So. . .

***Originally posted on my Yahoo 360 blog Christmas Day. . .



Christmas was good. The same as every year. The sibs played with their toys all day, and I ate too much. I watched the Heat/Lakers game, and old Christmas episodes of 227 and The Simpsons. It was a good day.

My Cavs beat the Bulls tonight. . .yeeeeeeeea boy.

I'm not big on New Year's resolutions. People make them, and they are usually forgotten by the third week of January. I've done it before. I've made lists, long ones that seemed rational, but I could barely remember what was on them. I did keep my promise to workout. I'm more content with looking forward to the new year with a sense of optimism and just going from there.
I put aside my writing for a little bit. I had so much studying to do this semester, that my writing seemed like a chore. Anyone who writes with passion should understand how scary that is. My stories were becoming like chores so therefore, I haven't really written anything in about two months. I have so many ideas in my head now, so I guess I'll get on it soon.

I had this whole blog about people who lack tact, but I deleted it. I decided that I'm not really caring what people say to me, or how they say it. I want respect, but very little fazes me these days. I'm currently in a stage where I am listening to that little voice inside, and going with the gut, instincts and shit like that. I was all set to be pissed over some comments my ex who lives down the hall made about me, but then I decided that it really didn't matter. I could have told him about himself, but he knows he was wrong. I could have launched into a tirade about all the things wrong with him, but I wasn't on it. I wanna say that in 2006. . .I AIN'T ON IT!!! But hell, why wait?

I talked with one of my oldest friends a few days ago, and he tells me how he and another friend nicknamed me "Sweetface". He claims that when people first meet me, they think I'm young and naive. They think I'm too nice to let people know the deal, or too nice to see the truth. Maybe I won't mind this young face when I'm 40, provided that it's still here. So does this mean I need to toughen up? Nah, I'm pretty hardcore already. Should I work harder to prove my edge to people? Nope. You know why? Because I AIN'T ON IT!!! All I can say is don't let the sweet face fool you. That's it.

Ahhh, felt good to ramble for a bit. . .Peace, y'all.

Truth. Secrets. Apologies

**Originally posted on my Yahoo 360 Page.


Secrets. Truth. Apologies.

I think we hold secrets in that don't necessarily need to be kept. Just one (or two, or three, etc) more things that we bury deep inside of ourselves, we find solace in convincing ourselves that it's irrelevant, but in truth, we are slowly dying. . .

Isn't that scary?

I've said, 'it's killing me to keep this secret' too many times before, and I'm starting to believe that it really can kill you to hold things in. I used to feel a real need to have a secret. People would divulge juicy secrets to me, and I'd either keep them or spill them at my own discretion. Of course I'd deny being the squealer if it ever got back to the person. I'm sorry for that.
I've lied at times, horribly to get what I want in every area of my life, whether it be from a man, a sibling, my mother, or any other relative. NO, I never lie to other relatives because I don't want or need them to give me anything. The relationships have been strained for years for a variety of reasons, and I don't know who needs to mend things.

My mother has made me lie. I resent her for that. I don't want to make it seem as if she's ruined me for life, but over the past few years, she's really made decisions that I don't get behind, yet I give support because bottom line, that's my mother. We're supposed to honor our parents, and so I do.

Can you honor without respecting? Nope. Honor is basically a show of respect. So I guess I don't honor my father, because I can't respect him. I think about the things I've dealt with because of him. He has abandoned his children and only thought of himself. I used to cry and wonder why he didn't love me, if there was something I could do to make him love me. I realize that he didn't come from a place of love, because his father wasn't there for him, and his people aren't the most affectionate. So once again, here's another young woman scorned by her daddy, that has tried to find all the things she needed from him in others. (Damn, listen to "Father in You", on Mary J. Blige's new CD Breakthrough. It's all in there.) I used to think, "how can a man who helped create me, not love me? And if this man, whom I eerily resemble, whom I am a part of, the second child from his loins, cannot love me, then what man could?" It affected me more than I ever realized. As I grow older, I realize what the lack of a daddy does to a girl.

