What's Love Got To Do With It?

I woke up this morning and I could barely breathe.
Somewhere between a breath and a wheeze, I said enough.
Enough.

Lip service.
All I get is fucking lip service.
If you gonna be flapping like that at least get on your knees,
Distract me from the mountains of bullshit pouring from your mouth to stink up my ears.

When we met promises fell from your lips like golden rain drops.
Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you can have.
Maybe I heard what I wanted to hear;
Believed what was expedient to my ends.

I let myself open.
Head turned, spun all the way around.
I put on your apron when you promised me a crown.

Stretching and tugging these two ends to meet in the middle.
I woke up and what was stretched was me.
Stretched out, spread thin on the altar of reality,

My dreams burning around me like so much tinder.
My tears drying before they fall,
Incinerated by sheer disgust.

Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you can have.
I keep coming back to that sentence.
Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you can have.
That’s what you said to me the day we met.

You were so smooth, so handsome, so confident.
Tell me your dreams, trust me with your heart.
Yeah, you played your part.
Cast my role and stuck me in it.

I was so sure so positive of you.
I was proud to have you on my arm.
I remember I couldn’t wait to see the preacher man.
I wanted to show him my blessing.

I walked down the aisle, kissed you like I meant it.
Cooked your favorite meals,
Tried all of your positions.
Competed with online whores for your attention.

I took low so you could be the head, your alleged position.
Bit my tongue almost through, on my knees I vented.
Praying to the Lord, begging for His intervention.
I married a man and woke up next to a boy, Lord.

I’m paying penance for something, I’m not sure what.
Impatience, hubris, perhaps lust?
I admit it, I wanted you; I loved when you hit it.
Now when you touch me all I can think is,
Is this it?
Is this what I sacrificed for?

I need a man in my bed and Bob does it better.
I don’t expect Bob to do anything other than what he does.
Bob never pretended to be anything beyond his warranty.

I’m just tired of being tired.
Tired of hearing excuses and asking to be excused.

Excuse me for wanting the man you pretended to be to show up.
I call roll every day and that motherfucker ain’t never in attendance.
Just this shell of a man, joystick in hand,
Looking at me like with confusion.

I am at a loss, I’m confused.
I’m sick and I’m tired of being used and neglected.
You love me?
So what?
What does love have to do with it?

Seriously, I’m asking.
Does love shelter me, protect me, cherish me?
In this house love is me forgiving you for tainting my life with foolishness.
Love is irresponsible and selfish.
Love is petulant and mean.

Love is full of shit.

Fuck you, I say, and again I say,
Fuck you.
You sorry, trifling ass, lazy motherfucker.

Do you care how much you’ve hurt me?
Do you care that I love you?
Hell, no.
What does love have to do with it?

In the face of your love my love cooks your meals.
My love encourages you when you’re down.
My love shows compassion and mercy,
When my anger says “Fuck it all.”

My love surrenders, when my mouth wants to fight.
When words form in my mind to tear you down,
My love pulls me away.
Love leads me to hold my tongue and be careful what I say.

The love I have shown you…
Oh, the love I have showered you with in the face of inconsiderate brutality.
The love…

Am I supposed to be miserable forever, tied to a man I am not in love with?
Oh.
You thought because I love you, I am also in love with you.
In love with a mirage?

So sad.
No, dear, that has passed.
I will love you forever, but in love with you?
In love with someone who values me so little?
I would be a fool.

In love with a child?
No, love, no.
I was in love with the character you portrayed, but he lacked staying power.
The real you showed up and for him I feel pity and mercy.

To have such great love staring you in the face.
Offered unselfishly; unconditionally, and lack the wisdom to recognize and appreciate it.
To lack the ability to value what another man would treasure.

Do you know the lioness that was in your corner?
The warrior at your back?
I would have sacrificed almost anything for you.
I was prepared to make your dreams my dreams.
Fulfill your wishes.

Truly for you I would…
I would anything to enhance your happiness.
Anyway, for your smile.
For you I simply, would.

Since I was a little girl,
My dream was to be wife to a strong and fierce man; a warrior.
I never wanted a prince on a white horse,
Pampered and cosseted.

I wanted the knight, sword in hand,
Able to survive the trenches of life.
Not simply able, but eager to slay life’s dragons.

Ready to protect and shelter me.
A simple dream really, metaphorical.
I thought you were my dream come true and I was willing to build new dreams with you.

Yet here I find no dreams, but a wasteland.
A displaced prince hiding behind my skirts looking to me to slay the dragon.
Looking to me to be the hero.
If I have to do the rescuing, why do I need a man?

Because I love you?

Sad.
Didn’t you hear me?
Didn’t you hear Tina?

What’s love got to do with it?
What’s love but a second hand emotion?
Some ol’ bullshit people sing about and bitch ass men pretend to feel,
To trap silly ass females into a shitty ass marriage.

Ah, you have hurt me.
Yes, my heart bleeds, but anger would cauterize the wound.
Turning that once strong muscle into an angry black mass of scar tissue, impenetrable by any man.

Men disdain gold diggers, whores.
I admire them.
They get what the fuck they want and move on.
They don’t get stuck playing house with Ms. Thelma’s silly ass son.

A whore will take his money and send him home to Ms. Thelma.
I’m not ready to play whore, but you can go.
Go back home to your mama.
Let her finish raising you, if she can.

Hell, I don’t care if she can or can’t;
Just go back to her.
I’m done playing mama to a grown ass man.

©Pamela Shropshire 2011

I Miss

I miss the illusion of being in love with you.

It felt so real.

Something to hold on to,

Something to hope for.

I am, now, left only with the ashes of a dream.

When you were my fake mine, I could imagine your seed in my arms,

Your ring on my finger.

Your wife.

Now am I left with white noise,

Static has replaced the impassioned symphony of love,

That flashed and danced in my heart at the sight of you.

No stutter to my hearts beat that I can acknowledge.

My eyes following you are the actions of a fool.

You want them, while I want only you.

While I waited to be the joy you enjoyed,

You were still discovering new joys.

While I waited, you moved on, until I didn’t remember what I was waiting on.

Didn’t remember until I stopped waiting.

Now waiting is longing.

Longing is pain.

Empty is agony.

Sometimes when it hurts so deep

I feel like I’m swimming in a sea of my own blood.

When lonely is my only lover.

I think to take that random fuck buddy to my bed.

