Christmas Eve...

My dad bought my mother a really great gift called The Roumba. It's basically a flat circular device that vacuums your floors for you. (Hottest thing I've ever seen) My mom couldn't wait until Christmas so we decided to test out our new gadget. We watch it push its bristles around my parents bedroom and digest dust and debris. One by one we leave and return to where the hens cluck in the kitchen. My dad decided to stay upstairs and watch the Roumba, just to see if it lives up to all the hype. (Basically trying to find any reason he might have to return it)

20 Minutes passed and we are still chatting in our coop, and then all of a sudden my whole world stopped moving for a brief moment. BAH BOOM BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We all hear the thud through the ceiling, and without a word uttered we sprint up the stairs to where my father was. Titiah, then mom, myself, and then Toya. Never have I seen my mother move with such agility in my life.

We reach the double doors of the master bedroom and I don't even want to peer in, because I don't know what I'll see. I put molasses in my stride and let the future doctor pass, and enter the room before me. I turn my head into the room and see my father spread out on the floor with his head leaned against the door. My hands turn to fists and I press them so firmly against my cheeks. I furrow my brow as I quickly look over my father's motionless body, with the Roumba laying on his legs.

"Greg? Greg?" my mom calls out as Titiah grabs a pillow from the bed. Toya is on the floor trying to wake my dad, and I have cement in my slippers. Immobilized. He wakes, and then I breathe. First thing he says "Hey, Where's my buddy? Where the Roumba?" They let out a light hearted half of a chuckle, and make him as comfortable as possible on the floor. I, on the other hand let out no sign of emotion at his first words. I'm still in shock, and I can feel the tears welling up from my stomach. It was that deep. I slowly make my way to the very edge of the bed, and can't even look him in the eyes because I know the tears will stream. No one else is crying, so man up Deidre.

I did what I could to keep the tears back, but there was one unruly salt water drop that snuck away from the herd. One lonely tear was all I allowed myself at that moment, and I wiped it swiftly from my cheek with my pointer finger. He was fine a little while later, and everyone relaxed. But I smiled a fake smile and laughed fake laughter, for the rest of the day. I just couldn't stop thinking that this could have been the day I lost my father. He knew I was uneasy, after that incident and he just looked at me, brushed my cheek and said, "I'm okay Bubbie".

Reflection

1:47am

I'm up right now fighting killer cramps and waiting for my tea to cool to a sip-able temperature. My head is beating throbs of pain like a heart, and all I want is for the pain to subside long enough for me to drift to sleep. I'll just wait the 13 minutes until the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air comes on. I can recite those episodes by memory. Sleep is near. But of course, like all other nights when I can't sleep, my mental gears turn.

It being so close to the new year, I can't help but reflect on the past year. This has been a crazy year for me, and I'm more than happy that it's over. Usually the year flies by without enough time to reminisce, but this year has moved at a slugs pace and carried me over every bump along the way. While it has been an awful year of hurt and disappointment, it has been a tremendous year of growth. It's a shame that It had to take so much for me to see my potential, but some people just need a swift kick in the behind. And that's what this year did. Kicked my butt until I finally GOT IT!

I lost friends. I acted before thinking. I gossiped. I lied. I was lied to. I got angry... a lot. I stopped praying. Mom got laid off. Dad didn't get any better. Money was tight. I stopped loving, for fear it would backfire again. I sold myself short. I did not love myself enough. I had to leave school, and I stained my credibility with people I love... to say the least.

But my skin got a little tougher, and I thank God for the trials. I lived, I learned, and I'm ready to start next year with this new found knowledge.

I await my fate for 2008.

Guilty pleasure...

I throw myself on the mercy of the Blog community... I have been neglecting my readers, and I'm sorry. It's not because I've been so distracted and dedicated to my book. I wish it was that. But the reason I haven't written anything, is because I've been preoccupied. I made the mistake of borrowing my sister's Sex and the City DVD's...The whole collection!!! And I've been watching that on the majority of my nights, when I should be writing. I don't know what it is about that show, but I think it has me in a trance. I can watch 6 full episodes and feel like its only been an hour. But little do I know it's 3 in the morning. Granted its full of graphic sex scenes, vulgar language (thanks to Samantha), and more drinking than these stank rappers yacht parties. But there are elements of the show that I find appealing. Besides all of the HILARIOUS embarrassing sexual experiences they all have had, and the random WEIRD men that haunt women in NYC, It's their friendship that makes me slightly jealous.

They all live in close enough proximity that they can have breakfast as often as possible. They sit and talk about ANYTHING and EVERYTHING over breakfast. They are so open with each other, because they know that what is said at the table stays at the table. They tell each other about their problems, and inquire for friendly advice. They fight, and make up all in the same episode. And they aren't afraid to tell each other when they are MESSING UP! Point blank they are there for each other in EVERY sense of the word. I hope I can be a friend like that, and have friends like that in my life.

But for someone like myself who is single, just like the ladies on Sex and the City, it helps me to evaluate what type of man I'm really looking for, and who to steer clear of. Of Course the show isn't my guideline for love, but some of those questions Carrie Bradshaw conjures, really make me think. What are we fighting for after we break up with someone? and what are all of the male and female insecurities in a relationships. I love it all.

I'm pretty sure the only way I can balance my guilty pleasure and my writing, Is if I write about my guilty pleasure. I've decided my next few blog will be my own views to some of my favorite relationship questions that Carrie researches about in here column. Should be interesting. Well I think it's about time to go change discs. Season 4 here I come...

Sincerely,
No sex in the burbs

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I don't know what I’m doing here. Every time I say I won't accept anymore invitations I always seem to find myself sitting on a couch wondering how I got there. My girls and I usually go just to observe everyone else, and to have something to talk about the next day. But strangely enough I was here alone, with not one of my girls to giggle and gossip with. The entire house was almost pitch black. If it wasn't for the faint light coming from the DJ equipment I wouldn't be able to see my hand in front of my face. Every now and then I could feel a quick draft from the door opening and a gust of wind tickling my legs. The room was getting packed and I wish I was back in my dorm room watching a movie, and eating pizza.

The main event took place in the basement, where couches were covered with grinding bodies, and sweet laden woman lap dancing. The walls were even beginning to sweat and I could feel the drip forming on my brow. So much for my makeup.

It was an obstacle trying to get through the labyrinth of people and make my way to the kitchen. Somehow I made it. The pungency of body odor and warm spilled liquor in the carpet combined and made my stomach flip, and made me swallow hard. A girl sat on the counter top being “macked” to by a senior ball player. Her legs practically gapping open in her black mini skirt, letting him know she's interested. These dance parties usually turned into a mating frenzy like salmon during their last chance to spawn.

The mood in the house is strange. Everyone is on a high like hippies in the 1960's. The volume of the music makes it hard to even think, let alone have ration and logic. I guess I should relax and try to have a good time.

“What's up ma?” said Edgar. I didn’t even see him approach me. He was good friend of mine who I met my freshman year in college. He was a great looking guy with a body of a God. He played basketball like no one I've ever met in person. He always had a way of making me blush when he went out of his way to say hello. We never had any intimate moments, but we always liked making little flirtatious jokes with one another.

“Hey Ed, what's good. You enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah Jackie this party is live. Where's your girl Melinda? You know this party ain't a party without her. I still remember the time when she danced on that coffee table at Maya's house warming party. Boy was she pissed when the leg just broke from right under the thing.” Ed said taking another sip of his bottle.