Men lied to me, cheated on me, even stole from me, and I've done the same as a sort of revenge. The problem was, I wasn't doing these things back to the same people who did them to me. But inside of my sick little heart I was happy. NOTE: When I say stole, I am not necessarily referring to material possessions, I am also referring to things such as my innocence, my trust, and my love. Taking advantage of the caring nature of a person is a crime in itself.
I have to admit that I have said and done certain things to people for my writing. I know my power not only as a woman, but as an intelligent, creative, and persuasive woman. I've dragged men through encounters or relationships with me just so I'd have a good writing experience. I used to laugh it off with a friend of mine and say, "What the hell? It's for the book." But in reality, the experiments and ideas began outweighing the book. I was writing less and plunging deeper into this self that I didn't respect. Mental manipulation was always my intention. I remember professing to love a certain person, and wanting a relationship with them just to see what emotions I could bring out, and that was wrong. I stroked his ego, and got some decent poetry from it, but it was wrong because I deceived this dude. So, when you read this, NO, you aren't being vain, this really is about you, and I truly regret what I did.

I'm in love with my whole heart for the first time in my life. It's a scary, sexy, amazing, blessed experience. There are so many obstacles in the way of this relationship, but there's so much potential there. Despite what others say, I cannot give up on this, and I would never forgive myself for not giving it every chance in the world. My heart is filled with optimism for the future.

The thing about this man is that, no matter how I've tried on a number of occasions, I cannot lie to him. I tell him when I haven't gone to the gym, when I'm not eating right, and when I get bad grades. I take his criticism, his praise, his bitchings, his moanings all in stride.
I have given him more of me than any other man. This has been my most special relationship. We laugh and joke and share things with one another that either no one or only a small few know. if it's going to hurt me, but help me, he does not hesitate to share it. I am working on being the same with him. I'm good, but still a work-in-progress.

You know, the early morning hours bring out the honesty in me, I should write like this more often. . .

The Predictable "What I am Thankful For" Blog

I was one of those kids who enjoyed this assignment in elementary school. I guess it was the early writer in me. Well, I'm grown now, but I'm going to do it anyways. I want to share the things I'm grateful for, as well as putting those things into perspective for myself. So here goes, y'all.

How you feeling?

Give thanks and breathe it in

Give thanks and breathe it in.

‘Cause we’re blessed.

I believe that part of being thankful is acknowledging the blessings in your life. I was listening to the song "Blessed 2 Have" on Floetry's latest Cd, and it really made me think.

Blessed to have another moment,

Some more time spent,

Some more minds to get into.

Blessed to have another daydream,

Another maybe, Yeah.

Those lyrics really made me think. It's been a rough year for me. I've dealt with a lot of different things with school and with my family, especially with my mother. I've lost good friends, or friends that seemed to be good. I've dealt with so much heartache and disappointment, almost too much for one person. That's where I have to stop feeling sorry for myself. As Christians we're taught that God never puts more on us that we can bear, so there it is. I had hard times, but I was HERE to have them, and that's what I'm thankful for. So many people lose their lives, or don't even live to see 22.

I may not have done all of the things I wanted, or done all of the things I needed to do, but I have tomorrow. That seems like a procrastinator's mantra, but it's true. I'm thankful I have some sort of freedom, and a relationship with my family that allows us to beef, fall apart, and then reconvene. I'm thankful for the real love I have in my life. (FINALLY)

Chances are there’s still a chance.

Forever is your state of trance.

Give thanks.

Breathe it in. . .

I have many opportunities that people before me did not have. Hell, there are people today who don't have the opportunities that I have. I think about that so much right now. I'm thankful that when I mess up, there's still hope for me. Some things are one shot, and some things are trial and error. I'm thankful for the options.

Enjoy your holiday.

Solitary Contentment to a Point. . .

So lately I've really been feeling like being alone. I think we all get like that from time to time. It's cool to hang out with friends sometimes, but it's also a very good thing to spend time with yourself. So many people don't understand that, but it's alright. I have one friend who I will refer to as "Vanity", who thinks that if I don't want to deal with her, then I must be either mad at her, or depressed. So any time I get in a mood where I wanna be all by my lonesome, I get voicemails from Vanity that go like this: "Hiiiiiiiii, Shatira, I hope you're well. you know you can talk to me, I hope you feel better soon." When in truth, I'm not sick, I'm watching a good movie, wearing a mint julep facial mask and eating ice cream. Or writing, or reading, or listening to music, or God knows what else. . .you get the point.

