tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-277574462024-03-05T18:35:00.028-05:00I Wish I Could Give You This Feeling"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."
-James BaldwinUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger313125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27757446.post-26583161778179577922019-09-08T17:31:00.000-05:002019-09-08T17:31:06.678-05:00RaceI've been running a race for 3 and a half years and it's almost over, and I am on the final stretch. My heart feels like it's about to explode. my head feels like it's floating. Everything hurts. It's all racing so hard. I don't feel like me. I don't feel like who I am, who i want to be or who I used to be. I feel detached from the world. and everything feels distant. Everything feels elusive. and I want everything to just pause so I can catch my breath. Drowning.<br />
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It feels like an exaggeration, but I almost drowned in a pool when I was 10. I was too stubborn to stay in the shallow end, when I knew I couldn't swim well enough... The plan was to hold on to the rope. but I went under and the water took me out too far and I couldn't' find the rope when I came back up. I remember feeling panicked, and gasping for breath, but probably most telling, and I remember feeling so stupid because I knew better. Why didn't I use my good sense? My brain in the midst of regret and shame while my body was gasping for air. Then as quickly as I lost myself underwater, I felt my feet touch the tile. It was over. But it's never over. That memory runs through my mind more often than it should 27 years later. In a montage of stupid choices I've made. and somehow I feel like I'm here, panicking right now, drowning, and just like before. it's my own fault. And even when I finally come up for air, I know that this feeling will follow me forever. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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“Why am I compelled to write?... Because the world I create in the writing compensates for what the real world does not give me. By writing I put order in the world, give it a handle so I can grasp it. I write because life does not appease my appetites and anger... To become more intimate with myself and you. To discover myself, to preserve myself, to make myself, to achieve self-autonomy. To dispell the myths that I am a mad prophet or a poor suffering soul. To convince myself that I am worthy and that what I have to say is not a pile of shit... Finally I write because I'm scared of writing, but I'm more scared of not writing.”</h1>
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I'm scared almost every time I pick up the pencil or pen, but I can't stop myself from doing it. Each time i sit thinking I should write, but I find myself hesitating, but I know that without writing, I won't be able to release the tension, the pressure of emotions that won't be okay until they spill onto the page. </div>
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I write to find my way. Through journals and letters, pages of poetry and prose, I have found a way to at least in some ways clear the cobwebs from my mind. I read and re-read what I write and in it I find corners of myself that would be so easily forgotten were they not marked with the permanence of the written word. </div>
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When I write, I understand how I feel and in so many ways I read back those thoughts and emotions in such an amazing way that is brilliantly poetic and so many times I impress myself. The fact that I've been writing about the depth of depression and anxiety and the way that it permeates every aspect of my life from my job to my body to my relationships and my life. It is so much of who I am. But those are the parts that I so desperately want to get rid of. How can you embrace the flaws that have affected your life so profoundly and that you know are not going anywhere?</div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It smothered me. It smothers me. I've been in therapy for 3 years. Under the care of an amazing therapist and a psychiatrist who keeps my care consistent. It is amazing how difficult it is to be successful in life, and successful in self care and be aware of mood swings, ups and downs and round and rounds that come with life. I want all of the pieces to fall into place. I want the symptoms to not affect my mood or my cravings. I want to be able to breathe easily and freely. without anxiety also knocking at my door. Knocking at my door. always knocking at my door. waiting outside. hanging in the driveway. Casing the joint, making the rounds looking for weakness.. for that moment when I am not tending to myself. When I am too tired, or too stressed, or hungry, or dehydrated. When I have too many things to do, when I am normal sad..its waiting right there to invade. to break in. to break into my life. and to break into my life. and to stay for as long as it wants to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Its my job to practice active self care to prevent it from overtaking me. From making it a worse thing that It is.. to stop it from taking root. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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<!-- END DO NOT MODIFY --></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27757446.post-80429840459335830442015-10-04T19:10:00.000-05:002015-10-04T19:10:03.110-05:00This is what depression feels likeYesterday, I slept almost all of the day, I woke up at 10:00 because I had to, and went back to sleep at 11:00 until about 1:35 and then back to sleep until 3. I only woke up because I had to go out last night, but I wanted to sleep the rest of the day away. I went out last night and felt like a hermit in my shell, until my drink came. I went out but wanted to be home every minute. I woke up early today to cook, and found some calm in that, knowing that it was good for me, but even on this celebratory weekend, I found myself disconnected, all of my feelings on mute.. all of my emotions away. far away. numbness has become my friend.<br />