Hoping that in the driving of his body into mine,

I can drive you out.

Purge your love from my heart.

Instead I close my eyes, your name on my lips.

Eyes closed I see only you.

The body I don’t remember is yours.

When it’s over, I’m left with tears and reality.

True knowledge that he isn’t and never will be you.

His scent not yours,

His touch pale and revolting in comparison to what we were.

I try to pull reality in as a comfort.

The truth that if man should choose,

You have yet to choose me, alone.

I swaddle myself in reality.

Roll around in it until it’s scent coats me.

Hold tight to the ends when love waits to rip it away,

Pull it from my grasp.

Wrapped in the thin sheet of reality,

My heart still seeks the hearth of your heart.

I was never so warm as when I was wrapped up in you.

Never as secure.

I miss my illusion.

Miss the eyes of my lie.

The kiss of his lips, the strength of his arms.

Fuck pride!

No, you fuck with self respect.

I feel torn between begging for scraps when I deserve a 5 star meal.

Torn to give you anything when I’m only receiving some things.

The brutal truth,

The pain of being with you makes these feelings like a picnic.

I’m back to square one,

Back to letting go of my love.

Somehow reality doesn’t seem so cold and unfulfilling.

I can accept how I feel for you.

I accept that it’s not meant.

I can do what I must to survive.

If the depth of that love pops up and makes me miss,

Hopefully, I can process my way through before I dial your number.

Before I offer the left side of my bed in exchange for your leftovers.

©Pamela Shropshire 2011

My Only

He appeared seemingly out of nothing, though I know he appeared from my dreams.

Formed and delivered of hope.

My belief that he existed, and that soon he would be here.

Beloved, the names I called you while waiting.

The thoughts I had, while missing arms I had not felt.

Tears rebuked because I would not allow them to fall.

Would not allow their tracks to lay a path to doubt and unbelief.

I knew you were coming because you had to come.

Not that I wouldn't have lived without you,

Or couldn't after you.

No, my hope was not borne of desperation.

It was simply implausible that the hope poured into you would net no result.

Unthinkable that it should be in vain.

There were times when breathing, I smelled you,

In my dreams I felt you.

When other men wanted to lay claim, a voice whispered, wait.

To which I would respond, hurry up.

I have missed you so that words don't exist to convey how much.

There are not colors vivid enough to paint the pain of loneliness.

I can't touch you enough to grow bored.

Can't gaze upon you too long to be satisfied.

I missed your eyes capturing mine,

Missed the way your hand strokes my brow, your lips caress my heart.

Missed your skin dancing under the pads of my fingers.

Missed the smell of you on my clothes, my body, my bed.

I missed your ring weighing my finger.

Missed you.

Now you are home.

Now we are home in each other, formed perfectly for each other,

A fit that would work with no other.

Some days I wonder how I functioned without the pieces you bring to my life.

Quite simply and irrevocably, I love you.

Was in love with you before I knew what in love meant.

Before I knew what boys meant to girls, I knew that somewhere out there,

My best friend was waiting on me.

The one who could look upon my out there thoughts and actions,

Smile and say, that’s my baby.

The one who could love me without embarrassment or apology.

With a purity that runs clear and pure, like a stream,

Bringing two peas to the same pod.

I know it sounds fanciful, but I feel like Rapunzel waiting for ages to be rescued from my tower.

Now that you have found me,

I want to dance and sing and laugh.

With you.

I want to do everything I never did, with you.

I want to pull you in close and hold on,

Secure that in my arms is where you want to be.

Confident that I am home to you and you are to me.

I could wax poetic all day,

Go on, singing odes and composing sonnets,

Dedicated to your lovely eyebrows and distinguished hairline.

I could write an epic which length would not begin to encompass what we are to each other.

But I digress.

My heart steady, my breath a whisper,

I relax in your embrace,

Content to imagine us fifty years down the road in just this pose.

My sigh whispers out,

Breath feathering your face.

Your arms tighten around me and I’m safe.

Just like this, in just this way, I give over to my only.

©Pamela Shropshire 2011

Are You a Romance Writer? | Just Effing Entertain Me

Are You a Romance Writer? | Just Effing Entertain Me

Lonely

It all seems a colossal waste.

I sit trying to write about the angst of love lost,

When I’m still waiting to be favored by love.

What is the point?

Pretending doesn’t lessen the loneliness,

It’s still a crushing weight carried around daily.

I force smiles I don’t feel, because they’re all looking..

Hold in an ocean of tears that want to pour out,

A ravaging tsunami of pain.

I can almost smile at the drama of it all,

If it didn’t hurt so fucking much.

If I didn’t randomly scream with the agony of it all.

Piled on top is guilt, because I know the Almighty has a plan for me.

I know that this desire will be fulfilled.

I understand that this desire isn’t a curse even if it feels like a weapon.

My heart keeps crying, When, o’ Lord?

Have mercy upon thy servant and send my promise.

Even in despair, in an ocean  of deception,

I know my hope will bear fruit.

It’s like it would be okay to be home if he were also.

Since he’s not, it’s like why am I here.

Do you miss me, too?

Do you long for me as I do you?

Tempted to betray our commitment.

I can’t though.

When I think of giving in to a lie.

It’s like your ring is already on my hand and I don’t have the right to it.

Besides, it would be a lie.

Another substitute, code name Duracell.

Not someone I can cuddle up against in love.

Not someone to share dreams with, to hope with.

Someone to support and be supported by.

No, I don’t want a lie.

I want you and, dammit, you’re taking your time.

Do you think the same of me?

That I’m dragging my feet?

Are you sitting with your boys wondering what I’m doing?

I’m writing to you.

Missing you.

Forcing myself to find meaning in the delay.

Know that I wait for you and you alone.

To you I remain true.

(c) Pamela Shropshire 2011

Color Still Matters

I don’t recall a time when I have felt as hurt. It is a different kind of hurt. I am beyond words and I feel helpless in the face of it. Made to feel as though I have done something wrong, when I was simply trying to do what normal people do. I am stuck in a place of confusion; hopefully writing this will take me to a better place.

It is 2011, almost 2012, and when you see me, you still see a nigga. You still see someone less than you. I am angry. More at myself than you, because I allowed you the power to wound me. You are who you are, as all people like you are; it is up to me to love and respect who I am . It is my responsibility not to allow you the power to affect my self-perspective.