I wish Melinda was here. She was my best friend and always the life of every party. I didn't matter if it was a bar mitzvah or a baby shower. Where ever she was it turned into the Melinda show. That's why I loved her. We balanced each other out. I could never be that outgoing and fearless.

“Want one?” Ed gestured his Corona in my direction.

I was never much of a liquor drinker, and I know I shouldn't be drinking liquor at this party by myself. It would be different if I had one of my girls here so we could keep an eye on each other. Ed could read my discomfort with his question.

“Um...? I contemplated

“Nah it's cool. Don't even sweat it Jackie, I didn't want to be impolite and not offer you something to drink. We have water, juice, and soda in the refrigerator. Can I get you anything else?

I really wanted to keep a level head tonight, but something kept telling me to live a little and have some fun tonight. Ed just stared at me while I ping ponged the idea of what I should do. Battling with decisions in crunch time always left me making the wrong choice. If I don't have enough time for good judgment and reason to set in, I usually flunk the test.

“You know what Ed, mix me up something special” I tried to deliver my line cool as a cucumber.

A cheesy grin spread across Edgar's face. He must have seen right through my “too cool” act. I watched him as he made his way to a make shift bartending station, with lemon wedges in one red plastic cup, and limes in another. I had no clue what he was doing over there, but I made sure I watched him closely. Little bit of this, and a little bit of that, mixed with some juice and my cocktail was ready. He handed it to me and I peered down into the mixture like it was poison.

“Let me know if it's too strong”

I took a sip of the concoction and could feel my organs melting away from the inside out. He was watching me so closely while I sipped, I could just smirk an uncomfortably smirk and sip again. It tasted like tropical nail polish remover, with a twist of lemon. But I kept drinking it, until I saw the bottom of the cup. I couldn't take another one of Ed's citrus cyanides, so I quickly decline Ed's offer of a refill. I decided Smirnoff was a better choice. That tasted like sprite to me. My buzz increased after the third bottle so I thought it best to calm down with my liquor intake.

The loud thump of the music pulled my limbs in rhythmic directions like a marionette doll. I chose to seclude myself from the crowd and found my own corner to dance in. I liked it better there. No one was staring at me, or accidentally rubbing on inappropriate parts of my body. I was really dancing like no one was watching. My hips swayed like the ocean and it made me feel sexy. I didn't need anyone to tell me I was, because I knew it.

It had to be 2am, and my little piece of the room was no longer private. As more people drifted in, my space was getting tighter and tighter. Just when I was really getting a workout, these people had to ruin it for me. I was used to dancing alone, because big girls like me don't usually get that much love on the dance floor. But every now and then a brave man who thinks he can handle it attempts to break me off.

That's when I saw Mr. Brave.

He came into my vision wearing a green and yellow button up shirt, black dickies, and a pair of the freshest black timberland boots I've ever seen. He was alright looking, but what caught my eye was the Jamaican flag hanging out of his pocket. If he's Jamaican that means he must be able to dance. A white towel he used to wipe his glistening brow hung off of his shoulder. As he made his way through the crowd I knew he was coming to dance with me. I just kept my rhythm and avoided eye contact.

His almond skin glowed as small beads of sweat clustered on his forehead. I had a real weakness for tall men. I'm 5'9” and it's always been a struggle finding a man tall enough for me, luckily Mr. Brave was just right. I would guess he was at least 6'3” with a football player’s frame, and the sexiest walk I’ve ever seen. And just like he was walking on a cloud he drifted right to me. As much as I tried to ignore him, his presence was as strong as his Curve cologne. He stepped in front of me and his aroma intoxicated me all over again. At that moment, the strength in my knees floated through the vents.

He didn't ask, and I didn’t look up. We just synchronized our movements to the reggae rhythm like it was second nature. I could have dance all night with Mr. Brave and Wayne Wonder on the stereo. He wasn’t vulgar, or trying to bend me over to the floor. He was sweet as sugar.

I tried to take a glance back at him and see his face in its entire splendor, but I couldn’t do it without looking over eager. I twist my head quickly back to the front.

“You alright Ma?” His deep voice dripped like warm molasses. My knees almost gave out from under me, but his strong hands were holding me up.

I nodded yes, to let him know I was more than alright.

“Ladies and gentlemen” the DJ announced over the microphone. “We ‘bout to slow things down a little bit, and play some old jams. So grab that special someone and hit the dance floor.”

The announcement made me nervous like I was in a thong bikini contest. I only had one choice. I had to turn around and finally stare my Mr. Brave in his eyes. I mustered enough courage and did a smooth about-face to witness the prize I was about to claim. But instead of almond skin and a perfect smile, I saw his wide back and the Yankees emblem on his backwards cap. As I turned to face Mr. Brave, he turned to notice a different half naked girl who quickly wrapped her manicured hands around his neck.

To my horror I was in the center of a slow grinding coupled cluster. I was the only solo girl on the floor. Sigh…great just my luck.

“Excuse me. Oh sorry. Excuse me” I thought skinny thoughts as I tried to make a dignified exit. But everyone who saw me knew that I was leaving the dance floor because I didn’t have a special someone.

It was true. I didn’t.

How Will I Be Remembered?

My sister is in med school and she is doing her geriatric rotations. Her days mostly consist of home visits where she gives the elderly people they regular check ups, and tries to make them feel as comfortable as possible. For one of her classes she has to do an 10 minute presentation on death. It can be anything she wants so she thought to get her families perspective on death. She called us and asked us all the same questions. How do you feel about death?

I don't know if this is normal or not but I think about death all the time. I've experienced death and funerals at a very young age when my grandmother died. Since that day it seemed like I was always at someone's funeral. In high school death has taken away a handful of my friends. Car accidents, suicide, and even random heart failure. Since those days death has been on my mind quite often.

Any person who has been close to me has had their own mock funeral in my mind. I've seen them in the casket, and mourning friends and family dressed in black. The thoughts don't last very long, but the sadness lingers. I might even shed a few tears. Why do I do this? I don't really know. I think I have had so many friends and family die unexpectedly that I try to prepare myself before they suddenly die. So I won't be a wreck, because I've already seen it in my head.

What's interesting is how my family views death. My mom and dad just want to make sure their kids are taken care, and their money divided amongst us, and they don't want us to struggle because of their death. My oldest sister says before she dies she wants her money, and her career. They are more practical. But its weird that none of that even enters my mind. I don't care about my career of money. I am more concerned with how I will be remembered, and if I righted all of my wrongs. I want to know I loved with my whole heart, and that I sincerely forgave. I want to be known for my contagious laughter, and encouraging advice. I figure death is a part of life and I shouldn't let it take such precedence in my thoughts, because its a crazy thing that can't be controlled or predicted. But while I'm here on this earth I will live my life to the fullest, and be known for being someone I can be proud of.

Some things never change....

Things you can count on when taking a road trip with the Etheridge Family:

1. Minimum bathroom breaks.

2. Stop at a hotel? Heck no!! We drive straight to our destination, or we sleep curled up in our car.

3. Grandma can always be counted on for random conversation, and often times talking to herself. You might even be woken up at 3am to the sound of hymns. She reads almost every sign that passes by, and will always ask "where are we now" every half hour.

4. Mom is a side seat driver who pushes her imaginary break pedal hard enough to touch the pavement. She flinches at every truck, care, or motorcycle that passes in front, behind, or beside us. NEVER sleeps no matter what time it is or whose driving.

