My Scar Pt 1

The other day I drove to my job, which is about 5 minutes up the road. No problems...piece a cake. The next day I got behind the wheel and the mere thought of getting on to the highway drove me to tears. I really thought I was alright, and that I would be one of those people who were mentally strong enough to overcome a traumatic experience like that... I was wrong.

I've never felt anxiety like that... Before I even left my housing complex my hands were sweating like I just finished washing them. My heart was thumping hard and loud. I could hear it in my body making African warrior rhythms. I couldn't get comfortable in my seat.... my seat belt was choking me like a noose and I felt as if I was about to panic. Luckily I was with my friend so she drove me to school, but needless to say I was embarrassed.

So many things have changed since I survived being hit by an 18-wheeler. Of course there is the physical trauma that never leaves. The pain might momentarily subside but the aches and pains are deep, and my epidermis layers will never return to perfection. I think about this scar I’ll have and wonder how it will really affect me down the road. My mother keeps saying “It could be worse” Which is SO true and I am thankful that it wasn’t, but there is still a part of me that thinks about this scar with sadness. Call it vanity, but I hate knowing that there will be a piece of my body that will be damaged forever.

Little Kids stare at my bandage everywhere I go. I’m sorry did I say little kids? I meant EVERYONE! I’m sure their imaginations are running rampant, trying to guess that happened to my arm. Some women ask what happened and I simply say “I was in a car accident”. Their curious eyes instantly change to pity expressions and I hear “Oh my Well Bless your little heart!!!” in the thickest Deep South accent. That just makes it worse.

When it all boils down, it’s the mental baggage that really had a hold on me. I don’t want to be the object of pity for the rest of my life. I don’t want to have to keep explaining my scar everywhere I go. I don’t want to feel the need to wear long sleeves in June. I don’t want this scar to manifest insecurities in my self-esteem. I just don’t I want to go back to my regular life!!

But that was in the beginning, and now I think about that word that I so earnest long for....

Regular? Ordinary? customary? Habitual??? Since when is mediocrity an acceptable alternative? I now know that my “regular” life was only sub-par, and I am in the midst of a second opportunity to be more. This accident was more a blessing than I thought it was. I won’t let my scar be motivation for pity, but be a vehicle for my praise. I wondered why God couldn’t just let me walk away unscathed, and in perfect health. But God is letting me and the rest of the world know that my scar is more than just an ugly skin imperfection....it is deep...... meaningful.....beautiful....it is my testimony........



.....to be continued

Back again...

SO here I am again trying not to pull a mental hamstring, since being out of the writing game for so long. Be patient while I loosen up again. UPDATES: There hasn't been a whole lot going on in my life. I have been working my behind off, trying to get my grades up, so I can transfer to a real University again (mission accomplished). After taking classes this past semester I have passed all of them with A's and I am ready to get this degree. I got my acceptance letter in the mail on Friday. I've never been so hungry for school in all of my life. I'm usually the one laid back and riding the waves on this academic journey, but now I am on a tiny life raft trying to paddle my way to the shore. I GOT to have it. I NEED to have it. There is no quesiton about it. I see the finish line and nothing will get in my way.
I am currently employeed at a Kohls here where I live, and working in retail is quite the experience. I have a hard enough time picking up after myself, let alone some random teenagers whose mamas never taught them how to hang a shirt and put it back where they found it. Seriously, I think some of them are just doing it on purpose. Next time I see a girl walk in to my dressing room with 4 shirts, that are identical in style and size but different in color, I'm gonna have to pull her to the side and tell her THE COLOR DOESN'T CHANGE THE FIT! Pick one and leave my store. But all in all, its not my dream job but I grin and bare it and pick up my check every Friday. Its only temporary (thats what I keep telling myself)
Other than that the monotony of school, work, and church has been consistant. But consistantly good. I love church more and more and I try my hardest to soak in as much as i can to carry it throughout my week. But the Day to day spiritual walk had been a rocky road to say the least. And I'm walking on it barefooted, and in need of guidance. Its crazy how the fire slowly dies after being so spiritually elevated. But i will Expand on that rollercoaster in a later blog.
But other than the slight annoyances at work, and working on my own spiritual discipline, life is turning into a beautiful thing. I have made a lot of great new friends here, and I'm becoming more comfortable here. Will I stay in Atl? Who knows... But I am going to take advantage of the everything while I am here. A few more updates, but that will come tomorrow. G'night readers.