You follow me because I meet some thought in your mind of someone who is not to be trusted. I confront you, because I can’t live with leaving without asking. I sincerely want to understand what I did that placed me on your radar. Due to my own thinking and logic, I am forced to think beyond my race. I am unable to believe that you truly don’t trust me because of my tan.

Looking at the past, I see the struggle that people have faced due to racism. Blacks in this country have faced being beaten, raped, maimed and killed because of the color of their skin. I just got followed around a store. In the grand scheme of things, what I suffered was minor. Still, as minor as it was, I felt like a physical blow was delivered by the behavior.

I guess, my question is when will it stop? When will we see people as people? Is it possible to ever see people as one people without race classification? I have joked about race in my adult life. There was overt and not so obvious racism in my family. Still, I have friends of all races because I find in them some likeness that brings us together as friends.

It’s not all about white or black power. There is prejudice and preconceived notions about a variety of races. Stereotypes that cause people to look at people with cruelty and hatred. Things that may be perceived as a “joke” or meant to be funny, can cause pain and anger. These behaviors can incite violence.

When I asked the young man why he was following me, he laughed and said I’m not following anyone. It wasn’t a large store, still, if you are wherever I am, lurking to watch me, what should I think? The perception is not good. So when? Perhaps I’m being overly sensitive. Perhaps I took it the whole wrong way.

But I wanted to understand. I wanted to understand why? How dramatic is that? Still, I didn’t get an answer. I got a laugh and a shrug. So what now? I started to call and speak to the manager just to tell him how I felt. In the end I thought, what’s the point? So now, I’m just processing how in 2011, I’m still a nigger. How in 2011 I’m still the object of scorn and suspicious.

Maybe I will never know the answer to that question. Maybe it’s because there must be evil, because there is good. Perhaps the only point to this blog is to purge the poison of the incident from my soul. In spite of this incident, I still love all of my friends, black, white, red, yellow, whatever. I love them and count them as a part of me because despite the difference in color, there is a sameness of spirit that makes us one.

All he did was display his ignorance and miss out on the opportunity to show enlightenment. I am at peace.

Sexual Awareness

I want to blog about sex and the consequences thereof so that we are making informed decisions.  I don’t want to lecture anyone or have people make promises they don’t want to keep.  This post is about information and facts that people need in order to make healthy choices.

Let me first explain what I mean by healthy choices.  Health  is not a singular thing.  When I say healthy, I mean emotionally, physically and mentally healthy.  Decisions that we make in our lives impact our health in many ways.  We lie to our loved ones for fear of being judged or disappointing someone. We may feel guilt, loss of appetite or depression.

At this point, we are experiencing poor emotional, physical and mental health by one act.  One lie that has negatively affected you.  When a person has sex it affects our whole being, everything that makes us who we are. The way we define and value ourselves.

Life is cause and effect.  Our actions bring both positive and negative effects.  There are several ways to categorize sex.  Sex is not bad.  If done right and for the right reasons, sex should be pleasurable for both parties, both during the act and afterwards.  It may be surprising to hear me say that but education is about facts, not myths and delusions meant to scare you into conformity.

I’m not advocating sex or abstinence. I’m telling each person to do what is right for them. To wait until they know themselves well enough to make that kind of decision. In the moment, it may seem like the perfect decision to lay with someone, let them intermingle their body with yours. The thing about moments is that they don’t last forever; there will always be a next moment.  In the next moment you may feel loved and cherished or you may feel dirty and ashamed.  I won’t say wait until you’re grown up to have sex because most adults experience the same moments.

I am saying know yourselves.  Know what you can handle, what you can deal with.  Could you handle giving yourself over to someone and having them turn away from you?  Having them tell all of their friends about you and your performance?  I am asking you to wait until you are ready to deal with whatever the next moment brings.

Asking you, not telling you.  As young adults, and adults even,  it is up to each of us to make these decisions.  It would also be up to each of us individually to accept the consequences, positive or negative of our actions. I know enough about myself to know what I can and cannot find acceptable. I also love me enough not to settle for less than I deserve for a moment.

Some may be saying “I’m ready now.”  Being able to stand the tide of bad gossip is only one facet of being ready.  We must also be ready for the pain and degradation of an STD, which is possible with a sexual encounter.  Ready for the financial responsibility of a pregnancy.  Prepared for the emotional responsibility of being a parent; the monumental responsibility of shaping a life when you are not fully shaped yourself.

This is what I mean when I say an informed decision.  Being informed on what I am capable of and realistically, what I am not. At the teen level, on average, you can legally earn about $7.25 an hour.  While still in school Tennessee law prohibits you from working more than 18 hours a week when school is in session.  Which means the most you can earn a week is $130.5 before the government takes its cut, which is less than $600 per month.

Child care for an infant, still in diapers is approximately $100 per week, with a hook up. Diapers for the month would be about $75, if you’re conservative. Formula and baby food, another $100-$150 per month. Gas to and from work, school and childcare, another $160 per month at $40 per week. This leaves you several hundred dollars short, and this is before taxes. We still haven’t factored in possible after care, because your kid can only be at the daycare eight hours.

This means the  average baby care costs can exceed $1000 per month, which leaves you several hundred dollars short.  So the burden of your child falls to your parents and the state.  Let me paint a picture of government assistance for you.  You sit in a crowded, smelly room waiting hours for someone to call your name and rudely ask you a lot of personal questions. Questions like when did you last have sex, when was your last cycle, does your child’s father live with you, does he work.  This person will proceed to tell you how much money you can earn, where you can live and who can live with you.

I make considerably more money than $7.25 per hour and I still break out in hives at the thought of being a single parent. Sex falls into several different categories.  The best would be to wait until you fall in love and make love with someone who loves you in return.  Someone who will stand by you if you couldn’t have sex with them. Someone who would clean you up and kiss your sweaty brow if you were ill. A person who holds you in high enough esteem to stand before God and claim you as their own.

There is also having sex because it’s what everyone else is doing and you decide to have sex to fit in with your friends. This would lead to quite a bit of self flagellation and internal scorn. Again, I’m not telling anyone what choice to make, male or female, adult or teen. I’m saying whatever decision you make, be prepared to live with it.