5. Dad is a machine when is comes to driving. He can drive straight through the night, even if he's tired as a dog. Every now and then he'll drift onto the shoulder and wake himself up with that annoying sound the ridges on the road make. Earth Wind and Fire, and Stevie wonder keep him company for hours while he hits outrageous high notes, imitates the band, and whistles the tunes. My dad's snack of choice is anything salty, sweet, crunchy, cheesy, or artificially flavored to any degree. But always needs water to drink.

6. Some how fried chicken always sneaks its way into our car....weird.

7. Mom can't drive in the middle of the night without something hot to drink, and a snack. Only on long trips do I think my mom is addicted to coffee. She can only go the long haul if she snacks her way from state to state.

8. I fall asleep before we hit the highway.

9. My dad argues with my mom because she keeps side seat driving. My mom fusses with my grandmother because she won't stop talking. Grandma gets mad because dad has his music too loud. I beg my mother to go to sleep and take a nap. Dad says we pee too much. And we usually have to tell Grandma we're still in Virginia about 3 times. And the chicken never lasts very long.

Gotta love it. I know I do.

Home Sweet Home....

I am back in my home state of Massachusetts, and I am surprisingly really happy to be here. Usually I dread coming home to my small suburban town because I always run into those old high school "friends" who you haven't seen in like 5 or 6 years. And it will just so happen to be the day I go out to the store in a weird outfit, or just look like a hot mess that I see someone I know. It's like a premature class reunion minus the brand new dress I pretend I've had for years, and the bad DJ. Especially if it's one of those high school acquaintances who you knew, but weren't really that close with. Have to give the big fake "OH HEY!!! HOW ARE YOU??" The simple question dripping with nonchalant curiosity. Deep down inside we don't REALLY want to know how each other is doing, But we go through a nonverbal evaluation of who is more successful, or doing bigger things then the other person. The whole visit home is usually drama filled and annoying.
But there was something different about this Thanksgiving visit. None of that even entered my mind. I had a maturity that couldn't really care less about who I saw in the streets, or ran into at Chilli's. My one priority was my family. I felt like I hadn't seen my sisters in years. An overwhelming feeling of excitement stayed with me the whole 20+ hour drive. Like a kid on Christmas eve. Never in my life have I been more thankful for my family. This past year has taught me that when the chips are down one thing that I could really count on was my family. Before this new change in my life my family knew nothing about the things that were going on in my life. But I am again THANKFUL that I have a family that can see me through my rough spots, not judge me and appreciate my honesty. My sisters tell me what I need to hear even if it stings a little, my parents support my life decisions. And my grandmother is steadfast in her prayers for me. So this season, I am thankful for my family, because without them, I don't know where I would be.

Those were the days...

So last night after the evening service at my church, there was a basketball game at the academy across the street. My dad wanted to check it out, so we go in, have a seat and we're waiting for the game to start. First it's a girls game, and it's taking FOREVER to start because they were waiting on the refs to show up. So I do what I do best and start observing my surroundings and look at the kids who are entering the gymnasium. Back in my day, lil high school boys were scared to wear certain things for fear of being called gay, or just plain uncool. Certain colors and hues were designated male and female. But never in my life have I seen such a starburst of colors in a one place in my life. Boys with bright yellow forces, with matching belt, and hat. Lime greens and pinks dapping each other up in the middle of the court like AKA's at a step show. Orange jackets and purple shoes. Cartoon characters run rampant on jackets and down pant legs. But as if its not bad enough that these boys dress like they belong in the lollipop guild, it gets worse.

And here is where the comedy really comes into full effect. All of these boys, who are trying to reconnect with they childhood have gone a step further than sporting bugs bunny on their jean pockets. They proudly walking in bright as all heck with equally bright baby bags on one shoulder, and baby carries in the other hand. WHAT?? Oh my mercy. I'm not even trying to exaggerate this, but I saw at least four young boys with baby bags and infants. They were feeding, changing, burping, and rocking all while handshaking their boys, and hugging the pretty girls. I really didn't want to jump to conclusions, because maybe they are just really loving siblings taking good care of their baby sister/brother. But luckily I had the pleasure of the chatterbox giggle sisters sitting behind me. " Oh girl look at Dre with his baby girl. It's crazy how he's a daddy now. He's really had to grow up so fast." and " See how big Chris son is now. Wow. Seems like he was just born yesterday."

So I realize now I've been out of high school for a minute now. Not because my butt is no long equipped for extended bleacher sitting. Because back in my day when a guy got a girl pregnant
he either denied it with everything he had, or let the girl handle it, and took care of his responsibility by making is weekly home visits. But I see the trend has changed in that these little boys make children and show their manhood by actually taking care of them. Who knew! Well at least I know this. When they both go to sears to take their 8x10's they will look so cute in their matching looney toons jackets.

Forgiveness

Does anyone remember a shooting that happened about a year ago that involved a man killing some children at an Amish school in Pennsylvania? A man came into the small school house and held a dozen students hostage and killed 5. He then killed himself and left a suicide note for his wife to read. When something like this happens the victims relatives, give angry press interviews praying hell on the criminal, and states start to consider tighter gun laws. But here is the reaction of the mothers and others who were connected to the killings that happened that awful day:

"As they struggle with the slayings of five of their children in a one-room schoolhouse, the Amish in this Lancaster County village are turning the other cheek, urging forgiveness of the killer and quietly accepting what comes their way as God's will."

"The hurt is very great,... "But they don't balance the hurt with hate."

"In the aftermath of Monday's violence, the Amish are looking inward, relying on themselves and their faith, just as they have for centuries. They hold themselves apart from the modern world, and have as little to do with civil authorities as possible. "

I read this and I was amazed! A pastor at my church mentioned this incident on a sermon he was preaching about forgiveness. Could I or anyone of you be able to forgive a man who shot your child, or sibliing, or even your parents? I battle with forgiveness over gossiping "friends" or mistreatment from my opposite gender. Have mercy on my soul. Anyone who has done me wrong, Over time I have forgiven them.That's just in my nature.But it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. I am just learning that we should pray for the ones who hurt us, and lift the situation to God. The drama is not really with me and that person. It's that never ending battle between good and evil for my happiness or my self destruction. Me hating is letting Satan win. We wrestle not against flesh and blood. Give it to God to handle because I know if I had my way I would cut them out of my life and never be concerned with their existence again. But thats not how God wants us to be. After reading this article, I look at the grudges I hold, and find them to be quite petty and insignificant. Is it all really worth it? I don't think so.We could be unforgiving and be bound by the shackles of hatred.Or we could realize that the same chains we bind ourselves with, we also have the keys for. I choose freedom.

Go for the GOLD...

The battle of the bulge is still in full effect. So right by my house there is a Gold's gym, and I always pass it without giving a second thought. SO one day I decide, let me go inside and check out their prices and see how many perfect bodies I see. Much to my delight the cardio equipment was occupied with elderly woman who remained at a constant leisure walking pace. Upstairs there were a few muscle bound men grunting at the lifting of 100's of pounds, but for the most part there were plenty of equally out of shape people working their lil chubby hearts out. I breathed a sigh of relief. I signed up for a package that included 3 free sessions with a personal trainer (VERY EXCITING!) and the gym is open 24 hours so I can go anytime I want. I was proud of myself.