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My depression becomes something that I stifles my energy, and so being on, takes everything out of me, and I just want to be alone.. any buzz of my phone feels like dread, because I dont want to deal with whats on the other end. I want to be a good partner, and a good friend, but Im trying to be good to me. Ive isolated myself for the past few months, and that's all I want to continue to do but I know it wont make me feel better. but at least it wont make me feel worse.<br />
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I sit looking for solace, but I can't find it within myself. Its all muted, stifled. numb.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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It's hard for those outside of the school house to understand the ebbs and flows of a school year. Each day is not the same, each week brings a different vibe. providing crests and valleys that the teachers must deal with. </div>
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<br />The end of the school year means finalizing grades, which means parents will email every week to ensure that their child has every opportunity to get that A or B. Forget the 35 other weeks of the year when turning in daily homework would have been great. </div>
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It also is the busyness of every single activity known to man. This week we have Field Day, Career Day, a field trip, spring awards ceremony, a couple of concerts and all that leading up to final Exam week. All coordinated brilliantly with to coincide with the weather getting warmer and Spring Fever peaking in the middle school minds. </div>
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And none of my summer clothes fit.<br />
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So today, after deciding to forego driving to church and deciding to listen to it on podcast, I got on my work out clothes (some of which also don't fit)(and when spandex doesn't fit..its sad). and I took my dog for a 45 min walk. It wasn't brisk, there as no jogging, but it was 45 mins of activity. 45 more than yesterday.<br />
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I came back and drank some water and had some yogurt. I am going to be mindful of what I put in my mouth and purposeful about my body getting exercise. There is no longer any excuse.<br />
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I've found myself not looking at myself in the mirror, unless it's just my face. I've found myself in an odd back and forth with body acceptance and avoidance and sadness, and joy. I finished a half marathon a few weeks ago in 3.5 hours. I danced all night long at a wedding yesterday. I get out of breath coming up the steps.<br />
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I have to make sure I am taking care of me. Because I am TOTALLY sick of hearing this song everytime I get dressed.<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpM1YTfzFeM">Muffin Top </a><br />
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But today I worked out... now it's time to clean up and get ready for spring break to be OVER.<br />
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I'll be updating this just for myself as an accountability tool.<br />
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I've made it clear to everyone that I feel this way, but I also wouldn't trade places. I love my life and I'm proud of what I've been able to accomplish with the persistent push from my mother. (Our father died before I started high school). My mother knows. My brother knows. Er'rybody knows. Because of that I've prayed that God will only bless me with girls. I sit in trepidation thinking about my life a a mother, and worry that I'd be too hard on my sons. I look at the little boys in my classroom and often think... what the hell is going on inside of you guys? then drop em off at football camp.<br />
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Then... George Zimmerman was acquitted, and people rejoiced.<br />
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As I processed the loss, I realize that the world doesnt care about black boys. They talked about how Trayvon wore gold teeth and had some minor shit at school dealing with marijuana. Seemingly forgetting that he was a kid, who was murdered.<br />
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At that moment I realized why we must love our black men in ways that the rest of the world does not need. We must love them because when they go out into the world, the hostility, the disgust, the fear, the condemnation, the violence that they face is palpable, and accepted.<br />
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They have to learn different lessons. I may be black, but I am not a threat. Nobody worries about me walking down the street. White men don't see me as a criminal. I may be a stereotype, a statistic, a welfare mother, a gold digger, a hood rat, someone educated, but I'm not a threat to their manhood. Thus, I will never face the police stops, or the profiling. No one holds their purse, or blames me for every crime. Most police APBs don't describe me.<br />
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And for these black men who wake up every day trying to just live a regular life, but knowing that their guard must be up, that they must be alert. That they must hold their tongue and swallow their anger when accused of something they did not do, or when they are shoved to the ground for probably clause. They need love. So I'm glad we love them. I want to hug every little black boy I've ever taught and tell them, I don't understand your anger, but I understand WHY you are angry and I want you to know that I cannot change it. I can't change the world. I can't fix it for you. But I will support you through it. Because when the world doesn't support anything black men do, unless its the brute strength of a buck, how can we not step in as their sisters, mothers, cousins, aunts, neices, and say, I love you and I've got your back. With me you're safe.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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You are in love with a man who probably isn't ever going to be yours. We have all been there. We had that love that took our heart and turned it colors, that made the blood pump stronger, that increased our capacity to be and feel anything more than we ever thought life could offer. Yeah.. we all had that.. but after get dicked over for a year or two, most of us ended that shit and got over it. </div>