Work "Friend"

I recently went through a series of changes at work that have placed me on an emotional rollercoaster. Let me say now, I despise change. I like to have my routine. In addition to my routine, I like having a “home”; a place at work that is mine and mine alone. Some of the changes I’m facing not only mess with my routine, but my nest is also being disturbed. I feel so like an orphan, begging to be adopted. That is not a position I relish being in.

I can admit that there were choices, decisions, I made that led to this upheaval, and still I wang. (Wang is an expression I use to express a severe case of ire and vitriolic expression of same.) So, in the midst of this change, is the loss of some work friends. This, more than anything, has caused a majority of my discomfort. My direct supervisor is a rock star. She is so wise about so many things that have helped me to grow as a person and a leader.

There are also quite a few auxiliary relationships that have made coming to work more enjoyable than it has been in quite some time. I work in a call center with several hundred different spirits and personalities that can try a person daily. Next week, I will find myself tossed into the lions’ den once again hoping to make friends with beasts. Times like this make me want my emergency Snickers in the worst way!

I have been on edge all day! Vacillating between tears, anger and indifference. In my role, all I want to do is help people, but I want to help the lions I know, not these new ones. But alas, I will. I love helping people, especially people who have a desire to learn and be helped. This made me evaluate the oxymoron that is “work” friends. A work friend, using the true definition of the word is a rare thing indeed.

Most work associates are very fickle, meaning, out of sight, out of mind. Still others are fake, having never truly liked you in the first place. These “friends” are just adept at making the best out of a bad situation. These are easier to move on from, because 9 of 10 times, they have allowed their façade to slip enough that you saw who they truly are.

It is very rare to find someone you work with who after the co-worker relationship ends, the friendship continues. I have a few friends that I no longer work with. I believe what makes us work is that we both want to continue. There is no desperate one sided clinginess, which can be both embarrassing and annoying.

So anyway, I’m moving on to a new team and a new project. I will be brave and evaluate my work relationships accordingly, working very hard not to become a stalker. I’m good at that. I have real talent for it. If you’re only pretending to like me, BEWARE. If I like you, I will try to be there for you, do little things for you, as a friend. Until that day comes when I realize its one sided and you realize I’m not worth the perks. As no one likes being used, I hope I discover this before you get tired of getting friend perks from me.

Will keep you posted on how this story turns out. Stay tuned.

Is That A... Gasp... Check?!

After patrolling aisle after aisle of produce, clothing, miscellaneous  home supplies I’m floating on a serious high. Feeling my Zen, my mojo, my whatever. I’m moving like a ninja, stealthy, dodging carts driven by toddlers, avoiding collisions with distracted granny’s. I am on my ISH! Mentally I calculate the length of the lines while also figuring up the amount, with taxes, of my purchases. I am multi tasking like a Sonofabitch.

I make my decision, push through with a smile, come to a halt in the line and…. Feel the bottom drop out of from beneath my feet. What the what? What is that little notebook, those tiny sheets of paper that you are happily scribbling on. It can’t be a… gasp… checkbook?! I mean who does that? I feel pieces of my life slipping away and think, not again! No more.

No more will I stand idly by while life is stolen from me by such a one as this. Indignation rises up in my breast… How dare you?! I will not take this. Two steps forward… Scurvy bastard… Slowly puts my purchases on the belt, adding the divider with a little click of irritation. Standing in that line I declared Revolución!

The time is now for us. We, the  cash toting, debit and credit card swiping, time saving, in and out, bad mo… shut yo’ mouth! The time is now that we should rise up against the shackles of paper checks. Those vile little sheets of paper  holding some oblivious soul hostage. Those halting progress in the checkout, proud of their little ledgers, their silly questions ringing like a spike in your ear. “Do I need to write anything?”

We glare and  make unflattering comments in our head. Our expression becomes corrupted from the moment that tiny notebook clears their person. Time slows down to nanoseconds, each a flick, a lash flicking across our consciousness. A rush of air swirls, fills your ears, like the ocean. Our pupils dilate in disbelief as we are transported to the past faster than Marty flipping McFly.

Our lips clamp tight to hold back the venom tickling our lips. Words of angst and disdain screaming through yur brain. Our fingers grip at the buggy handle, hoping to hold it still against the overwhelming desire to drive the cart into the jovial check writer’s flesh.

Why are you doing this to me, we wail in our head. Why, why, why?! Swipe your card, swipe your frigging card! They turn benign eyes to us, smiling with innocence like they had not wasted life that could never again be recaptured.

Our skin is flushed, feeling like a victim of a kidnapping. The cashier is the hostage negotiator, verifying the funds transfer for our release. Our eyes are now glued as that slip of paper is sucked in, spit out, sucked in, spit out. Little words scrolling across the back, a covenant with the store and the Neolithic asshole who gave it to them.

When they slowly push the cart away, a heavenly choir sings. The sun pushes past the clouds and the rushing leaves my ears. This is not over. Another day we will war, nemesis. You, I and that little notebook. And on that dark day, I will be the victor.

Enigmatic Expressions: Love And Fidelity

Enigmatic Expressions: Love And Fidelity

Tax Free Weekend

Apparently my definition of what is a school supply and the rest of the world's is entirely different. No, I don’t have children about to return to the echoing halls of education, but you know, its freaking tax free!!! So I drag myself to the local Wal-Mart. I could’ve left my car home and walked, the lot was so full. Of course, I wouldn’t have made it to Wal-Mart at that point, and died from heat exhaustion as it was over 100 degrees, but I digress.

I needed new surge protectors, so I’m like it’s tax free. I think I even shrugged. So I happily grab two surge protectors, smiling sweetly at the woman glaring at my buggy. (I’m working on this kill them with kindness instead of a dirty look thing. Will keep you posted how that works out for me.) I move along to the men’s section to grab some A line T’s (aka wife beaters, o dawgs, ribbed tanks, whatever) I love them and my nieces love to steal them.

I was actually on the phone with my niece when I was grabbing them and threatened her and her sibs’ life if they touch the new ones. They can wear the old, dingy ratty ones. Anyhoo, I mentally calculate how much money I have on me and my method of procurement as I join the line that starts almost in automotive, and smile serenely at nothing. This is a lot better than glaring malevolently at everything, which I have been known to do in long lines. (also working on patience. Yes, I’m flawed.)