I was weighed, and my BMI was calculated (dreadful numbers) and I was ready to get started. My first session with my trainer was great. We just went over cardio machines, showed how they worked, and then we sent upstairs and did some weight training for lower body. Not bad at all. I said to myself, I can do this! But clearly she was playing games with me that first session and was taking no prisoners the second time around. This woman lost her mind. Whatever your perception of a nazi personal trainer is, thats what she turned into. Everything was different. Her hair was in a tight ponytail, not her free flowing locks I remember from the first time we met. Sweatbands on her wrists. Even her handshake was firmer. Lord help me. She was clapping at me, yelling counts, molding my body into perfect form while using the machines. Motivating and intimidating me all at the same time. I did EVERYTHING she asked, for fear she would yoke me up, and scream like a drill Sgt. Usually I wouldn't really be so scared, because I'm not very yoke-able but she meant business. Needless to say, my body is sore as alllll heck. I've actually had second thought about scratching my own head for fear it would hurt too much to stretch that far. But this is what I signed up for right? Gotta roll with the punches. I'm so serious about this. I'm down about 8lbs already and it feels good. I just have to keep it up. And I will. I'd write more, but my fingers are sore....and I have kick boxing in half hour :)

Sleep

Sleep

I fight sleep, and
sleep fights me.

My eye lids at war with
foundations of physics.
And they are losing the battle.

But gravity is no match
for my will to see a sunrise.
Hear a bird sing at dawn.
So I wait on.

But truth be told I
wait not for visions of
grandeur or sounds
of chirped melody.

My bed feels stiff like wood,
and head rests on cinder blocks.
Sheets feel like sand paper
against my skin.

The clock ticks tocks
my conscience into
a frenzied state.

What a web of thoughts
manifest and weave at 4am.
Mistakes haunt, and
decisions taunt.

What I wouldn't give
for a REM of a sweet
dream.

A single moment of peace
Away from the suffocating
imagery of decayed dwelling.

How dare these thoughts
invade my most intimate
place.

Here is MY domain, and MY
escape from the troubles
of the world.
Yet I lay mistaken.

Not even under the armor
of a blanket can I shield
my restless thoughts from
my journeyed past.

An expedition through
treacherous forests, dripping
arrows from gossip's soldiers up above.

Duck and cover turmoils bullets.
Tuck and roll past obstacles
I built on my own. Lay in the
brush while opportunity sneaks
by.

Over-stepped boundaries burn
foot bottoms, like lava rocks.
Coiled and sinking deeper
in the depressed quick sand of
my own failed ambitions.

Here I lay guarded at my post
And this is the actuality that
keeps me awake.
So I fight sleep
while reality fights me.

But eventually, when lid muscles
subside, and yawns increase. I will
drift off,
and let the real dream begin.

-Poetess

To Whom it May Concern...

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom this may concern,
Vague, for I don't know exactly
who I'm addressing.

You keep me guessing.
Speaking in dark corners,
Hidden in shadowed secrecy.

I thought to send this
anonymously. But I don't
cower as you do.

So here I am
Responding accordingly.

I don't appreciate your
fire tongue spitting
lies. Especially with me
on your mind.

Your weapons of mass
deception, fell on
deaf, and listening
ears.

Those who heard felt
better, to transfer info
like a chain letter.
So yet it continues.

So here I am
Responding accordingly.

You and your groupies hunched
in huddles like question marks,
Questioning my character?

Save the smiles for preachers
and teachers. I know your
Plan for slander.

So here I am
Responding accordingly.

To whom ever this concerns,
You can continue your campaign
of concocted distortion.
You are too insignificant
to be my concern.

-Poetess

Cherished Moments

So I'm living in Atl, and slowly learning that you gotta take the good with the bad. If I had my way I wouldn't be here right now, But this is the path God has led me to. I cherish the moments I spend with my family while I can, and I try not to take them for granted. It's the little things that bring families together, and I hold them close to me. A friend of mine was telling me how he doesn't know what he would do if either one of his parents passed away. He might not be able to function the way he used to. That really had me thinking about how short our time could be with the ones we love, and tomorrow isn't promised to anyone. And ironically enough, my mom and dad on Friday had to sit me down and talk to me about both of their wills, and plans if something should happen to them. I jokingly said, "ya'll aren't going anywhere". But I can only keep myself naive for so long.

Even my 86 year old Grandmother is precious to me. My parents lose patience with her because she repeats everything she says three or four times. And she insists on wanting to help everyone with EVERYTHING. She once offered to help bring a computer desk upstairs from the garage. She criticizes, and speaks her mind. And can't help but tell us to dress warm year round, and to stop eating meat, and always reminds us at 2pm to turn on Judge Joe Brown. But beyond that there is something special about this woman. She recites poems from when she was in elementary school, with as much conviction as Shakespeare. She knows the bible like the back of her hand. She never finished high school because of sickness, and she gained her knowledge from reading books while she was on bed rest. She can out spell most college professors, and she is the most generous person I know.

But tonight I knew there was even more to her when she cocked her head back and laughed holding her stomach at Jim Carey acting in the movie Liar Liar. This little Jamaican woman with mammy braids and a blue bathrobe couldn't stop laughing. And the funny thing is she has NO IDEA what's happening in the movie, but the sight of any funny face, or Jim falling to the floor is hilarious to her. I could have muted the TV and she would still be in stitches. So from the woman who always seems to speak ill words of worldly media, she has a soft spot for the shenanigans of Jim Carrey. Who Knew!

Cherished Moments.

So Long...

I know I haven't posted anything new in probably a good month. I hope I still have some readers left, and you all haven't moved to more consistent blogs. My hiatus from the blog scene is because I've decided to actually do something with my life. I was growing tired of sitting at home all day and feeling sorry for myself. Rejection after rejection from job after job, and I could feel my mind slowly mushing into oblivion. But in my moments of immense reflection on where I am in my life, I look at my strides along with its setbacks. I realize that I have overcome more then I give myself credit for. I've been on a crazy journey these last 23 years, and I think its time to share it. I've been talking to a publisher about putting my poetry into book form, but after much reconsideration, I've decided to started my first novel. I don't know if I can call this an autobiography, but there will definitely MANY elements that I will have grabbed from my personal experiences.
I have so much hesitation about it because there will be some elements of my life that I of course want to keep hidden, and I don't want to step on anyone's toes, but I think some people need to be encouraged by a story of triumph in spite of bad choices, insecurities, and struggles with spirituality vs. the rest of the world. It's a young woman's journey to Christ... Better yet, My Journey to Christ.

Our Love...

My feet left earth the first
time he kissed me.
My thoughts disconnected
from my reality.
And the sensation took a
run with mental agility.
I held our love with
an essential frailty
and I tucked it deep
within my hearts cavity.
Oh honey love.
Dripped sweet and thick like
the passion that dances
off of our lips.
Just when I thought love was
a cynics perfect argument.
It put selfish games away
and submitted.
As did we.
We surrendered to a devotion
sealed secure with
the unyielding lock of truth.
To a bonded allegiance guarded
by the army of commitment.
I finally gave my full amour
to a love basking in the endless
sunshine of warm perfection.
And we would stand at the pinnacle
of love's mountaintop
and risk frostbite on snow caps,
Just to reach an altitude
worthy enough to thank
God for this gift.
Adrift on love's raft
unharmed by the waves crash
or misfortune from below.
I hold on to he and he to me.
And we to the Almighty.
And God is why our Love
remains steadfast.
And He is why the burning
sands of life fall
like summer rain.
And we fill each other with
a feeling we won't explain.
because who needs explanation
for blood through veins?
or clouds filled with rain,
Wings on a plane,
Or thoughts to a brain.
He needs me,
Like I need him.
And this
simply put, is
our love.