I think that if you constantly have the need to be around other people, then you have issues within yourself. Get to know yourself a little, you might be surprised what you learn.

I need my quality time with myself to gather my thoughts. I can honestly say i enjoy my own company. However, I got a little rude awakening yesterday about my personal down time.

My girl, my ace, my best friend who I have known damn near my whole life needed me. She had been calling since last Tuesday, but i kept putting off calling her. I was thinking it was something not important, but I was wrong. She called last night and had gone through one hell of an ordeal. I couldn't believe it when she told me. She was cool, but I know she was very hurt that I wasn't there for her. She has two other close friends, but they didn't support her in that, "I might not agree, but I love you" sort of way you need your girls to come through with.

So, my point in all of this is that even though it's cool to be by myself, it's also important to still be concerned about my friends. It only takes a few minutes to call and check up. For no good reason, I wasn't there for her, and she's been pretty good about coming through for me, so I need to be just as mindful of her situations.

Ahh,new revelation, the journey continues. . .

I'm Trippin' (Part Deux)

Song rolling around in my head: Here We Go Again, Trina ft. Kelly Rowland

*I am tripping on Pastor Mase's, no excuse me, Murda Mase's new song "Checks Clear". . .He's not serving God anymore, he's on G-g-g-g-Unit. I think that everyone has a special and unique relationship with God. This allows us to be the people we are destined to become. However, just a short while ago, Mase was walking around claiming to be devoted to spreading the gospel. He had the opportunity to reach out to people. His regression back to his old ways is probably all about ego. That Welcome Back album didn't sell like he wanted to do, so now he feels like he has something to prove. Whateva, Mason Betha. I'm not the only one trippin'. I damn near fell outta my chair when I heard this line in his song:
"Call Q, you know what to do, put Brandy on the phone, you know the hoe used to love me. . ."

*I'm trippin' on Trina's latest single, Here We Go Again. I've never really been a fan of her, yet oddly enough I've wound up with all her albums. I seen her on 106 and Park, promoting the video. I watched it and I wasn't really moved. Typical she-man man hating, don't need a man, kick em to the curb, etc. But I was walking home the other day and I was listening to the song closely and had a moment. A while back, I was that girl listening to the same bullshit over and over again. I was dealing with a dusty dude with an even dustier girl on him. I mean she was on him hard. Harder than I was trying to be. There was so much going on in that relationship that I couldn't see a way out. Like the song says, I wasn't trying to hear it anymore and I finally got fed up. I never thought a Trina song would affect me like this one did, so on that I am truly trippin'.

*I'm trippin' on how quickly the US went to Pakistan, but took so long to get into New Orleans. Think on that. . .AmeriKKKa at it's finest, y'all.

*I'm trippin' on the Japanese lady at the beauty supply store calling me homegirl. She don't know me like that.

*I'm trippin' on this gorgeous wooden bracelet I bought the other day for a dollar, and on the fact that I seen it on QVC for $20.

*I'm trippin' on the fact that I finished a 10 page paper at 5a.m. today. I have reached the pinnacle of my procrastinating and I am gonna put an end to it. . . tomorrow.

*I am trippin' on this lady at the grocery store yesterday:
Her (smelling like straight up liquor): Hey you usin' your food stamp care?

Me (Trying to be polite, because I was taught to respect my elders): No ma'am. I don't have one.

Her: Well, if I let you use mine, can I get the money from you? I'll give you a 2 dollar discount.

Me: No, that's alright. I'm using a bank card.

Her:Awww, c'mon, I need some money. . .

I was so outdone I left her standing there. If I'm out there like that when I get old, somebody please get me some help.

*I'm trippin' on the guy in a ski mask, a bad wig and a dress that approached my sister Free this morning at the bus stop. He told her some long story about how he didn't want his neighbors to know about his lifestyle, which was why he wore the mask. She was polite, and probably a little scared so she listened to his tale of conflicted identity, making her a better one that me. What I'm trippin on even more is the fact that the same guy used to approach my older sister and I when we were walking to junior high school over ten years ago. . .damn I'm getting old.