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But no, you love Fitz so much. Alright and it's looking like you might get him (after an election cycle) (despite the fact that you have mad people out to ruin you) but that's neither here nor there huh? You are going to win like Aunt Vivian's sister and her white hubby on Fresh Prince... or will it be more like Trina and Gabe from Braxton Family Values... what is a win for you? </div>
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True. You also are SOOOOOOO in love that we come to find out that you are fucking everybody. Literally.. You're screwing your ex-fiance, who you already toyed with.. and you then you screwed him and screwed him over... cause of a whisper of a promise from half assed Fitz. </div>
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THEN you screwed Jake who was sent to get in between you and Fitz!! You fell for it.. and did it on tape.. because as a fixer you'd never do any real bug sweeps of your HOUSE! Would you? Ohh no, because that house of yours is only for sad sack eating of popcorn and wine, private meetings with people who are all about the end game and not really caring about you.. and screwing every guy with a title. </div>
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Then, you didn't see David coming for you... REALLY? You ruined his life! Just like you ruined Redhead's life.. and you ruined Quinn's life, and you ruined Melly's life and Fitz's life.. and wait.. yeah.. You only fix shit you ALREADY FUCKED UP!!! </div>
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I'm so sorry Olivia, that your daddy walked out on you/didn't pay enough attention to you/was never there/worked too much/ doesn't love you the way every little girl needs to be loved... but seriously.. You need to do more to heal yourself than swim in a pool and look fabulous. </div>
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Cause right now.. you need some sholnuf real talk.. because something isn't right. I know ALOT of black people, successful and not.. and I don't know a SINGLE one who wouldn't have had a cousin/sister/auntie calling about that bullshit interview with Melly... to tell you for the 200th time.. Stop fucking the president. You are not the First Lady.. you are a 2013 Sally Hemmings. (Sally got a trip to Paris though, right?) </div>
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Womp. And I can't imagine that you have any soul if you can look at all of those people you have ruined and live with yourself. seriously. maybe that's why you keep breaking stuff. you're broken. I'm sure Pope & Associates has AMAZING mental health benefits. Use them.<br />
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All my love. </div>
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But according to other sources, this is causing me problems in my life because there are some things I can't get out of.. like errands! I want to just do stuff that I want to do, and find other people to help with the other stuff.. whatever... this sounds stupid typing it.. but whatever. I'm going to work out! SOmething I don't want to do... but for the record.. I am doing it! </div>
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1. shoot the hooch<br />
2. Braves Game<br />
3. Movie at Central Park<br />
4. Etowah Indian Mounds<br />
5. I'm going to see Aziz Ansari on June 20!!!<br />
6....<br />
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Mind you I'm still trying to finish my 101 in 1001 days.. which I think I have a good shot of getting all the important stuff done that isn't money dependent! <br />
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Let's do it girl!! You might make me stick in Atlanta longer than the 4 more days I was planning!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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Anyway. I have official insomnia. In a way I've never had it before. usually my body is tired but my mind is racing... now my eyes are tired, but my everything else is pretty okay.. if this were summer break, Iwouldnt give a shit.. but because tomorrow is MONDAY... im annoyed. What's racing through my mind? Happiness... no really how I'm pretty happy.. like accepting life as it is.. doing what I need to do to make my life what it should be.. Enjoying everything that I can do and that I can be.. and just doing it for me.<br />
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I also realized that I can find closure on most things.. just not love.. There is no such thing as someone I have loved and lost... I mean the person I've lost... but the love lives right there in my heart waiting to beat itself into my soul and being when i'm just trying to take a damn nap! So... i gotta figure that out.<br />
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I have a pretty intense workout schedule on the horizon with a race to the top of the 191 Peachtree Tower building in atlanta.. and then I have a 5k on the 12th that I'm super excited about. Susan G. Komen gets me going like no other event.<br />
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:-) And i'm learning to play tennis next Saturday.... so I'm annoyed I can't sleep. Annoyed that I didnt quite clean up as much as I thought I would today..<br />
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BUUUUUT Everything is pretty cool..<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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<!-- END DO NOT MODIFY --></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27757446.post-20923915279180213692011-11-04T21:07:00.000-05:002011-11-04T21:07:37.430-05:00...Sometimes I don't want to talk to anyone.. I don't mean communicate. I mean talk. I literally don't want to open my mouth and have to say words. It's the weirdest thing.. we can text, gchat, email, facebook.. tweet.. hell write notes back and forth.. but I just dont have the energy to talk to you or listen... maybe my auditory system is just in overload and needs a break... anyone else ever feel this way?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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Ha... This has been the past 3 weeks. And yes Ms. Smith. I am done complaining about being single. Here are some notable moments... </div>