I get to the front of the line and want to do a touchdown dance, because I lived and did not mortally offend anyone, or send any small children running screaming through the store. I respond to the nice cashier when she greets me politely. She rings up the surge protectors… and things go horribly awry. Wtf? $24x2 is $48 without tax, not that odd fifty something you are trying to charge me.

Excuse me, pleasant cashier lady, why are you charging me tax. No returned smile, so my smile wilts, or at least becomes something not nice. Those are not tax free. Soooooo, if I buy a computer, its tax free, but I can’t protect said computer from destruction with a tax free surge protector? Wtf? I briefly contemplate getting them both, then remember, I only need one. I was getting 2 because it was FREAKING TAX FREE! So I tell the cashier lady I only want one.

She throws me a dirty look. I avoid the eyes of the mob seething at my back, though I can feel the heat of their thoughts. Move lady so I can buy this filler paper. They act like their cart of school supplies is a burnt offering to satisfy the Summer vacation gods and without them, they’ll be stuck with the people they spawned for another three months.

Whatever. I’m not getting them both, so I guess we’ll  all learn patience together. Class in session. So I return my thoughts to the now disgruntled cashier. I advise her I’m going to pay for the one surge protector with my card. She continues doing what she’s doing. I’m like, so you mad now? I pantomime as though she is deaf and say give me my cash, I’m paying with my card. The unflattering moniker I started to add, I bit back. I could almost feel the salty rush of blood, because it was almost as painful as biting my tongue clean through.

I am a novice at this whole being nice thing. You want to test professionals, not newbies. She slams my cash onto the little check writing stand (another blog about that thing later) and re-scans the lonely surge protector. I then procure my T’s and move out of line with a snarky, you too, in response to her grumbled have a nice day. I wouldn’t run to my car, knowing animals scent fear, but I did pick up speed, lest the disgruntled soul behind me decided to attack.

But I yet live. I live to shop another day. Moral of the story? Know what the freak is tax free on tax free weekend to avoid inciting a riot.

Love And Fidelity

Recently I began ruminating on the inner workings of a relationship. There are several points that filled my thoughts; fidelity, trust, love, convenience, pity, desperation, hope. All of these things intermingle, and to a large degree, overlap in a relationship. Questions beg answers. Foremost in thought, if you love, are you then faithful. Is fidelity and love synonymous.

There are many who would say the answer to that is no. I will say that in a dating relationship, wherein you are not married, you hope for fidelity even as you bask in love. When dating demanding fidelity is like a restaurant demanding an 18% gratuity on a party of 8 or more. It sounds good, but not really enforceable.

When looking at marriage, you have to remember that a man does not commit adultery, as in the eyes of God, he is free to do as he pleases. So even in marriage, fidelity is a good idea, but still up for debate. At least for the man. For the woman, it is mandatory, because it is the woman who commits adultery. This whole debate surrounding marriage is contingent that you are truly married.

The Word of God says, “What God has joined together…” (Mark 10:9) I’m not preaching, I’m just asking, Are all marriages made in Heaven? I would hypothesize that quite a few marriages are made in the bedroom. Some marriages are made, or joined, if you will, over an EPT. So then can you require fidelity in a marriage of convenience? In a marriage of lust or desperation?

Operating on the premise that all water will eventually reach its level, there is someone out there for everyone. If through impatience, desperation and/or lust you join forces with what is not for you, problems will ensue. It’s like forcing two similar puzzle pieces together. You can get them to connect, but the alignment is askew and it throws off the whole picture you are trying to create. Whereas, if God joins you, though the pieces may be fit differently, the alignment is perfect, complete and strong.

I have said all of this as the groundwork for my question, Is love and fidelity synonymous? Do you believe that simply by reason of love, you will then be physically and emotionally faithful to your partner. The Bible (1 Corinthians 13:4-8) defines love as charity in a pure sense, a setting aside of oneself for the greater good of the whole. Webster defines love as both a noun and a verb. The verb offers love as to hold dear and cherish.

Fidelity is defined biblically as an aligning with God’s salvation and saving yourself from worldly lusts. Webster defines it as the quality or state of being faithful. So then, if a man or woman can come home from an emotional or physical attachment and take nothing from their wife or husband, with whom they were joined by God, are they faithful? Are they truly in love?

There is a school of thought that if the quality of life and love doesn’t change at home, then what is truly lost to your love? Because this is a blog and not a newspaper article, I’ll state opinion. I have never been married nor have I ever been in love, not as either Webster or the Bible describe. I have felt desire and a need for human companionship, beyond that of family and friends, but not love.

So saying, when I am blessed to be in such a state as the Bible describes, where love is charity. Where , as Webster says, love holds dear and cherishes, speaking of the verb here. I would have to opine that it would wound me beyond words if the object of such deep affection felt the need for extracurricular booty. This is based on me being aware of said extracurricular booty.

I have said often, I don’t believe.. Again I am single, never been in love, never married… I don’t at this juncture believe that if I were blessed with true love I would throw it away because my husband strayed. There. I said it. I would stay. Why? Because I’m not willing to give what’s mine away to some unscrupulous female who decided to sleep with my man. I’m not prepared to cede victory to a whore.

SN: In my mind, sleeping with a married man or woman makes you a whore. You may not receive currency as compensation, but you receive something that is taking away from that man or woman’s family. So, yeah, whore.

My other thought process regarding infidelity, is don’t let me find out. If you are bad enough to get some on the side without me finding out, fine. It is true, what I don’t know won’t hurt me. This means, no phone calls to my house, no missed appointments with me or our children, no diseases, no pitying glances thrown my way because everyone but me knows. No. That outside relationship better be a more guarded secret than who killed JFK.

If I found out, you ask? Smoke in the city. This doesn’t mean divorce, because if he’s who God placed in my life, I’m not throwing him away. I mean, if you dropped a check for a billion dollars in a big steaming pile, and it was probable you’d never get the issuer to write you another check, would you say forget it. That’s nasty, and walk away. Or would you say that’s my billion dollars and I’m going to do what needs doing to hold on to it?

Though I desire to have a man in my life, I don’t need one, so it’s not desperation. Rather it’s recognizing a gift and fighting for it. Before I knew I could write, I didn’t need to write, but now it is like heroin in my blood and I’ll fight for it. Likewise, my mate. Though unnecessary until he comes, once present, I will war to keep what’s mine.

Not everyone will agree. In fact most won’t. Pride rips into you and screams like banshees in your ear… You got played. What will people think if you stay?! Where is your pride, your sense of self-worth?!

