunch. She can have you.

No, really. I don't mind.
Even take your time.
I've already had my talk
with you. You can
get your shit
on Thursday. I won't
be there but...
my new man will.

*pats self on back*

Interesting concept. Needs work.

But then again...who doesn't?

Me with...

shit on my mind.












Right now, I've got Jill Scott in my ears. I'm channeling her hard.

Singing and
thinking.

Writing.

I've got a whole lot of shit on my mind.

Grad school. Decided to push it back just one semester.

Was that shit smart?

I mean...in the grand scheme of things
it could only be better to wait right?
Wait until my test scores are better.
Until I feel more confident.
Until I really become the artist I say I am.
Right?

Yeah, I think so.

I thought I was in love again. Finally.

Key word: thought.

Or maybe I knew, and that's where the fear set in.

I knew all too well the feelings of anticipation and longing that he set into motion. I'm familiar with how it feels to be infatuated and to know it full well, but to love and raise it until it's become some full on crazy shit.

Conversely, I knew with the same wonderful familiarity the way it hurts when my infatuation is not his love. My infatuation is mine, and his like is his. Each doesn't know of the other's existence. Ultimately, the like goes away and the infatuation is revealed for what it is: smoke and what? Mirrors.

With the knowledge of the rapture that I caught myself in came the heaviest feeling of dread. Because my head, who thinks much more rationally than my heart, would not let me go. She only let me swim if I would wear the life preserver and the big orange vest full of foam padding to keep me afloat.

Thank God for her, and the life preservers.

For experience, wisdom, hurt, pain, aches, laughter, perception, love, infatuation, crushes, lies and truths and the shades of both.

I didn't feel like writing poetry tonight. I felt like writing prose.

Is that prose?

Yeah, I think so.





And all this happened in the span of...5 days.

I Wrote A Sestina.

I didn't want blue font today.

Anyway, I wrote a sestina. I love it.
It gave me yet another outlet for these bottled up feelings.
I could be completely honest with myself and with him about the whole thing, and when he asks me I can act like I don't know what he's talking about. It could have been anyone, right?
Yup.
Could have been anyone.
And with that, I give you "A Chance With Love."

Every day I wake up and I want
to be in love.
I’ve spent so many years harboring hurt
though, that I’m deathly afraid to take this chance.
I find myself tearing
up at the realization of this nagging necessity.

The last time I thought I found love
it turned out to be the part of me that’s the neediest
rearing her ugly head. She was hurt
too when my life of wants
went unanswered. It was only chance
that she made me shed a tear.

After all these years, I’ve let the pain
create for me a personality. I would love
to be wanted.
But chances
taken in my past life made the idea of need
a very subjective thing.

You say you need
me but I don’t think I want
to be needed right now. My heart
can’t take any more chances.
Please don’t take it personal, love.
It’s not personal. I’m just fresh out of tears.

I’ve been torn
in these directions for a while. My fear of love
stems from my fear of drowning and the chance
that you won’t catch me if I fall. I just want
to be the one you need
but I know I’m inept at this and I couldn’t stand for you to be hurt.

Maybe we should just take this chance
together. We could dry each others’ tears
and put band-aids where it hurts.
If I’m to be honest with myself I must admit that I need
to be loved
by you. But my stubborn mind doesn’t want to.

For this chance at love,
I would sacrifice my wants for what I know I need.
Maybe even let you heal me where it hurts, and fix the tears in my heart.

Just some shit...

At the moment I feel like "I got looooooove...on my miiiiind..."

Every morning I wake up expecting someone else to be there.

All I can think about is what he feels like and if it's as good as I think it should be.

These feelings are the reason I avoided taking these steps for so long.

The energy it takes is insane.

I might even feel better if I wasn't wondering but had concrete answers instead.

Every time I talk to him I want to say "Hey baby. How was your day? I missed you today."

But I don't feel released to say it.

It's still much to soon.

I always want to just say "I love you!"

I wish I could tell him.

I want him to know that he's my one thing and I want to be his.

When everything else is falling apart I need him to be the one thing I cleave to, and I just wish that I had the strength and time and energy to be that thing for him.

Damn.

This is cliche as fuck.

Blog Wars.

I was gonna say some shit, but it would have been SO self-centered.