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1. "I have to push it back, I forgot Dell was coming over to fix my labtop." <div>
2. " I guess I should put on some deodorant.. I usually don't wear it because it clogs my pores." </div>
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3. While dressed in footie pajamas with a teddy bear at a Halloween party at a club... "I'm dressed as my inner child." </div>
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4. We order the same thing..the bill is 14.69.... I place down my card.. you give me 7 dollars. </div>
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5. Halloween party invite.."We will provide the food.. Bring a case, bring a bottle ect. Do not come empty handed." </div>
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6. Me: "What are your thoughts on Occupy Atlanta." You: "Never heard of it." </div>
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7. "You can't disappear when I need your help with my Algebra class. It's the last class I have to take to finish my associates degree." </div>
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8. "I'm fighting the urge to be a hoarder. I have to force myself to throw things away." </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">On Friday, a friend was in town and she called me to get together. Where are we going? I thought.. ATL has some of the finest clubs in the country, surely we will be hitting up some hot shit. Apparently, not.. I was accompanying her to a trip to Follies, on Buford Highway. Follies? Hmmm. Yes, it was a strip club. So, because she is my homie from way back, before I had degrees and shit, I am definitely going to go. I'd prolly go anywhere to kick it with her, and a strip club could prove interesting. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">As I'm getting dressed, I'm thinking of what to wear, and I end up throwing on a t-shirt and jeans cause I mean.. like anyone will be looking at me anyway. On the ride over, I'm thinking about all of the TV footage I've seen of strip clubs, from music videos to movies, and all I can think is it might not be so bad to see some chics with bad ass bodies, taking off their little costumes and swinging up and down poles. This might be titillating to say the least. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">When I arrive, there is a valet (wtf). Why does Atlanta have to make everything a damn cottage industry? I can park my own f-in car. I have a license. But whatever.. So I pull up and he says.. "Uh, you got a male escort? Cause I doubt they gone let you in if you aint got a male escort." How sexist is that? Like I couldn't of my own volition want to see some sexy ladies? Whatever. I tell him I got a friend inside, he commands me to call him if I want any chance to get in. So I call my homie, she comes out with one of the male friends that dragged her there.. and I get into the club. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I walk through the doors, and immediately think I must have walked in on the set of a BET Uncut video. I mean its just naked and half naked chics everywhere.. Nothing is sexy, nothing titillating, nothing I wanted anywhere near me. Ever. Immediately I understood why I couldn't come in with an escort... I might be an escort trying to take some of the change away from these ladies... Everywhere I look someone has a neon or flourescent costume moved up or down, depending on what the guy was paying to see. There was a huge runway in the middle of the club with three poles on each side and the women there were not in anyway athletic or performers.. It was just ass and titties shaking and bouncing in the face of whatever man had the money.. Maybe the saddest part was that there were so few men there who were offering dollars... so it just seemed...depressing</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">As my friend and I sat at the bar catching up, we tried our best to not show any judgment in our eyes.. not to look shocked or surprised at the lap dances, half nakedness or obscene booty shaking around us. "Just look like you are enjoying the show." It's hard not to look at someone with sorrow, when they are trying to make money and no one is paying.. its like being at an open mic, where someone is singing but no one is listening. Just plain embarrassing. </span></div>
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My mom told me don't give too much of yourself or you will be taken for granted. Hold something back so that you don't give it all away. I don't know a gray area where just a little can show, while the rest is hidden away. I don't know a place where only a bit of my vulnerability will show. I wish I knew how. I wish I didn't want to fall so deep into a safety net and I could carry myself. I wish I wasn't so afraid to brave the inner parts of my soul so much that I needed someone else. I wish I could bust the windows out of the car and walk away with anger and rage. Instead, I sit thinking of the shame. The little part of me that wants so much to make things right, but i know doing so would make me lose myself. I know that it's all about me because I have the pain so deep that I looked to you to heal. I wish I was able to face those demons earlier, because maybe... no there are no more what ifs. It's over and it's done. The doors and windows are closed. I don't think I could live with me allowing you to treat me the way you did. When I thought I was a priority, I wasn't. But I can be my priority. I will be my priority and keep on moving. Keep on being me, fully and without any shame. I wish there was somewhere else I could place the blame. Because I want to keep on loving you...but our definition of love is two different things. i'll accept that it's over, and let you off the hook. I wish I was writing shiny new pages, instead of being forced to close another chapter in this book.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">Actually, I am soooo glad I closed that damn book and donated to the goodwill, so someone else could give it a good home... I'm so grateful for the lesson I learned and for the person I was able to become being just who I am.. I am soooooo glad that I got to be me cause I am sooo awesome and would never have been able to do that with your judgment and condemnation and your dishonesty.. So thank you.. and thank you too :-) Cause I'm feeling great... and you weren't that great in bed anyway :-)</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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There are several fads that should have died by now... but, somehow, they still manage to be a part of our daily lives. They creep up on us when we are unsuspecting.. as we go through the minutia of our daily business. Like a flash of light, a thunderbolt in the sky, the remind us how no matter how hard we try to fight it... we cannot escape the bigness of popularity.<br />