Nothing occurs without purpose. There is a reason people are unfaithful. Getting to the root cause of infidelity, ripping the root from the earth and burning it forever, can save a relationship. But both parties have to want to save it. Everyone involved has to be willing to change and grow. Otherwise, it’s a wrap. Shut down production and move on.

In my opinion, fidelity is not synonymous with love. They are two things that unified can create a lasting and wonderful relationship, but they can exist separately. A person can be faithful to someone they don’t love for fifty or sixty years. That is a scary thought. Like being trapped in a prison where you can see what the free people have, but by sheer stubbornness, you will hold on to your cell. If it’s like that, I say pardon yourself, because God did not join you.

In closing, I would hope that every love experience is pure and wonderful, but realistically, it may or may not be. What you have to remember is what is right for you. What you can live with, without torturing yourself or anyone else. Wait for what is yours without settling for fools’ gold and hold tight to it. I am convinced that it will be worth it.

Petulance

Have you ever looked at someone and all you want to say is, "So you mad now?" Empathy, in that moment, sleeps. Stated with a degree of sarcasm it is still meant with sincerity. What the phuck is wrong with you? It would help if you  just said instead of pouting like a three-year old. Still you won't say and I'm left to wonder, to wade through your emotional mine field. Have you ever been here? This isn't any specific relationship. It can be a co-worker, a lover, a friend or relative. One moment you love life and the next, you have a thorn in your paw.

What to do? What are my options when an adult needs babying? I can't wipe your ass, or whatever else requires special attention. So I do what I can; I adapt. I prepare to be who and what is needed in that moment. The thing about petulance, is that it infects those who adapt. Pretty soon that person is "moody" around you because they don't know who they have to be in that moment for the petulant to have a good day. So they are quiet, waiting for a signal of what you need from them at a given time. The relationship becomes diseased by the pervasive moodiness of all involved.

Another problem with such unbalanced relationships is that one person knows and is involved with what is going on with their friend, while the enabler remains a mystery and has no clue how to change that. I mean, the relationship has been consummated on the bed of one persons needs. If you try to change the status quo, what happens? When your needs surface and want to manifest, they can't. So you suppress them while bitterness brews.

By definition of being an enabler, this imbalance is your fault. I blame you and I for devaluing my importance in the equation of our relationship. Petulance isn't just about what the petulant have done, but the self-esteem issues involved in those who indulge them. Why do we feel the need to indulge them? Not just being nice when someone is going through something, but doing back flips because of someone's varying moods. The question begs, how real is the friendship if one party must be handled like glass and the handler can never express themself. There is an awful level of selfishness and self-indulgence from both sides.

The petulant are selfish in a very obvious way. Those of us placating, we are selfish in a less obvious way. Rather than confront that person and create a healthy relationship , we wallow in self-righteous martyrdom, taking the easy way out. A better friend would be honest. A truer friend would say, I need more, rather than molting in self-pity at the sham relationship they find themselves in. There are no heroes or victims in this story, only selfish idiots tied in a symbiotic relationship of need. Largely unhealthy.

Decide not to be a character in this self-indulgent production. Be honest and true tonyourself and with those you claim to love. All involved will be much happier.

Why Can't You See Me

What if quakes never shook Earth and water never left its home?
What if planes didn't destroy towers and death tolls didn't rise by the hour?
What if tragedy never intervened?
Would you ever see me?

In the absence of travesty, I should call you Your Majesty.
When pain is mutual, we come together in a manner that is unusual.
Would that this unity could last beyond the memory of death and devestation.
Would that this new millinium could finally bind this nation.

Seems, however, that as soon as CNN moves on,
Bygones are no longer bygones and we go back to singing the same old song.
Hate, nigger, wetback, honkey, terrorist.
And yet we all cross arm over chest to the same flag.
We all wear the same uniform when we pledge.

Why can't you see me?
The artist, the friend?
Why can't you see your mother in me?
Why can't you show some of the mercy you would your daughter?

Why can't you see past my brown skin?
Why can't you see me?

Random Randomness

Have you ever felt so lonely that silence is like being stuck in a railway tunnel, its so loud and you just want to put your fist through something? I have. You just have to ride it out. Ride those waves and rejoice when it ends.

Criminal Decision

I live in what some may consider a small city. It wants desperately to be a big city, but it is not. There are people, rich, poor and other who want it to be a big city. The rich to be richer and the poor to be less so. In the absence of hope of being richer, the rich place their boot on the necks of the middle class. In the absence of hope for the poor, they place their sneakers on the neck of their fellow poor to middle class.

Those in the middle, just try to stay out of the line of fire. But at what point do we all stop being afraid, dust the sand from our hair and take a stand? There comes a point when people get tired. Tired of being afraid of having, to want anything. Afraid of the most common courtesy and how it can be misconstrued, because people are more like animals than humans. Beasts, worse than the most rabid dog.

When they get tired they rise up and woe unto those who have oppressed them. Woe unto the gun toting, doo-rag wearing, pants sagging, ebonic speaking, criminal minded oppressors. You don't believe me? You don't believe that the oppressed rise up, that they one day wake up and say, I'd rather die than live like this. Those same people who witness nothing, who huddle inside well before dark, afraid to be near windows, for fear of stray lead.

Those people eventually rise up. They take to the streets and throw rocks at tanks. When their friends and family are strung up, impaled on bayonettes, those victimized scream in the face of their oppressors and dare them to kill them. Charge them with their crimes and say "Kill me or set me free!" Revolutionary Emiliano Zapata rallied, "It is better to die standing than live on your knees."

Do you believe that? Do we, as a people, believe that? What is to be done when a parent says, my child will not go to that school, no matter what you say because I am not raising a criminal and in a den of criminals, he becomes prey? Who stands up for that paren? We cry for the system to intervene, but truly systems can only do so much. People and conscious change things.

When you say it is unacceptable for you to sell poison on my corner, because my tax dollars pay for this corner. When conscious says yes I saw something. And others' conscious voice joins yours. These oppressors are cowards and unity is what they fear, because they lack true unity. We have opportunity in adversity to join with those charged with our protection and say, Hey, I'll help you if you help us.