Things are kind of insane at the moment.

My big mouth ass can't find the right words to convey what I want to say.

I feel like I'm getting the same speech again though.

You're not any of those cats, so you say.

Then you follow that with "those cats" type behavior.

How do you expect me to take that shit?

I can't take it for shit but face value, and face value is bull shit.

Granted, you aren't the one that created face value so maybe I should give you some credit but like... niggas have bad credit around here.

Up until now you haven't done shit to earn more.

It's been a lot of talk and shit, and I gave credence to that, but what the fuck was I supposed to say?

I knew from the beginning though, that we are too strong for one another.

We can't both be hellbent on our own correctness, can we?

The shit becomes explosive.

Too much energy here.

Too much for both of us.

Two people that know how great we are individually.

We know what we want, and we have very high expectations of a mate.

It forces us to perform at this new altitude together, but it's wonderful up there.

Something's gotta give.

Not enough oxygen there, regardless of the beauty.

I guess I'll just go upstairs and make out with my new stilettos.

Green patent leather w/ a natural heel cup and a wood grain heel.

My grown girl shoes.

That's half the reason I spend all my money on material shit.

Clothes and shoes never hurt you, and if they do it's your own fault.

3 months later...

Sitting here thinking...
3 months away from my blog that I said
I was going to do every day.
Here I am growing and changing and not leaving a long enough trail behind me.

I just wrote a personal poem
for the first time since September.

School has had me so consumed that I haven't been able to get away into my words like I used to. But here I am now.

I just cried again.
Too many emotions running rampant at once.
But I don't know what to do with them.
I never get to really talk to anyone, and when I do I'm on the verge of tears already.
I have let life make me crazy.
At least I've let it try.
And now
it thinks it can.

I have a taste for some dressing and cranberry sauce.
I miss home.
My grown ass is homesick.

I miss myself.
Haven't really seen her around in a while.
She knows she's loved though.
I tell her every day when I
go to class and
read shit and
study and

deprive her of sleep for the betterment of our future.

What else is there?

How can one be so
deathly afraid of the one thing
she craves?
I recoil at the thought of
your touch
because I know it will reach
clear deep down into my
soul where
I don't even let myself go too often.
I hide from it and
pretend it's not what it is but in
reality I just
want to be in love and
love on you and
be loved on and then
live in that space
that I've been hiding from
with you and
show you everything that she's been keeping
in there.
And I want to tell you
all these things
every time I hear your voice.
I want to tell you
I love you.

Ha.

You wanna know if I love you?

Yeah I do.

Ha.

That's funny though.

You never said it, but I know you wanna know.

You drop some big ass hints.

If you ever ask me, I'm going to say no.

How Do I Tell You...

How do I tell you that I love you?

When you said you needed something my first thought was "Say the word and you've got it."

I'd do anything in the world for you, but I can't tell you.

I think about you every time the wind blows.

I worry about you.

Always want to call and make sure you're ok.

Can't stand to see you not feeling right and me not being able to help you.

I can't believe that I want to be there for you like that.

Lie up under you and love on you all night long.

I want to cover your skin with my kisses and soothe your restless soul with my tears and massage away the stresses of your life with my hands.

But I can't really tell you that.

Because if I did I'd fall in love for real.

Enraged.

I can't drive when I'm angry.

I get the urge to drive over medians.

I go blind...get tunnel vision.

I do it anyway, but I don't even feel safe with myself.

Think I have an anger problem?

Maybe.

I mean...

it's not all the time and

it's not every time I get mad but...

it's dangerous.



Seems to me that
my anger has learned to control me.
I used to be the stronger person but lately
the stresses of life have rendered me useless
against this force.
Takes all my energy
to keep me sober
and alive
and not screaming.
Trying to fight the same passions that fuel love
with nothing more than
the inability to move
has rendered me helpless
almost hopeless
dependent on
the little bit of sense
I have left
to keep me alive
my
anger has learned to control me
and I don't think I'll fight anymore.

I'm Proud of Myself.

I'm proud of myself.

I went to get dessert with a friend of mine after work, and nothing happened.

While that's not 100% on me, I did a damn good job of keeping my pants on and my hands to myself.

When I left there, I went to see an old fuddy of mine.