*Finally, I'm trippin on the last Zane book a read, her latest novel, Afterburn. I had sorta written her off, but something told me to give this book a try. Awesome read. I'm telling you. The end caught me off guard. I was finishing it up in my math class and me being the softie I am, the tears started rolling. . .

Oh wait a minute. . .

***It ain't over, to be continued.***

The Call. . .

"You think I'd leave your side baby, you know me better than that. . ." - Sade, By Your Side

I woke up in the mood to hear Sade. I looked outside, and the weather had drastically changed. I watched the news yesterday, so I knew it would, but for the forecast to come to fruition, I was a little crestfallen (Yea, I felt like using big words this morning too, fuck it). I always think weather like this is ominious.

So, it's almost 9 am, and I'm sitting here. Just being here. I got a strange phone message this morning. I mean it was filled with care, concern, and love, and I felt all of that, but it was still weird. Whenever you get those "if something should happen to me"- type speeches. The mind strays, and all the crazy shit that could ever happen dances in front of your eyes. It's not like this world is sweet and pure filled with genuine people with pure intentions. There may be some, but we live in a world full of terrorist, snipers, and coldhearted motherfuckers. Nothing could happen, but something could. So it got me to thinking. . .

What would I do without him in my life?


I'm feeling weird right now, like I'm typing but I don't know what's going to come next. I kinda like this feeling.

I have no idea where I'd be without your influence. My heart races when I think about you, and dammit you make my skin boil. I cherish the moments we spend together, and at the same time appreciate our space right now. I'm counting the days until we see one another again.

Don't ever scare me like that again.

Fuck the meantime, you're worth the wait.

I'm Trippin Part 1

I’m Trippin’. . . (Part 1)
Right now I’m trippin on a lot of things, some make sense and some don’t. If you can rationalize, feel free.

• I’m trippin on the fact that someone came to class yesterday wearing the same perfume that I wear, (Body by Victoria) . . . but I’m trippin more on the fact that it was a guy.

• I’m trippin on the fact that before my Creative Writing class, I had only seen the movie Slam once. It’s one of those flicks that make writers.

• I’m trippin on how Pookie corrects me, and I don’t mind it at all. In fact, it’s kinda sexy and it keeps me on my toes.

• I’m trippin on how it’s almost been three years, and it seems newer everyday.

• Speaking of my toes, I’m really tripping on how I’ve been wearing my toes out all summer, and I used to have BAD issues with my feet.

• I’m trippin on how ever since I got this new hairdo, the fellas have been checking for me harder than ever, and on the fact that it cost me $25 to do this style, and the shop was gonna charge me $150

• I’m trippin on how my mother thinks that just because I’m her child she can scream on me. I give her the utmost respect, but sometimes she makes me want to step out of my walk. . .

• -I’m trippin on how small Cleveland is. You can’t date or meet anyone who doesn’t know someone who knows you. Especially as far as the black community is concerned. I mean, you mention the general area where you were raised, like Kinsman, Wade Park, Miles, wherever, and someone can name a cousin, a classmate, or ex-boyfriend on the spot. I was talking to this guy the other day, and there was something so familiar about him that it was scary. After giving it some thought, I realized that he was friends with my first love. Before there was Facebook, Yahoo 360, or even Blackplanet, you could find lost relatives and friends in the streets. I just think it's crazy how small our black planet is. Six degrees of separation is dwindling down to 3 or 4. You know when you meet someone, after finding out where they're from, you ask if they know anyone you can think of from that area. And it's a trip how for the most part, they will know at least one person you know.

• I’m trippin on how this was supposed to be a quick rant, but turned into something else. . .

No She Didn't!!!!

“If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad. . .”
---Sheryl Crow,


We all know that chick. We whisper about her, we roll our eyes in her general direction, and of course, when we find out the latest thing her triflin' ass has done, we say, "Oh no she didn't".
At least, I know her. And at times, I've been her. I think all women have been her at some point. The one who did that crazy thing knowing she could have done something better, made a more rational or popular choice. If you haven't then maybe you should.

Ladies, how many of us have done some shit behind a building, in a park, or in a car that could have gotten us arrested? Or slept with someone's man, knowing they were attached? Or slept with more than one guy at one time? Etcetera, etcetera.