Poetess

We all struggle

Happy Sabbath everyone!!! God is Good. T.G.I.F. I should be sleeping since its 2:32am but I wanted to share something with you all. I was reading in the bible tonight in Romans and it was talking about struggling with sin. Romans 7:14-25 basically is talking about how we know we shouldn't sin, but we still do it. We fully know the laws of God, yet we break them. When we want to do good, we don't. And when we try not to do wrong, we do it anyways. That is the confusion of a sinner. Constant battle with what we know we should do and what we're doing.


I think one point I'm trying to make is that we ALLLL have something that we are struggling with. And if you don't think you do, then I'm especially talking to you. You see there are two types of sins Closet Sins and Open sins. But EVERYONE STILL STRUGGLES WITH SOMETHING! Paul was a man of Prestige and upper standing and he still struggled. Jesus' Disciples has some major issues they had a hard time with.


But do you know how we react when we find out a sin or struggle of someone elses? When we find out someone elses weakness we naturally give a mmmm hmmm and make it our business to spread the news to whoever will listen. Imagine how different things would be if when someone reveals their transgression, you simply reply with... I feel you. How much of a relief would we be if we knew we weren't in this alone? We could confide in each other without fear, because we knew she/he felt where I was coming from.


But some of us think we have the right to turn our noses up at someone else? We think we're on this pedistal because our sins aren't as bad as someone elses. You might only curse sometimes, or drink on special occasions, Or you might just be spreading other peoples personal business. Well Guess what? When it comes to sin there is no Big, middle, and little. There is no Hierarchy or totem pole. James 2:10 says "For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in ONE point, He is guilty of ALL." So believe it or not we're all in the same boat. So before we talk badly about him , or alienate the girl who you heard did this or that with such and such, remember your struggle might not be their struggle, but YOU FEEL THEM STILL because you know what it is to struggle.


* I'm talking to myself in this blog too... Have mercy.

I got this...

So, as the struggles of life continue I do everything I can to avoid my adversary. But still this evil thing has taken away the things I love. It keeps me from enjoying what used to bring me happiness. And everytime I think I can overcome and truimph, and stick to the vows I committed myself to, I fail. I backslide. I give in. That D named enemy is upon me as I type. And its on my mind every second of the day. That opponent that is challenging me is called my DIET! LORD HAVE MERCY!!!! Maybe not everyone can relate to this blog, because ya'll are in pretty good shape. But for those readers who might have a lil too much junk in their trunks, or maybe your stomach is in need of its own zip code. Or perhaps your case is not as extreme, and you just want to be able to wear cordoroys without fear of your thighs catching fire. Whatever your situation, I feel you pain, and possibly a lil bit more (especially in my knees) lol. But seriously ya'll I am on a major diet. Calorie counting, pedometer wearing, fruit chomping, Veggie steaming diet. and its ROUGH! Breaking bad habits is not easy, and when your used to a certain way of life, its hard to do differently. But I had to realize that chips and dip at 2am isn't the best idea. And I shouldn't be sneaking downstairs like a burglar for midnight snacks. I have always been pleasantly plump, ever since I was a baby. I don't even know what it feels like to be a "normal" size for my age. Of my sisters I was the biggest baby, and from then on it was just a way of life for me. I was used to it. And I was comfortable with myself for the most part, But I was tired of being the girl with a pretty face and a body that I couldn't be equally as proud of. While I've embrace my voluptuousness I was beginning to feel awkward in my own skin. Lately, sitting in jeans became uncomfortable, and my baby toe would fall asleep every so often. And I apologize for my boldness, but I'm tired of having to wear under garment body shapers everytime I want to wear a cute dress. It's not about turning heads at this point, (even though I will be able to buy cuter clothes and shoes). It's more about freedom. Freedom from fear of arm chairs, sleeveless shirts and flights of stairs. I just want to be healthy and happy. I'm excited though. I can do this. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. So, I will let you guys know my progress and keep you filled in on my journey from *** pounds to something I can really be proud of. ( Ya'll tripping if you thought I was telling you that number. )

Her meekness...

Her age was apparent in the
meekness of her cheeks,
and in the uncharted territory
where her two legs meet.
But that number and her
body was a clear contradiction.
So when he inquired
Her hip width convinced him that
number was fiction.
And like the beginning of an addiction
his curiosity got the best of him.
His mind warned stop, while he battled
with the rest of him.
She being non the wiser, to her
he was like a big brother,
And he played the part perfect,
like her long lost father.
You see, at fourteen a young
girl with no daddy clings to
what she's never known.
A man could win her trust with
sweet talk and an ice cream cone.
It didn't take much to please
her little girl needs.
But time came for someone
to return to him the deed.
His pleasure was more
than she could supply.
But like ants on a popsicle stick
he crept up her thigh
and hand over her pink lips
before she could reply.
Ripped skirt, quivered hips,
muffled cries, tight grip.
Meekness tainted
Innocence retreat
Now hips still wide,
enough for baby's head and feet.
Her bundle of love, is her
created greatness
But how does she tell her daughter
her daddy was mommies rapist?

Poetess

More Like a Pop Quiz

I feel like I'm really being tested by God right now. Everyday I wake up with the mindset that this day is brand new. I'm not who I used to be, and I have no desire to go back there again. But every now and then it seems that as soon as Amen leaves my lips, the sincerity of what I prayed about is put to the test. More like a pop-quiz. It's always sporatic and can catch an unsuspecting person off guard. Than I have to make the conscious choice, am I really willing to make the effort to be a better person? Sometimes out of nowhere I might get a phone call , and someone tells me something that I REALLY don't want/need to hear. It might even be an arguement in the house with my parents. There's always something that has the potential to bring me down to such an angry or sad place. But the test now is can I rise above it? Sometimes I just want to say Bump this, I won't be the bigger person this time. Then juvenile mentalities and self indulged ideas come into play and try to take the place of everything I've worked so hard towards. It's a difficult thing to let go of yourself, and to be the person God really wants you to be. It's easy to lay back and snuggle in the blankets of old habits, but sooner or later you'll have to realize its time to get up and change those old sheets. So I did. It wasn't an easy task, but I take it day by day. The devil can use these little humps and manipulate them to his advantage, to make them become mountains that are bigger than the truth. So I stay prayed up, and ready. I'm at the stage now where all of my actions are very much concentrated on and intentional. I have to think about everything I say, before I say it, and choose my actions carefully. But God appreciates us being intentional because that lets him know we're thinking about him. I just can't wait till I don't even have to think about it, and it all just comes so naturally to me. Where my relationship is so tight its second nature to thank God, and praise Him, ask Him for advice, and spend time with Him like one of my friends. Because I know, if there is anything i've learned, the only person you can 100% count on, is God. And I'm learning that each day that passes.

One is the Lonliest Number....

Living in Georgia without any friends is a hard thing to come to grips with. Especially when your heart yearns so earnestly to be back where you are familiar with almost everything. I left all of my friends and practically my life to come to a foreign place without anyone. The first month or so I wasn't even worried about making new friends. I knew it would come with time, But tick tock went the months, and still nothing. I didn't want to make just any random friends, but people who have substance and a foundation in the same things I do. Where else to look besides in the church. I joined the choir, singles ministry, volunteer to help out serving at potlucks, and still I am just the new girl named D-something. Believe it or not, church folks aren't as open armed as people might think. Sure, the ushers and deacons know my face and share hugs with me every week. But the people my age already have their cliques and aren't very inviting. It's not an easy thing to just bogard my way into their scene when I'm only an extra in their production. I haven't reached leading role status, and I might be to proud to ask.