What's the alternative? Fear and further unrest. Fear breeds calamity and desperation. Is that what we want? To be afraid and desperate? To bring some hated evil down on ourselves or someone else because we are so scared. This is not a promotion to vigilantism, but for conscious. Speak up and demand justice and peace. You work hard for what you have, shouldn't you have peace in your home? Shouldn't your children be able to play in the yard you pay taxes on?

Every wannabe thug has made a decision. People can lament their home life and circustances until the cows come home. Their is no father in the home, they were beat, afraid. Whatever circumstance, they made a decision to go from oppressed to oppressor. They made the cowardly decision to stop fighting against their circumstance and submit to them. Rather than be part of the solution, they choose to be part of the problem.

For every young person who made that criminal decision, you are the enemy. Until you decide otherwise, we are at war, you and I. There can be no peace in fear. If it is your cause to make fear burn in my breast, it is my cause to see you caged like the ravening beast you are. If the choice be made between you and I, there is no choice. I win.

As someone who loves the youth and hopes for their brighter future. As a person who can see where this path leads for you, I can only hope you would turn back. I don't want you writing jailhouse memoirs about the horrors of the prison system. I don't want to see you struggling in a wheelchair to the welfare office to beg and be demeaned. I don't want to see your destruction.

Yet I see it coming. I see the vultures circling, waiting for what remains of your carcass. I see your family weeping as your blood stains concrete. I see you on the bench at the court house with your public defender in his J.C. Penney's suit telling the bleak tale of your future. I see your mother, angry, hard, sitting beside you, regret and harsh pride her mantle.

I see clearly the results of your decisions. I also see that every child born has a bright and promising future, whether he be born in poverty or with a silver spoon in his mouth. That child has to make a decision. Excuses masked as reasons, don't justify poor decisions. Choose life and good. Fight for them. Death and evil are the easy choices.

In The Name Of Jesus

In The Name of Jesus

Today, two mighty warriors met on the field of battle.

Good to see you, says our champion.

For indeed it was good that our adversary was recognized as such.

Swords lift in salute.

Innocuous words, and yet not flow one to another.

Yea, words that reveal trickery and deceit.

An absolute absence of fear in the face of absolute faith in He who spoke and made a promise to a people.

Where are you from?

In days past, the adversarial warrior may have been asked by another such champion,

From whence do you hail?

The answer is the same.

All over.

A roaring lion, to and fro, seeking only to destroy.

The adversary moves across the battlefield,

Dances a dance of wickedness and hatred.

Aye, for every other trick tried this day failed.

The adversary seeks our champion, but is denied his quarry.

Sheathing sword, our champion cedes the battlefield.

Not to the dark warrior, but to his troops.

There are other soldiers about.

It is they now who must prove steel to steel.

The champion gave over the battle to One greater than all.

It is He, we the remaining warriors, must see.

The adversary must sense the distrust,

Soldiers straining at invisible bonds, raring to break free.

To rip this diseased meat from our midst.

Hands reach for dagger as flesh rises.

Knowing…

Knowing as a stallion scents a hungry wolf,

That this one in disguise is not one of us.

Warriors move forward, characters in this great script.

Those not yet ready to lift sword are cleared from the battlefield.

The adversary moves about, cocky and arrogant.

The champion is gone, he thinks, leaving you sheep to the slaughter.

Drown in your fear and misery.

Knowing my father, today, will take this victory.

Your dagger will not help.

Your anger and bloodlust.

I feed, ye foolish, I yet feed!

But cooler heads prevail as one voice rises before it can claim what it will.

In the name of Jesus!

The sound of a mighty sword being unsheathed can barely keep up with the strike.

The sword remains up and at arms.

Shut up!

The pawn lashes out as the warrior delivers the blow to the chest.

The pawn fears as the adversary grows angry.

Calm settles the soldiers.

Following the example set,

Remembering scripture and prophecy being foretold,

Likewise, they pulled mighty swords from sheath,

The sound resounding throughout.

Shields are raised, battle cry uttered,

In the name of Jesus.

No other words needed,

No other sounds heard.

In the name of Jesus!

In the name of Jesus!

In the name of Jesus!

In the name of Jesus, this battle is won.

Warrior and pawn flee, having found soldiers inside of sheep in these women and men.

Petty enough to lash out, but already defeated.

In the name of Jesus, we the free who yet are not our own, have the victory.

Like warriors after battle we huddle, recounting the day’s events,

Remembering things forgotten.

The warmth of God’s love and oneness, pushes the ice from our hearts as adrenaline wanes.

Some taste the copper taste of fear, because we were almost too late.

Some for having stood at all.

We look to the hills, for truly this is the latter reign,

And we who remain must be ready to lift shield and sword.

Not only to take what is ours, but to hold on to what we have been given.

No more babes to teat.

We are warriors; we eat meat.

The battle is on and we must be ready to fight.

Standing strong as David, wise as Solomon, faithful as Abraham.

In this, we are more than conquerors.

The Stranger Inside Revealed

My last post was about me wrestling with this stranger within me. A stranger that tries, and too often succeeded, in vexing my spirit. The stranger that sets out to discourage me and set fear in my breast. Well, friends, I recognize who she is now. Recognition is a gift, the ability to recognize what a thing is. Recognize what a thing means to and for you. Thank You, Christ for the gift of recognition.

I, now, see her for the liar she is. The deceitful thief she shields. Within me, which is within my flesh, are two natures.The nature of my flesh is at war with the nature of my spirit. Where I would rise and triumph, my flesh brings fear and discouragement, procrastination. When I move into what God has for me, that other nature asks, "What can i do to destroy this? What is the best point of attack to stop this good thing?

So that nature creeps in, clouding my mind with all of the can'ts so that I can't see the cans. So what am I going to do with this information? I mean, is recognition good only for recognition's sake? I was so totally bogged down and beset, but didn't see any point of attack. So now, with the gift of recognition, able to see the enemy, now I must seek the point of my attack.

And I will attack. Someone told me today, a wise young minister, that we must go on the offensive sometimes. Take the steps of faith to move forward for a better life. A life more dedicated to God's purposes and to be a blessing to His people, my people. So, I must go on the offensive now with this other nature. It is important that she be weakened that I not be debilitated by her attacks. I can't really make her disappear, but I can lessen the impact.

So first, I must recognize-yes that wondrous word again- her methods when she attacks. Ok, first when I'm happy, she points out the bad. When I'm hopeful, she tells me why I should doubt. The difference now? As opposed to embracing or even entertaining those thoughts, I will rebuke those thoughts, combat them with the word of God and move on. The thing is, she's really very weak and only words. She can't move anything or touch me.