He's gained a few pounds and he looks so damn sexy.

He touched me and tickled me and had I stayed there he would have fucked me and I'd be asleep in his bed rather than writing this blog.

However, I knew how he was making me feel so I had to take my exit.

But damn...he just looks so good!

I have to pat myself on the back for having willpower for once.

Go me and shit.

So I was sitting here and shit...

That's my thinking face.


Yes.

I fucking said it.

Nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger.

Niggerish, niggardly (which is, in fact, a word), niggaholic.

Anyway, I was thinkin' about the word "nigger".

So the fuck what?

However, this is not the point.

I'm mad and shit.

Who the fuck told these fools out here that "nigger" means ignorant?

I bothered to look the shit up online, and three different sites all related it back to its original and derogatory roots in the Black and racist communities.

That shit does not now, nor has it ever, meant "ignorant".

It means Black.

Plain and fuckin' simple.

What concerns me about this, however, is that the connotation of the word is changing and people are forgetting what they're truly saying.

No way in hell is calling someone your "nigga" calling them a friend or comrade.

I wish people would just take a minute to remember what they're saying, and just think before they speak.

How much sense does it make for someone to say "Well I can say that shit because it means he's my friend, but if you say it I'll bust you in the mouth."

If white people said that about any word in the English language we'd be hollering language based racism or some other dumb ass shit.

I just read an article about the word in relation to that Michael Richards incident. (Here it is, as a matter of fact.)

The author contends that no one should use it, and everyone needs to think hard before they speak.

I agree.

Stop saying that shit, but never forget it.

To forget it is to invite slavery back and let them take our rights to voting and land.

That shit was only 40 years ago, by the way.

Frame it and make a relic of it. Put it up in a museum for all to see.

Inside a slave ship.

And around it place shackles and chains and whips and cotton.

















Put that shit up next to it too.

People Keep Asking Me...

People keep asking me why I chose to become celibate.
No one can understand how somebody can just give up sex and still be alive I guess.
But I haven't been able to really talk about it to anyone.
They ask, and I answer. But not honestly.
So what better than to tell a bunch of strangers who probably will never read this?

I did it because I wasn't getting any in the first place.

And in my time off, I thought. I thought a lot.

I thought about the relationship I had just come out of that was fueled by about 98% pure lust and sexual energy.

We would lock eyes and lock hands...lock lips and arms and bodies...and before I knew it I was on orgasm number 5 and cloud 9 and losing my soul bit by bit to someone that wouldn't even store it properly.

And I couldn't get him to pick up the phone all day some days.

Couldn't even get him to keep a date.

But he could call when he needed some, and my silly perceptive ass was happy to oblige.

And when that bull shit ended and I escaped back to Oz to live my life alone again, the calls stopped coming and I stopped trying to make them and I realized that I just didn't need it.

Sex brings an insane amount of stress to any relationship.

Friends that fuck are often not friends anymore.

And sex can cause two people that otherwise love each other to stop talking and never want to speak again over a misunderstanding when the understanding that they had, which was greater, may have been that which changed the world.

I didn't have time for that stress.

And as I thought, I remembered that my body is a temple. By doing what I was doing I was desecrating my temple on more than one level.

I disrespected my body and I was giving away my mind, and one day I woke up and I was tired of that. I wanted my SELF back, and I wanted my control back.

And now I've got it, and I'm happy.

If I never meet another man that can deal with having a girlfriend that won't fuck him, I'll be my own damn girlfriend.

:)

Music To Blog By

I tried to add this on the side w/ the pix, but it was too wide.

Just music I love.

I'm SOOOO fucking tired.

I'm tired as fuck.

And I'm irritated because I let myself get this way.

I knew what I was doing, and I saw the shit coming.

But I went with it anyway.

Note to self: next time you're so fuckin' unsure, don't jump in head first.

I keep saying I'm so through with love.

I need to just chill.

Wait for God to send my man and shit.

But then something gets dangled in front of me and before I can go forward prayerfully like I know I should, I'm like "Well maybe I'll just test the waters on this one."

And then the shit is scalding fucking hot.

You would think I'd learn.

I'm making excuses for my behavior and seeing signs. Calling little things signs and paying them too much attention.