So here I am, sitting with my grandmother every week at church, staring at the walls at night because bedtime for most occupants in this house is averaging 9:30pm, and letting my memories or old friends conjur saddness. ........I miss them. Words really can't put into expression what I feel. I don't think sad or lonely would suffice. And all of my old friends are too busy with their lives to remember me. But I know they are busy with school and everything, but exactly what I was afraid of has come to pass. I just feel so out of the loop of life. I think Georgia was a bad idea. I wish I had prayed before I came here, because it might not have been the right choice. Sure it's comfy living in a big house with plenty of food, cable and anything else I could ask for. But if I had to choose between living a not so comfortable life on my own, with friends I love, or having all the luxuries in the world but feeling void of... of... of that which I can't describe. I choose option A.

I need to pray on this because I know he devil can take saddness and turn it into depression, and I don't even want to tip toe down that path. I know I'm never alone, but I still need to find my peace.

Lord, I pray for Your comfort. Amen

When He Pushed, I Pulled...

Hello?
Is anyone home?
I know I unexpectedly stopped by,
Your heart.
You thought I'd be on of those guests
that come and quickly depart.
No.
I'm not like the others.
A connection grew between
your heart and mine.
But in the past with the other guest
who pulled your heart strings
you gave them no time.
With them you pushed...
and with me you still pushed.
You pushed me away because maybe
I was getting to close,
Most would pack their knap sack
and conclude it's a wrap,
But me, I was too attached.
So when you pushed,
I pulled.
Some may say, girl you's a fool
"Never fall in love with a man
Who don't love you!"
Those words rang in left and right
ear like noontime at the cathedral.
Ding, dong, Ding, dong
What did I do...Wrong?
...............
..........Nothing!

You know what I'm tired of this
war of two hearts tugging
And I know it wasn't only physical because
we never did all that kissing and hugging.
Think outloud...
Maybe this is your excuse to keep
me right where you want me.
Or maybe you love me too much to date
me and possibly dump me.
Well whatever the case
I have to let you go because
I just can't wait.
Because while I'm sitting and sulking
You'll be out new girl on another date
And that's not my fate.
So if you ever get the courage to
Open your door and see where I'm at,
Just know that I won't be waiting on
Your very UNwelcome mat.

-Poetess

What is your face saying?

I have a real love for children and old people. Everything else in between I'll leave to the professionals. I love talking to them, observing their habits, and sometimes just stare at them. But have you ever seen those old people (I guess I should call them elderly people for sensitivity sake... OH WELL lol *sorry grandma) But ever noticed the old people who look like they have a constant frown on their faces? Even when their facial muscles are completely relaxed they look sad or angry. I saw a man in the super market one day. He was shlepping along picking up his various produce. He had to be at least 75. I was already impressed with his motor skills, and his independence, but his face was telling me a story. The lines on his face were long, deep and depressing. The corners of his mouth were battling gravity and losing the fight. He had a river of a wrinkle flowing deep from his forehead to just between is sinatra blue eyes. He just looked tired. Even in his banter with a another shopper, his smiles were forced and painful. All I could think was, Man, what kind of life has this man lived? I think the lines of our face tell a small story of our lives. A 66 years old woman with laugh lines framing her face like parenthesis' took time to laugh over the years. And the man with a wrinked forehead like ocean waves maybe spent too much time worrying. AND even young people. My mother has an inch long valley in between her eyes. Over the years i've watched it deepen and deepen. When she squints at fine print, or is cooking over hot frying oil it appears. But mostly when she's frustrated or angry. When I see it show up, I smoothe it out with the soft side of my thumb from base to tip. She realizes and opens her eyes bright like she trying to hide it. I looked in the mirror one day and was astonished to see, the same crease I tried to erase from my mothers face has jumped onto mine. I'm 23 and have spent enough time frustrated, angry, and at times scowling to have an impression form on my face. Laugh lines are not even present. (That might be because my cheeks are too chunky) But STILL! Has my life already been so hard that it's starting to take a physical toll on my body? It's crazy...But seriously, Next time you look in the mirror, think about the story your face is telling the world. Were you a worrier? or a laugher? Frustrated? or Angry..When your eating lunch alone with a frown on your face, or having distressing thought over physics. Remember you can only hide it for so long. Your story will be told one way or another.

Jazz...

There's something about the way the sound of Jazz floats through the air like a sweet scent. Sometimes it's like you hear a big band or a trumpet solo and you can see the notes in living color. A violet guitar solo, and a midnight blue base serenade, or the yellow ting of a snare rumble. Have you ever been overwhelmed with the warmth of a saxophone or felt your heart thump right along with the drum. And even without lyrics the emotion of jazz is clear to the musician. Only the composer can put a perfect title to his/her piece. Only Grover Washington could name that relaxing sound on his album Strawberry Moon, because thats what it sounded like to him. That sensation of "awww" is called inspiration.


And those songs blessed with lyrics are heart felt and pure. So relatable to its listeners. They sing of desired love, lost love, failed love, hard times, and fun times. How many ways can you talk about love? Peggy Lee describes her lover as her thrill. Dinah Washington begs her love to "Make me a present of you" "What good is a gal with a million? What good if the world calls you queen. If you dont have someone to love you, you don't have a doggone thing." Who doesn't want to be loved? Jazz embodies love in all of its facets. The good bad and ugly. The gut wrenching, and desperation of reciprocated emotion. And a Miss Etta James said it best when she declared she wants a "Sunday Kind of Love"

I want a Sunday kind of love
A love to last past Saturday night
And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight
And I want a Sunday kind of love
I want a a love that's on the square
Can't seem to find somebody
Someone to care
And I'm on a lonely road that leads to no where
I need a Sunday kind of love
I do my Sunday dreaming, Oh yea
And all my Sunday scheming
Every minute, every hour, every day
Oh I'm hoping to discover
A certain kind of lover
Who will show me the way...."

Me too....

Guilt

Happy Sabbath!!


After you've done something that you knew was wrong, has there ever been a time when you just couldn't get it off of your mind. It was like a mouse gnawing on your brain all day? Or maybe even something you've said that was hurtful to someone else, has it ever stayed on your mind for a really long time? That feeling is called guilt. We should actually rejoice in that feeling of guilt. Now im not saying that we should be glad we have something to be guilty about, but we should be happy to know that whatever we've done has made us uncomfortable. We should start to worry when we are messing up left and right an we just continue about our day like nothing has happened. That means we have become COMFORTABLE in our sinful ways. That's when the trouble starts, and the Devil rejoices, and keeps on working on us.

There used to be a time when I would frequent clubs and parties, I would even drink and smoke (I know ya'll!! I KNOW!) And when i didn't know Jesus, It was never a problem. It was second nature. Everyone else was there. All my friends came with me so it wasn't a big deal. everyone else was bumping a grinding. I would see people who come to church faithfully that were posted on the wall with they booties in the air. So What!! But as i learned more about Jesus, the more UNcomfortable I became. I wasn't so eager to go to these parties anymore. It just wasn't as fun anymore. And the guilt of what I was doing started to set in. I felt guilty because I was setting a bad example to my fellow Christians. I was the girl in the choir loft. I was the first face you saw when you came into church, and the first rear end you'd see bent over on the dance floor. Talk about a double life. Guilt ya'll! Powerful stuff. And not to toot my own horn, but I was popular. Everyone knew who i was. Active in the church, choir, head usher, sign language ...THE WORKS! But what does that do to my ministry when im singing praises to God on Saturday morning, And everyone expects to see me on Saturday night shaking ma bootay? I wouldn't believe what I was saying either! I was someone stumbling block and didn't even know it.