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1. Cornrows on grown ass men:<br />
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<a href="http://americansportsblog.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/a-seemingly-happy-allen-iverson-introduced-the-detroit-media-having-just-been-acquired-by-the-team-from-the-denver-nuggets-in-exchange-for-point-guard-chauncey.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://americansportsblog.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/a-seemingly-happy-allen-iverson-introduced-the-detroit-media-having-just-been-acquired-by-the-team-from-the-denver-nuggets-in-exchange-for-point-guard-chauncey.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 408px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 594px;" /></a><br />
2. Way too personal facebook/gchat/social media statuses<br />
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Real Example: Listen M'FER INTERNET CHEATING IS STILL CHEATING!!!!!!<br />
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Really? do we really need to know your husband is cheating on you with some broad from the internet.. and that he's disputing that it's really cheating, cause his sex text (fb messages) weren't really that serious?? I mean C'MON... Save yourself the embarrassment and keep your pride... We aren't interested... and I'm just laughing at you and then Hiding you cause I dont need that kinda drama in my life!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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My natural curiosity leads me to wonder why most things are the way they are, from the flowers blooming to how hurricanes form, to whether animals get as lazy during rain as most humans do. </div>
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I also ask Why a lot when it comes to people acting the way they do... as if the Why will change the I'm pissed portion..</div>
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Well I'm done with that... I am going to control my brain to no longer entertain questions of why... Why was she funny acting? Why doesn't she speak? Why can't she be courteous and call? Why is she such a bitch? Why does she say one thing and do another? </div>
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Why? Why? Why? That question is dead to me.. The next question is... What am I gonna do about it? If the answer is nothing.. keep it moving.. on the next one... if its something.. then make that happen.. but the why is foolywang.. and I'm over it! </div>
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But it also meant that my birthday parties always happened, I got new shoes and clothes as scheduled and I was rarely left to know that disappointment was a reality... It makes sense that as an adult the one emotion I have struggled with the most has been disappointment... Well I finally found the cure for it...<br />
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Cussing bitches out... <br />
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I have decided that in, this, my 29th year, I am going to just go off on hoes... If you do me wrong.. you'll hear it clearly and you'll know.<br />
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I'ma just let you know how trifling I think you are, how stank your attitude is...and how wack you are so that we can then just keep it moving... either you'll be with me or not<br />
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If you dont wanna make the proper adjustments then roll out.. I got 99 problems and a friend aint gonna be one.. I'll take drama from my girl, i'll even deal with that shit from my mama, or my family... but somebody else? hell to the naw..<br />
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In the words of Martin.. Get to steppin!<br />
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i stopped taking my happy pills and the intensity of my thoughts has returned. Im not sure if this is good or bad. I find myself wanting to have long intimate conversations. It's like an attic or a basement has been reopened in my psyche and some of the things that have returned to me are treasures and i treasured them... and then there are cobwebs and some junk that needs to be thrown away...<br />
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So, do i keep the attic open or close the door and return to a balanced state..<br />
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im not sure. im certainly not sure.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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Sooooo when I am at the grocery store behind people with WIC or foodstamps..<br />
When I hear on the radio about programs where people can get a cellphone for free...<br />
When I hear about programs where people can get low cost computers and internet...<br />
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It sends me to a dark place.. a dark place that i am not proud of.. that I am trying to stop myself from going to... it makes me feel like a damn republican. and I dont like that at all... But the libraries aren't open on Sunday, I haven;t gotten a cost of living increase in YEARS... I have furlough days.. meanwhile rent is going up, gas is going up.. food goes up... I could use a foodstamp. but I am grateful that these foodstamps are there for the children because it is criminal for them to go hungry...<br />
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convoluted yes.. but my emotions and my thoughts about all of this are all over the place... i'm getting them to the right side... i promise.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- Start Bravenet.com Service Code -->
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