Deidre Nichole

Valentine's day...(belated)

I woke up with absolutely no expectations of affection or a spoken I love you from a possible secret admirer. I wanted to treat V-day as any other day. I didn't want to take the bitter approach, or the Single Angry Black Woman route, so i thought it best to pretend the day didn't exist. But of course its not really possible. Once I stepped outside, my neighbors ENORMOUS heart flag was practically slapping me in my face whenever the wind blew. Every store and restaurant was adorned in every shade of Repulsive Red, and Putrid Pink (Crayola should think adding those colors to their 72 Crayon set. Just a thought) Every car I drove by was stuffed full of balloons causing people to drive like idiots speeding home. Little kids holding sweet cards tight to their chests, like it was precious gold. Walking proud because they can say "Mommy I picked it out myself" Good for you Kid. Now move out of the street.
Maybe my refuge could be found at the gym. It should be relatively quiet, leaving me to sweat, lift, lunge, treadmill, and bike in agony in my own privacy. I was right about one thing. It was a quiet day, but do you think I could escape the nauseating decorations? Of course not. Hearts hung from treadmills, and televisions. They even had the nerve to have not one, but TWO baskets of Hershey kisses at the counter. I thought this was the gym? Are they trying to sabatoge all the hard work I just did? If I didn't have any sense I should have stolen the basket and let them follow my trail of foil wrappers to a bathroom stall where I was chocolate covered in a diabetic coma. Some nerve.
Home was my safe haven. My plan was this. Come home from the gym, Have a hot shower, wash my hair, put on some fresh PJ's, pop some corn, maybe indulge in come ice cream and watch my Season 2 Cosby show DVDs ( THANKS TOYA! LOVE YOU SIS). And maybe curl up with a good book. Beside the mass texts that I received all day, it was a a wonderful night. Simply put I was my valentine this year, and it was better than I thought it would be. I wasn't home thinking about why I didn't have someone to share the day with, I was just happy to be a single girl who found comfort on a day made to celebrate couples. After all you gotta love yourself, before you can love anyone else. Right?

To My Valentine

We celebrate unconditionals
and intentional gifts of adoration.
Thank you for
choosing me dear.
We've made it through
another year dear
"I love you" echoed for
coupled ears to hear
You shouldn't have
But I'm so glad you did.
Where would I be without you?
Forgiven of my past and saw
my tomorrow.
I borrowed your strength
powered like a rocket
Given a gift greater
than chocolate.
You sacrificed
for my future.
Selfless
epitome of Brave
Honesty
This is how love behaves.
Not for cool points
but because it was right.
Thank you for loving
enough to fight.
My valentine gave that
I might have better.
Gave me the greatest
of history's love letters.
My valentine will forever be,
the ones who made me truly free.




Happy Black History Month...

Love?

Sometimes, the promises I make to myself come back to bite me later. I promised myself that if the writing bug buzzed I would stop what I was doing, and put it down on paper (or on screen). So that is what I'm doing. Before I get on my soapbox here's a lil bit of my day. My afternoon was perfectly planned. Last night I stayed up all night studying for my economics Exam (capital "E" on exam just to emphasize it's intensity) I saw the sun rise, and heard the ducks flying over head. Needless to say, my eye lids were dying to close by the time I wobbled to the front of the class to hand in my exam. My plan was this... Go home, find a sweet treat to indulge myself in (Vienna fingers), strip down to my bra and panties, put in a movie, and drift into sleepy town before my next class. But instead of a movie I chose Sex and the City Season 4 Disc 1. As usual, while I listened to Ms. Carrie Bradshaw rant about love and relationships I couldn't help but do the same.

This particular episode was about soul mates and questions if there really is "the one" out there for every person. I really don't know how I feel about the idea of one person meant for another. Destined to find each other in this massive world. To tell you the truth, some days I believe it, other days I'm as cynical as a Cathy cartoon. There has been too many times when I had elevated hopes in certain men, and I was left disappointed and unsatisfied. I haven't really written any blogs about love, for fear of sounding like a mad black woman, but cupid has some serious explaining to do.

I've been single for about a year now, and it's not an easy thing. I'm not that kind of person who NEEDS to be with someone at all times, But being in the setting that I am in makes it harder because I'm single and without any type of real male prospects. No more late night phone conversations, no movies, no one to even wink at. The only crop I have to observe is at church, and most of those men have wives, girlfriends, babies, or just AIN'T RIGHT!