Some of us have done things that would make Janet Jacme blush. And to me, there’s nothing wrong with that. What's so wrong with this woman? What's so bad about the things she does?

There are women who live their lives with reckless abandon. One night stands, double lives, and side hustles exists everywhere. Like Ying Yang Twins say, "She's a schoolgirl by day and a stripper by night. . ."

My God I can't believe I am quoting those clowns.

Should you really be concerned with what other women think about you? They are going to talk if you're doing well, or if you're doing badly. So I say, let 'em talk.


Yea a chick might take her clothes off at night to make money, but she's paying for school. No one else is going to do it so she's making a way. Who am I to judge? She's at peace with herself, so that should be enough. It’s not for me, but that’s her thing.

Eventually, at least according to my beliefs, we all go before God with everything we've done. As long as you can look in the mirror and be PROUD of yourself, then fuck what others say.

Some women are born to be saints, and some are born to be sinners. I think most women are born to be somewhere in between. It’s all about letting go, and being who you want to be, regardless of what others might think.

I’ve lived a great deal of my life focused on what other people think about me. I’ve wondered, ‘what would my mom do if she ever found out I (dirty deed here). . .’, Or even my sisters, or my daddy, or anyone in my family. Now I’m like, ‘Hey, it’s my life, I gotta live it for me, and if you have a problem with something that I’m doing, then it’s best you press on. . .’

How happy can you be to go through your life, knowing that you did everything right, resisted all tempting things like drugs, alcohol, and sex? I'm happy knowing that I have those certain private moments, tucked away somewhere in the back of my head. I can make myself smile years from now on those days when I'm settled down.

My mom would flip if she knew half the stuff I’ve done. And I’m glad. And I don’t have any regrets, or doubts in my life right now. Think about it, how many things are you curious about trying, but won’t do because of what others might say?

RESPECT THE WRITER

Don't discount my talent.
Don't think of it as a fluke.
It's not a phase, not something I'll get over.
It's not novel, I'm writing novels.
Everyone can't do this.
I'm a writer, and I write.
Like Gwendolyn Brooks said, 'Writers write'
Don't roll your eyes when I say I'm working on the book.
The book is real, the ideas, the creativity is flowing.
Respect the writer.
Dammit.
Thank you.

**This has been a blog rant brought to you by a true Aquarius. Please enjoy the rest of your day.**

I CAME TO THE CROWD

So, tonight, I went out. . .again. It's a bit early to say I'm becoming quite the socialite. We didn't go to some club, or a bar. We went to the Kamikaze Coffee Shop on Warrensville Center Road. For the past few years, they've been having an open mic night for poets. Looking back, I'm not sure why I was so nervous about getting on that stage, but tonight. . .I DID IT!!!

Tameka signed me up, I protested slightly, but something inside of me urged me to go on. I emailed my poem to my cell phone, since my printer is down, and I didn't have time to write it out. Of course the reception in the spot was crappy, so I was about to give up. . .of course that voice pushed me on, so therefore I ran out to Tameka's car and jotted the poem down quickly with a few changes.

I was a virgin. . .as they say. Everyone stood and gave me love as I approached the stage. I read this sexually charged, erotic piece of poetry. I got "alrights," and snaps and all that. I am so happy. I got love that I've never felt before. I popped my cherry right on the stage.

Seriously. . .It felt like some sort of shield was removed from my body, and a new woman stepped out. Maybe this is the poet in me coming out. I don't know. But the feeling I felt when I said the last line will be with me forever. I realized that I am a writer. I was born to perform my poetry onstage. I have to do it again.

I'm telling you, I am coming down from an awesome high. It feels like I smoked something lethal. I'm hungry, sleepy, happy, horny and excited. People congratulated me as I walked out of the door, and told me how awesome the poem I read was. I just love when other poets praise me.

From what I've heard, when you get that first hit or whatever you smoke, it appeals to you so much. You yearn for the next time you connect with that drug.

Hi, my name is Shatira. I'm a poet, and I am addicted to the mic. I'm itching for my next hit.

I came to the crowd seeking friends
I came to the crowd seeking love
I came to the crowd for understanding
--Taken from Nikki Giovanni's 'You Came Too'


For the curious. . .this is the poem I read tonight. . .enjoy.