Shit I was so excited to just have a saved man in my life I forgot his ass was human. Didn't think he would be in the same place I am.

But then he was.

And I was fucked, again.

I'm not in the mood.

For anything.

I'm stressed and I'm tired.

I just had those thoughts of death again.

Just to sleep and not wake up.

I don't feel like crying right now.

Don't have time for it.

Maybe I'll feel better in the morning.

Maybe it's all in my head.

Maybe I'm not stressed or depressed.

I'm just dramatic.

Call me the drama queen.

Life is Beautiful.

So here I am again.

I've been gone for a while, but I've been busy.

God has been good to me.

So in my last blog, I told you about that one job right?

I got another one too.

They essentially just handed it to me, lol.

So now when school starts in the fall I'll have 2 jobs.

I just left my advisor's office a minute ago, and found out that I'm graduating in one year.

Two more semesters and I'll have a degree.

I mean...that's pretty much it, lol.

School's getting hectic because of the time of year that it is, but other than that I'm good.

I've got this real good feeling right now.

Like being high without the smoke.

Called home, and my dad said we'll get my summer school paid for some kind of way which means one or two less classes in the spring of 08.

It's a nice day, and my little brother doesn't have any homework.

Remember how good those days felt?

:)

It's 2:29 AM.

That was me at a party a few weeks ago.
I was really feelin' my outfit, so I needed everyone to know how fly I was.

Today I found out that I got a job in this program I was really hoping for.

It was a process to get in, but I'm here now and I plan to rock the shit out of this job.

I'm the only Black girl there.

I'm sleepy.

My face feels oily.

I feel a spontaneous poem forming.

Yeah...it stems from my heartburn.

My heart...burns.
Part of it is pizza.
The other part is lost love and
leftover lust that has yet to be properly treated.
I find my mind
After hours of searching
I find her wandering
Through my futures and my memories
And there you are.
She's with you.
In your arms and remembering
How that one night felt.
After sweat and passion and fighting back
the urge to whisper in your ear
Oh...my...God...
I love you...
That one night after sweating and passion and orgasmic memorizations of your presence
Those moments when
You held me and kissed me and just barely touched me and
Showed me
love
And the days yet to come
Where you and I begin the revolution
Side by side and
Locked in an embrace of love and passion and a coup d'etat to rock humanity
Back to sanity.
But alas, it is all in my mind
As I find her wandering
Through my futures and my memories
With pieces of my present in her hand.

And now, I am sad.

That girl in the picture (red shirt) is one of my good friends up here in Oshkosh, where I go to school.

Well...the one in the pink was too, but she quit last spring. This year has been strange w/o her.

Anyway...

We live in the same building, two doors away from each other.

She's my only friend up here at the moment, and now I'm without her.

She wants me to keep her friends warm for her until she comes back in the fall, but this shit is currently depressing. Especially since I love her friends so much. It's gonna be pretty hard to hang out w/ them without her.

Oh my.

I guess I'm done lamenting now.

I'll be back later to whine some more though.

Hell to the Naw.

So...

I called home today and shit.

It's dawned on me that there are some SUPER dizzy bitches in the world.

Like...

What the fuck.

Out of control.

15 years old and pregnant and shit.

I can't even verbalize right now.

Way too much going on.

In the morning...

In the morning...

Oh.

And I'm mad my best friend said this guy I have a) known all my life and
b) slept with in the past has slept with some UGLY ass hairy
lookin' Dominican broad.

That is some SHIT.

It's Been Awhile...

I haven't blogged in several months.
I know, I'm slipping.
But I'm back now so...yaaay!

I've shaved my head since the last time I was here, and actually that's about all
that has changed in my life. The semesters changed and the weather
got bad but...nothing else interesting has happened.

Men still don't know how to act and I still limit my company with other people so...yeah.

Oh!
Here's an interesting tidbit!
Today in class, I actually didn't fall asleep and shit.
And my professor actually commented on it.
He said "No dozing (insert government name here)!"
And I said, "I know! I didn't! But...I also had a huge energy drink and a nap today."
Then he said, "Well, if you didn't contribute so positively I'd be a lot harsher on you, but you always have positive input so it's OK."
I laughed, but in general it made me feel good today.

Yay me!

Maybe tomorrow will be mas interesante.