But this idea of "the one" got me thinking? I've had a few boyfriends (or guys I've talked to for an extended period of time), and after a break up I have always just written them off as just not the right guy for me. BUT there is one, that I can't seem to get off of my mind. Periodically I can find myself thinking about him when I hear a song, or see a romantic movie. And in a very deep down, far off place, I reserve a hope that he will be the one. That somehow our paths will cross again, and fate will work its magic . I really try not to think about him, but it's something I just can't shake.

Maybe he is to me what Mr. Big was to Carrie. They were lovers, boyfriend and girlfriend, good friends, and enemies. It's a trip how love works. I wish I could just deem him as another bad partner, but there has to be something that is keeping me attached to the thought of "us". Does it mean he's "the one" or am I just hanging on to something that has already come and gone. Like trying to hold onto a wave, or a catch a sweet breeze. I have NO IDEA. I'm just letting the thoughts run out through my fingertips. I guess I'll see how it will play out on life's stage. I just know I'm ready to find my co-star.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Here in the city of Atlanta is where Dr. Martin Luther King spent many years of his life. His home where he grew up is here in Atlanta. The church where MLK pastored , and the segregated public school where MLK graduated from is here in Georgia. There is a lot more history here than I could have imagined. It's a shame that through all my griping and moaning about living here I could experience something so meaningful.

My family and I decided to take a trip to the King Center in downtown Atlanta. I didn't really know what to expect, but the experience was one of the most memorable since I've moved here. As soon as you step onto the property the path up to the King Center is lined with the foot prints of the influential people in the fight for equality: Rosa Parks, Thurgood Marshall, Medgar Evers, Jesse Jackson. Even celebrities like Sidney Poitier, Lena Horne and Stevie Wonder. A statue of Ghandi greets you at the end of the walk way before you enter the building.

Inside is where it got really DEEP. You just feel and aura of reverence come over you, and it seems inappropriate to even sneeze or cough. You are saturated by the unforgettable words of Dr. King, as his speeches are played over the speakers. You don't have a choice but to stop in your tracks and listen. Listen to the intentional deep shake in his voice, to the intonation and pitch. All of those rhetorical tools can be taught in a voice and diction class, but the words are undeniable. Sermons and Speeches like that a pure and straight from the heart. That doesn't come from any classroom. It touches something deep. I don't care who you are. If you stop and listen, you will be effected.

The whole room just permeates with pride. A type of pride that today is shadowed, or exploited by the media. The definition of what being black is, has a totally different meaning from the past to now. Back in MLK's time black people fought for dignity. They would suffer the burning sands of hatred just to be thought of as equal. But today, we don't have the fight in us like they did, so we submit to mediocrity. Don't get me wrong, we can talk the talk, but not many will walk the walk like the black people of old.

Black people in the movement felt they "made it" when they were given access to things that should have already had. A front seat or a new school book to read. Today black people think the "made it" according to their bank rolls. Money doesn't mean anything if your character is out of wack.

That whole MLK center experience just really effected me. It made me want more for myself. Most black people in the past have accomplished a boat load more than I have, and they had access to half as much. I want to have pride in my accomplishments, I want to demolish mediocrity, and execute superficiality. The MLK Center showed me that it's time to step my life up a few (hundred) notches. There are black people who died for me to have a life worth living, and we as a people ( black or white alike) should take advantage of that opportunity, reach our potentials, and live a life of substance.

"When Evil men plot, Good men must plan

When Evil men burn and bomb
good men must build and bind.
When evil men shout ugly words of hatred,
Good men must commit themselves to the glories of love.
When evil men would seek to perpetuate an unjust status quo,
Good men must seek to bring into being a real order of justice."

-Martin Luther King Jr.

A Depiction of one of the marches.

A recreation of a jail cell Dr. King was confined to. Only big enough for a small bench to sit on.

A picture of a lynching in the South. "Southern trees bear a strange fruit"

The wagon that carried Dr. King's casket

Where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and his wife Coretta Scott King lay to rest.

Winter Wonderland

These pictures are not of some ones house on the Northeast of the United States. And this isn't a picture of someone's house in the Midwest. These two pictures are of the front of my house, and my backyard in GEORGIA!! I was going to blog about the weather earlier this week, when is snowed on Wednesday, but it came and went so quickly that I thought it was just a fluke. But this morning while I was getting ready for church, I looked out the window and forgot where I was.