So After the guilt set in...God went to work on me! What an amazing God we serve! I became more and more unanxious to attend these gathering, and that was Him slowly changed the desires of my heart. I no longer had a desire to even enter the building, even to be a wall flower. He replaced the friends that used to improperly influence me with those who tried to lift me up. And those friends i still have in my life who are still partying, maybe i was meant to be a proper influence on them. God is Good. So remember next time you feel guilty about something you've done, or your lifestyle, be happy that you still have the ability to distinquish right from wrong. And realize there is still time for God to change the desires of your heart, if you allow him to. AMEN!!

The Guys...

You know sometimes i wish i was a guy. And im not saying that to get on my soapbox about the usual female argument of painful period cramps or child birth. Im talking about the different mentalities of men and women. This blog was inspired because I was priviledged enough to spend the evening with my brothers watching um...FIBA something basketball game. USA v.s. All the other teams of the world that will never beat us. And it was so much fun! Even though i didn't know all the names of all the players. and game percentages were uncharted territory for me it was still interesting. And i just sat there and observed the dynamic of the male relationship. Commonalities i noticed are loud talking, boisterous laughter, sporatic handshakes and high fives ( Not the fruity high fives) and just good old talking trash and debates. Admitting a fart is of minimal importance when any sport is on the TV. Caring about proper etiquette is thrown out the window.But still you would think that these guys had a degree in basketball-ogy, They know so much, about every person who sets foot on the court. And i love how they have the ability to play each other, and embarass one another without feelings getting hurt. And they never have to be concerned about further talking about them once they leave the room. As quickly as its said, its forgotten. Most females don't have that type of relationship. Of course I've had friends that i joke with and poke fun at, But there are some things i would never say because i know they would get offended. And Im not saying im the acception to the rule. I know i can be very sensitive....AND I HATE IT! I'm not trying to generalize about genders, but from what i've noticed is that in most cases its just so much easier for guys to eliminate drama and brush it off. They would not let any trivial matters get in the way of their fun. It's just not worth it. So when they are on their way to their designated homes,They know at the end of the game no matter if their teams won or lost, or how many times they call each other gay, they still got Love.

Oh to be Re-bourne...

Hey ya'll. Ok so I don't consider myself a movie critic by any means, But I've decided to speak on this. Early this week I saw the Bourne Ultimatum, and my boyfriend was incredible in that movie. I've always had a hidden passion for white boys, being that I basically grew up in an Abercrombie oasis. There's just something about a tight shirt wearing, ripped knee patch, ball capped white boy that is a little bit attractive. Now picture that same cute white boy, but now he's dirty and bloody and pissed off. Flying all over the world kicking butt. His piercing blue eyes burn deep while his lips tighten with ever blow delivered to his adversaries. Just GANGSTA for no good reason. Calm and Cool, but still a ticking time bomb. I don't want to ruin the movie for anyone, but my fiance was gangsta for real. From Madrid to NYC...Just angry!! And no this is not a characteristic I desire in my future mate, but there is something about an aggressive, take control kinda guy. The kinda of man whose blood pumps testosterone like nitro. I MAN'S MAN. And I can appreciate a movie that appeals to the male and female gender. And its not body appearance that does it, nor is he shirtless and flaunting perfect pectorals during the movie. Just his mannerism, the idiosyncracy of his movements, dependability in every situation. OOOOH BOYYY! If you haven't seen it...GO SEE IT! but please rent Bourne Identity and Bourne Supremacy if you haven't seen them. My husband will blow your socks off...(yes we're married!! SHEESH)

Remember the Sabbath day?

I know its been a minute since I posted anything, but I have been working a bit harder on my poems, so its taking me a bit longer. But at any rate... I was having a discussion with a very close friend of mine on the phone a couple of nights ago, and we got on the topic of religion and how keeping the Sabbath is very important. It's a commandment that is often overlooked. (For those of you who are not SDA, on Saturday is considered our Sabbath. It is a day of rest from work, and considered the Lords day that we keep holy by dedicating it to Him) SOOO my friend and I were getting into our discussing about those who make acceptions to the rule of the Sabbath. For example, those who are in the medical field who feel they are excused because they are saving lives, or doing a service to other people. But my question is... If your getting paid how much of a service is it? Then some offer the solution of: whatever money you were supposed to make that day give it to God as an offering. And although now the action can be placed in the category of a service, is that enough? I think mentality has alot to go with it too. I don't think people are working necessarily to serve and help thy neighbor, I think they are working, to keep from getting fired. Did God set up the Sabbath as a day to serve or volunteer on His day? What about the other aspects of the Sabbath? I thought the sabbath was a time to go to church, fellowship and reflect on God. I have aunt's and church members who work on Sabbath all the time, and my sister is med school, who is already experiencing the struggle. And I still don't know if giving God your paycheck for the day is right. But i do know that he bible says, If you love God, you'll keep his commandments and the 4th is very clear. And the friend I was having this conversation with said just imagine if all of the SDA's would stand up and say, keep the Sabbath holy the way we're supposed to. If the cafeteria on Andrew's campus would close down on Saturday, and not make the students work on the Sabbath. And if we would use fridays as the preparation day so we won't have to eat out on Sabbath. Imagine the impact if could have. We can't expect to be the example if we don't set the same rules for everyone. But its understandable that people don't want to lose their jobs, but God gave them that job, He can get them another...right? right!

But ya'll I really wrote about this to see what you guys think about it, because I was taught that the Sabbath is the most holy day that we must respect 100%. But things seems to be changing. I really want some feed back. I want to know what you think. Is working on the Sabbath excusable???

Where is he?

Sometimes I think I might be one of those women who will be single until I'm like 50. It's a rough time for single women, especially single black women. Believe me, im not really on the prowl for a man right now, but of course I have taking a look at the men in the area. It looks rather hopeless. I've never seen so many gold teeth in all of my life. I can't understand half of them when they speak, and they care more about pimpin' out their Caddy's and Caprices to bother putting on a clean shirt when they step outside of their doors. So, naturally I turn my sights on the men at my church. There are definetly a good grip of good looking men, but just as soon as I get my hopes up, something brings me right back down. Either a piece jewelry on his left hand, or pushing a baby stroller with his wife tagging close behind. But its always a let down when you see a tall, dark, and handsome brother, whose middle name has to be hershey... Carrying his bible, singing to all the songs. Then you see him outside the church shaking hands with his limp wrist and designer shades, while greeting all of his female friends with "Heeeeeyyyy Guurrrlll!" Oh yes Gay men are all up in the church. Ladies the stereotype is true. The downlow epidemic is a definite concern. And us ladies cannot even find refuge in the church, amongst the choir loft or praise team. Like I said earlier, its a rough time for us.


I can say this...I know it won't be easy since I finally realize the desires of my heart now. I'm not just looking for a random arms to hold me, or any sweet voice to soothe me. I won't settle for mediocrity, because I know God has a prince prepared to treat me like his princess. I really don't think I ask for much. Just a few credentials I look for.

1. First and foremost, I need a God fearing brother who Loves the Lord more than me. Involved in the church, and just a good SDA man.

*The numbers after 1 are very much interchangeable.

2. Sense of Humor is very important. I love to laugh and I want my man to be able to make me laugh. Also I want to have the type of relationship where we can poke fun at each other (in a joking manner) and just have fun.