Now, don't get this wrong like she is a pushover, because she isn't. Those words can be a mother. The right word at the right time, can devastate you. But God's word is more powerful than she can imagine being. If you doubt it, let me tell you that my thoughts were so totally dark last night and I wasn't really any better by morning. But God. God knew what I needed and he delivered on it. With the wisdom He gave me, I can rejoice in what I now see.

This is so super exciting if I take it. This blog isn't just for you, it's for me also. For me mostly. I need to remember and I need to put into practice. Warrior mode is in full swing now. So to close, for now, let's get it. Seriously, the time is now for us to get what is ours and to move into the realm we should be in as children of the Most High. Let's get it.

The Stranger Inside

Its been a couple of weeks since I posted anything. During that time, I've had some ups and downs emotionally where I wonder who am I? I haven't figured it out yet, but I'm praying for God to reveal it to me. I often feel opposing thoughts of being too empathetic and bordering on sociopathic. I can be honest enough to recognize that this post is narcisstic. I often am too introspective, looking too deeply where perhaps I should be more shallow.

Too many days are spent with me feeling like an unwelcome visitor in my own body. Like I'm looking out the window, screaming, "Let me out of this loser prison!" Take 2 steps forward, the steps back are variable. There are days when I spend the whole day feeling positively fierce. Then I pass a window or a mirror and the stranger is quick to remind me who I'm not.

The worse part about the stranger? She makes me different around my friends. I wonder... What do you see in my? Why are you my friend? If I stop serving a purpose, will you leave? Do I serve a purpose now? If not, why not? You don't have to tell me how crazy, though I stumble over the word, this sounds. I know some people reading this will think, just get some counseling.

The fact is, I have some pretty wise friends, and I just can't get past the question, Why are you even my friend? to actually tell them how I feel. Also, friends are really quick to tell you why you're super awesome and why you shouldn't be feeling like you feel. They don't just listen, so they can't get to root cause. I can think of some causes, all day long.

They all start and stop with me. But so often the solution is within the problem. So my solution is within the thought that I suck, not in the fact that I do. I really don't suck. In a rational part of me I can recognize that I am a relatively good person. I'm smart and I have a good sense of humor. I'm a talented writer and I'm a good friend. Mostly.

I sincerely have to get over my hangups. The thing is, I know I'm not the only person with these types of thoughts and feelings. That's not why I'm composing this post, thought it can be a lovely side benefit. Essentially, the stranger is an interloper, an armed robber who should be put to death for breaking and entering my body, my life and every relationship I have.

Cocoon

My hope is that this be both cathartic for me and helpful for others. This post is about my journey to me. I never recognized me, who I truly am. In a lot of ways, I still don't today. I see things that people despised and disdained in me, then glimmers of what they appreciated. Those attributes that were and are still appreciated, I have found harder to accept, overshadowed by failings. 

I have friends who love me, I mean really love me, but in the back of my mind, I wonder why. I wonder, what will break this? What will I do to make them turn from me in disgust? I saw disgust growing up, so I know what it looks like. Not disgust like something is gross, but disgust like why am I being bothered? How did I ever get saddled with you? Sometimes I push, testing. "Is this it?" The straw that breaks the camels back?

I'm trying to get to a place where I love me unconditionally. That place where memories don't cause me to cringe and wince. Where I don't fear doing something ordinary to me and winding up alone. I know what it's like to feel alone. Having moved from that place to where I am now, I don't want to go back. I know, to a degree, why I feel undervalued.

Here's the part where I'm helpful. Make sure your children know that you value them, that they have worth. No matter what, try to show them that they have meaning to you. Recognize that they may be different, different from anyone you'll ever know, and show them that those differences make them special  and wonderful, not bad and unlovable.

Knowing how cruel the world is, we often try to change our children instead of embracing those things that make them extraordinary. We push them towards conformity, until one day they wake up and they don't know what is really them and what is who they have been pushed to be.

There are certain things I can recognize about myself. I know that I am intelligent, though I am intelligent in a totally different way than most people. I process things differently. I am extremely empathetic and a fixer, while not suffering self-pity lightly. I have been that pitiful person, and growing out of it, being blessed by God to grow to be better, want better, I know that there is nothing at the end of the dark pity rainbow but despair and failure.

While being empathetic, I am not an emotionally demonstrative person. I don't like to be touched-I can self diagnose that- and I don't like talking about emotions or myself much. I know, this blog appears totally narcissistic, but this is an ongoing effort to grow, while helping others. I feel trapped in this shell and I don't know how to bust free. So I put myself out there and hope that it helps someone else break free as well as me.

I'm very private and I like to be alone, while having the option not to be alone. I used to be overly concerned about what people thought about me, now I'm more like whatever. People thinking I was gay was a big button for me-don't act like your child is gay, or tell them people think it. Trust me, it doesn't help. Some things have to be handled more delicately.

I grew up my father's son more than his daughter. This was deliberate. See, my dad understood me, or at least accepted me, as I was. So I wanted to be the son I thought he wanted. I was interested in what he was interested in. I wanted to do the things a good son would want to do. Except I'm a girl, and when a girl starts behaving like a boy, then she's gay, right?

If I am, then I'm a gay man, cause I love...men. How confusing! Now I'm trying to embrace my femininity, but in the back of my head is this mocking voice, asking why? What do I hope to gain? I'm still not good enough. Back to the shell I'm breaking out of. I have created a prison and lost the key so no easy out. I think that God can break these iron bars; he's already helping me to catch glimpses of myself.

Sometimes I feel like an amnesiac, like Charlie Baltimore, who has been told who I am for years then one day I wake up and I'm somebody else. Don't do that to your kids; let them discover who they are with guidance, not a mold. I have the most amazing imagination, but I think as a child it was an embarrassment to my family, not a wondrous thing.

Now as an adult, I get paid for my imagination. People seek me out for being creative and different. I love being creative and different. I like being unpredictable and amazing even to myself. That's another thing. I'm better with strangers. Once you start breaching the outter circle, I'm waiting for you to hurt me. This comes from betrayal at a very young age by those you trust implicitly. Parents, don't violate your children's trust. It is fragile and though they may pretend to forgive, their subconscious.