We're originally from Massachusetts so this weather doesn't faze us one bit, But these Atlanta driver could have swore they were in the midst of a blizzard. Hazard lights flashing, and windshield wipers flapping like there was no tomorrow. While we're in out Envoy SUV cruising by like its just a little rainy day. It's funny how inventive people get when snow is piled on top of your car and you don't have the proper equipment. I saw a women using her umbrella to try and push the heavy snow off of her windshield. Church Bulletins were folded and used as makeshift scrapers. It was kinda funny. But we did help a few people who seemed baffled as to what to do. I think some people we actually considering waiting in the church, until the 'blizzard" passed.

But it was good to see some kids enjoy their first real snow storm. Immediately after church they all made snowballs and had a mini fight in the back of church. I don't know where their parent were though, because I'd be whooping my child if they were rolling around in the snow in their church clothes. When we drove up up to our house, all of the neighborhood kids were laying flat their backs, trying to make snow angels. (Def didn't have enough snow for that, but they don't know any better) lol it was cute.

I really thought I escaped New England-esque weather when I came to GA... clearly I was wrong.

Forecast for next week: Sunny 55 degrees... I don't get it.

Charlotte's Web

Usually on Saturday mornings we never have time to eat breakfast because we're always running late for church. However we had a little extra time last Saturday. My dad and I toasted our usually slices of bread, but my mom decided she wanted to have a bowl of cereal. She had just bought a new cereal called South Beach Diet. SO she opens the tightly sealed plastic bag and slowly tilts the box waiting for her whole grain crunch to tumble into her bowl.

She tilts... hmmm nothing. She tilts a little more.... man what is going on? Finally she tilts the box at an extreme degree, and a huge clump of cereal tries to roll its way out of the box, but is having difficulty. Why you ask? What is holding this cereal captive? Brace yourselves.... SPIDER WEBS!

Yes you heard me correctly. A huge mass of white spider webs has engulfed the contents of this cereal box. I see all of this happening before my eyes and I just want to scream! My mind goes straight to arachnophobia and I am ready to burn the house down and start from scratch. I'm so dramatic I just KNEW our house was infested. But then after I calmed my breathing I say wait a minute, this was a brand new box of cereal. Whatever made a home in this box, came straight from the packaging factory. I just had to walk away because that freaked me out even more.

Needless to say I was disgusted, and very hesitant to buy another box if ANY kind of cereal. But I did yesterday day, but you better believe before I poured anything into my bowl, I took the whole plastic bag out of the box, and did an EXTENSIVE examination of the contents. I ate one little frosted wheat square, and still couldn't bring myself to eat anymore. I don't know If I'll be able to eat cereal again.

Prime Time education

Today I started my first day of classes. I woke up this morning with not so much as a pen to write with or a gum wrapper to take notes on. Needless to say I was not prepared at all. I didn’t have one book, and I really didn’t know when they would be arriving in the mail. At Andrews I was used to having an ID card that I use to purchase my books, like a credit card, but here, you reach deep down into the lint traps of your own pockets and pay. I had to find a cheaper alternative so scoured the internet and found my books at a much cheaper price. Let’s just hope they arrive before the quarter ends.

That’s right… I said Quarter. This college works on the quarter system. It feels like an extended summer school. Each one of my classes is over two hours long and each quarter is only 10 weeks long. I only have 2 classes but they are 5 credits each, so let’s just say it’s a lot of work crammed into a short amount of time.

So my alarm sounds at 9, and I wake up like it’s any other day, and then I remember, OH YEAH, I have class today. After I get showered and dress I don’t even bother on a conquest for some loose leaf paper of a note pad, I just throw my laptop in my bag and call it a day.

I drive into the school parking lot (that’s right I DRIVE) while eating my unsweetened oatmeal chock full o’ raisins and I find building B. Intro to Economics in Room 227 is where 4 hours and 30 minutes of my week will decay for the next 10 weeks. I walk in and see students scattered across the room, like they are scared to sit next to one another. So I follow suit and try to find a seat in my own seclusion. 10:30 hits and a 50 something year old woman enters with papers in her hand and her hair tussled, like she just came from a sky diving lesson.

“I will be your proctor for today. Hopefully we can get everything else straightened out with you actually professor.” She said through nasal speech.