3. Passionate...Just in general. About his family, friends, work, ambitions. I think a man who is passionate about what he does, and who he loves will be successful.

4. If we're married I like a man who knows his position in the family. He is a father figure, and just like in my family, he is the head of the household. BUT understand he doesn't abuse it.

5. Always wiling to give to others. Generosity is very much appealing.

6. Physically I'm not even trying to be picky, but I would like a man who can dress well. Not suits all day, but knows how to dress well for the occasion, and has pride in his appearance.

OK OK I've gone too far too soon. But I'm not worried. God will send Mr. Right, and not Mr. Right now. I will just keep praying for him to come when the time is right.

"Happiness is falling asleep next to you and waking up thinking I'm still in my dreams."

Today is the Day...

12:22am
I'm really emotional right now. I can feel every emotion welling in my body all at once. Today is the big day. My rebapism. I type these words through eyes filled with tears. I don't know what im feeling. Excitment, I'm anxious, and honestly a little nervous. But not the kind of nervous you might think. Like a bride the night before her wedding. She lays hoping nothing goes wrong, and then that one word runs through her head like its running through mine...Forever. To my human mind I cannot even comprehend the word. So I reduce it to simpler terminology. Forever meaning until I die. Baptism and a wedding are both sacred ceremonies connecting two people to one another. A relationship is formed and progresses until they are both ready to be bonded to one another for the rest of their lives. God has been waiting for me at the alter for 23 years. Such patience!Tomorrow I say "I do" to God. I'll Promise to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, through good times and bad. When I have friends and when I don't, when the storms of life rage, when I have a man and when im single (hallelujah!! :)), and when this world is ready to engulf me and devour my soul. I promise I will love, cherish, honor, fear, devote my life, and choose God before friends, family, and this world. It's a scary thought sometimes. We mess up all the time and our parents get angry, or yell. But most of all they feel dissapointed. I pray with all I have that I don't disappoint God. A lot of people use the fact that we are naturally sinful creatures to justify their sins. Like they can't do better, because they will always be destined to sin. But I know today, when I am immersed in that water, and my old sinful habits die, I will raise out of that water a clean and new person. Leaving behind the past that the Devil deceived me with, and made me believe it was the best I could do. The credit I merited him is no longer relevant. He's going to be so busy, but im not scared of him anymore. He can throw his hardest blow, but my God is just a prayer away. I'm truly happy now. Finally!

Heavenly Father thank you for this chance you've given me. I should be dead and gone, without a second thought from you Lord. But you saw it better to love me than leave me and I thank you for that. I take my vows with a seriousness that not many will understand. I know following you is not the popular thing to do in this world but this world is not my home. Just passing through until you come back for your children. Please protect me from Satan's snare, and keep his imps from touching me. Thank you again for what you've done for me, and what you will do in the future. Thank you for giving me my life back. Amen

Its never too late...

Nature's Symphony

A prose poem: Meaning no stanza's, verses or line breaks like in traditional poetry. Kind of more in paragraph form...

No electricity in my one bedroom apartment. My bed occupied only by my body and pregnant thoughts. Giving birth to ideas of serial killing murderers, chainsaw massacres and my possibly unlocked door. I'm alone, again. No cable to watch, no phone calls to distract me from my own mind. The only comfort I have is my own air escaping and returning, escaping and returning. I lie on my back and stare at the tiled Ceiling.



The evening night draws uncomfortably close as the sky begins to drip from its pinnacle. Darkness cloaks this side of the earth with an eerie ease. Listen to the eastern winds rustle the trees. Mmmm I smell rain. It trickles. Newborn drops stumble on to my window pane. Trying to find stability, but fail with each splash.



I listen to the dripping rhythm and try to mimic the beat on the window. At first sounds like a grandfather clock, malfunctioning. Tick Tock silence, tock tock tick silence, but wait... The barrage of annoying audio pollution transforms. The thunder crashes like the cymbals of an orchestra, and howling wind is reminiscent of a sweet piccolo. A loose shutter keeps the down beat on the side of the building. Listen. A sweet melody forms and I am lulled to sleep. Unaware that on nights like these, thoughts of fear are neglected, while I hear nature's symphony rehearse in my backyard.

Why Did She Cross the Road??

The door was cracked, just enough to create hope.
Now was her chance for freedom.
With her owner on his way into town
the window of opportunity was widening
with each mile driven away from the farm house.
She slowing opened the door
being startled by the creaking noise.
She jumped back, twisting her head in every
direction hoping no one heard.
It was now or never.
She lept from the porch and
ran low through the corn field
like an army assasin.
Flashing thoughts of the abuse she was leaving
behind clouded her mind.
She and her sisters subjected to
constant sexual episodes with that one male.
Never able to think about birthing her own
because her purpose was not to procreate,
but to serve her owner.
The Journey long and arduous,
pecking quickly at the small grains she
found along the way.
But persisting like a convict headed for water.
And then there she saw it. The Road.
Highway buzzing, and cars whizzing
How could anyone make it?
With a glance behind, searching for the dogs
she raised her beak to the sky and
cluck clucked her way across
Hoping God could hear the cry of a scared
chicken crossing the road.

I'm taking the final plunge...

For a while I have battled with my relationship with God. He and I have always had a weird up and down relationship, where I would be on fire for him on one weekend, and then fall right back into my usualy mess the next. (And when I say MESS i mean just that) my relationship with him was non existent and i was so caught up in the world and my friends that I forgot all about him. As some of you might know, I left Berrien Springs, MI where i was a student and soon to be graduate at Andrews university. I was almost at the finish line and just couldn't finish. I noticed a change in me, that i didn't like. I turned into a person i didn't want to be. and did not like. (And i feel i can be totally honest with you all because its a person i no longer am. I am a new creature in Christ and my past is just that...my past.) There would be sometimes where i would withhold my tithe and offering because i was using it to buy things like liquor for me and my friends, or going to parties where i knew i was going to end up groaped and man handled. i forgot that my Body is a temple and holy in the eyes of God. I didn't know what it was to pray, or have personal worship. I was NOT who my mother and father raised. And all of that just led to me messing up in school. Staying up late doing nothing, being completely unproductive. Something told me, i had to get out before i lost everything. Everyone said, why are you leaving? Why go? Your almost finished. But something deeply embedded in my heart said, You have to leave before you lose your soul. I was tired of crying, and saddness, and sick of being influenced by everyone else. I was weak and had trouble saying no, and that drained me of true love. Not love for a man, or a friend, But true love for myself.
I left and moved to Atlanta, where i am living with my mom and dad. I have been looking for a job and trying to apply to schools, but nothing is really happening in my favor. Living a life of monotony, just trying to get through the day without becoming unhinged. One sabbath I went to a revelation seminar at my church, and that was the beginning of a brand new life. Four days a week i sit and listen about the promises of God, and how much he loves us. And this time i knew it wasn't just an emotional high, but i was passed crying in my pew and feeling sorry for myself, i was learning! I reached a point of enlightenment that didn't make me feel sorry for myself, but comforted me, because i knew i still had a chance to live the life i was meant to. I reached the point where i was ready to give my life to God, and for real this time. Not for anyone else, but Him. So this past Saturday, the appeal was made, and i stood and walked to the front. I'm getting rebaptized this weekend on August 4, 2007. And im finally excited because i finally have my life back.
"Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new." 2 Corinthians 5:17

"I wish that there were some wonderful place,
Called the Land of Beginning Again,
Where all my mistakes and all my heartaches,
And all my poor selfish grief,
Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door
and never put on again"

-Unknown-