I don’t see anyone else with a laptop, so I’m a little hesitant of setting mine up, But I really don’t have any other choice. So as I’m setting up my things, I see another woman enter and turn on the television. She fiddles with some wires in the back and suddenly the class sees a live stream of video from another classroom at an unknown location. We’re a little confused but we just wait for our teacher so come in.

About 3 minutes pass and we hear a voice boom from the television. “Hello Class! I am Dr. Cali, I will be your instructor for Intro to Economics." I look up at the flat screen television and see an OLD man walk into the room, and give a quick acknowledgment to the camera. WHAT? Are you serious? Is this man really teaching our class via…. TELEVISION?

Yes he is… He teachers two classes simultaneously. One in person, and one through the boob tube. There is a camera set up on the television so he can see us, and we can see him. And microphones, so that he can hear us and we can hear him. GREAT! I have a hard enough time paying attention in class, now I have to try and get an A in a class where I’m staring at a screen and listening to some old man ramble on about the economy.

I should have taken this class online…

Thou Shalt Not Kill...Day 9

I am on the last leg of my fast and it has been an uphill battle. My sisters were here visiting so it is just customary for us to eat good food. I've survived my dad's steaks (for anyone who doesn't know, my dad makes the best steaks), I made it through dinner at the Golden Corral Buffet, Ox tail, Nachos, and I don't even want to even mention the desserts. There were times that I actually had to just leave the kitchen, and lock myself in my bedroom. In these moments of solitude I actually took the time to think about the fast, and ponder why exactly this change in my life is necessary.

In the 10 commandments God set in stone the rules we as his disciple should follow. It covers all of the basics. But nowhere does it say Thou must eat healthy, or Thou must stick to a certain diet. But could it be that when God wrote Thou shalt not kill for the 6th commandment He didn't just mean we shouldn't kill each other, but we should not kill ourselves? Are smokers, drinkers, and drug abuser all breaking God's 6th law every time they consume a substance that has harmful effects on their bodies. Each puff of smoke, and shot of patron is another nail in their coffins. But on the less extreme side of the equation are overweight people who eat on fast food also slowly killing themselves as well. Of course!! It just make sense doesn't it. Addiction can come in all shapes and forms and food addiction is just as harmful. We (I include myself) have to be more aware of the things we put into our mouths, because with every sweet and savory bite we could be potentially stepping closer and closer to an early grave.

This is the foundation of my fast. It's time to make the change, and take the proper steps towards weight loss, and healthy living. It won't be easy, and I don't think God wants to deny me every sweet little indulgences, but all things in moderation. And that's what it is all about to me.

Day 9: -11.2 pounds

Daniel Fast (Day 1)

Daniel 1:8-14 Contemporary English Version

8Daniel made up his mind to eat and drink only what God had approved for his people to eat. And he asked the king's chief official for permission not to eat the food and wine served in the royal palace. 9God had made the official friendly and kind to Daniel. 10But the man still told him, " The king has decided what you must eat and drink. And I am afraid he will kill me, if you eat something else and end up looking worse than the other young men."

11The king's official had put a guard in charge of Daniel and his three friends. So Daniel said to the guard, 12" For the next ten days, let us have only vegetables and water at mealtime. 13When the ten days are up, compare how we look with the other young men, and decide what to do with us." 14The guard agreed to do what Daniel had asked.

I, along with members of my church choir have decided that we will be participating in a Daniel Fast for 10 days. It has already begun today, and ends on the 10th of January. Similar to the text above , we have restricted our diets to the eating of vegetables, with the addition of fruits, whole grains, and Legumes. That means no meat, dairy, bread, fried foods, sugar (or sugar substitute) any products using white flour, etc.

The goal of this fast is to become closer to God by voluntarily denying the demands of my flesh. (something I have struggled with that) I will increase my prayer life during this time, and study the scriptures with a new intensity. I am desperately trying to start off this new year with the right mind set. I not only want my spiritual life to be enhanced but also my physical health. This is a spiritual renewal as well as a temple renovation. These 10 days are just the beginning to a more healthy life. Food has always been a problem for me, and I think it's time I make a change.

I've fasted before but never for such a long period of time. This will truly be a test of my will power, and my faithfulness to the things I have promised God. It has only been one day, and the hunger pangs are a little unbearable. Right now I could go downstairs and eat a whole loaf of bread. Anything! But I'm glad I made it through this first day without smacking my sister in her mouth for making nachos right in front of my face. But it was a test I passed, and God knows I would usually delay the fast until tomorrow and grab a plate. But the journey to maturity must continue.

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.