When Can I Write About Love?
When can I write love poems again?
I mean, I wanna write about wet spots left on my sheets, body tingling for weeks and puddles left on my belly.
Being someone’s ride or die chick fucking hard while listening to Makaveli.
Or lying beside a conscious brother head bobbing to Talib Kweli
I wanna write about him constantly on my mind, eagerly waiting the instant until again I stare into his eyes so divine.
I wanna write about stretching fifteen minute breaks into however long it takes to make the windows of his car fog…
I wanna write about long lasting lingering hugs and finding the perfect man, polite with a touch of thug
I wanna fill notebooks with notions about loving him so much, anticipating his touch, and admitting when I’m alone, thinking of him, myself I touch
When will I be able to write about love?
I wanna write about how when he is far, I am still wrapped in his closeness, how I’m relieved that my quest wasn’t hopeless.
I didn’t know I would be able to cope this long without the strong inspiration of love
I need inspirational love. When will I fall in love?
I wanna fall in love just so I can write about it.
I wanna write about indulging in you, tasting you like sweetest fruit, savoring the juice extracted from you.
I wanna write about time standing still when we are alone but together…
Seconds seeming like forever, minutes mounting in hours which are painstakingly difficult to conquer, and days dragging me along.
I wanna write a line that simply says, thoughts of you keep me sane, I stare at your picture in the frame, last night I lost count of how many times I came.

I wanna write love poems like, sunlight dims in the radiance of our union, my essence moves in unison with the core of you, I adore you, I give my love to you, I need more of you.
But the words don’t form as long as my heart remains scorned.
So I impatiently wait until love begins to form….Impatiently Yours.

Saturday Evening. . .

So I went out. . ..

So last night, I got all dressed up. I did the heels, the cute top, and makeup, the whole nine. Damn, I meant to take a picture. I went to the Spy Bar with a few other ladies. It felt good to be out with drama-free, mature women, as opposed to the chickheads I used to club with. The women (not girls) I kicked it with last night were down-to-earth, and all around nice. We had so much fun dancing in that circle we ladies dance in when the fellas are tired. I drank 2 drinks (I think) and was in a nice lil zone, yet still pretty coherent. I think I called and babbled to Pookie a bit. . .I'll have to ask later. I seen two exes. One spoke, one didn't. I was good either way. I seen SO many people I went to high school and college with. it was crazy.

The music was typical Cleveland club ish: drop it, shake it, wiggle it, give it up, etc. . .The vibe was good until it began to become overcrowded. The basement was playing more old school laidback music, my homie DJ Gspot did his thing. We left around 3am, and headed to the IHOP. Why are their pancakes so good? What the hell do they do to them?


I haven't been out to a club in Cleveland in such a long time, so it felt good to get my tail back out. I wouldn't do it every weekend, but once in a while would be cool.

Last night, I needed to go out. I had to clear my mind. I had a stressful first week of classes, and in light of Katrina, my heart was heavy. There were so many different emotions swirling around in my head. I was angry at the response of the government, especially the nonchalant attitude of our nation's CEO. "Pharoah", as Rev. Al Sharpton coined Pres. Bush, observed and commented from distances before finally taking his ass down there. I just feel like so much more could have been done more quickly. The response for the tsunami, and other tragedies seemed much more swift. My mom and my sister always tell me that I am too quick to go to the racial aspect, but I believe in calling a spade a spade. Yes, I do think that if this was some other region, some other are where there was a smaller number of minorities, and a greater number of whites, the aid would have some sooner. I guess we'll never know. God willing this doesn't happen again.

My heart was so heavy this week. Thinking about all those babies, the elderly, and in between. They were sent to a supposedly safer haven, but with no provisions. What the hell? It's like, 'y'all chill and sit in here,dont worry about water, food, etc. . ' It took too long for people to be taken care of. It's a matter of ethics, you know, like the question about the man stealing bread to feed his family.

I was angry at my people for looting items such as televisions, sneakers, and other items not necessary for survival. I mean, I understand stealing water from grocery stores, food, etc. There is no electricity or refridgeration, so most of that stuff would spoil anyway. It was embarassing to have the media portray US as they did, but you know what? A lot of that shit was unneccesary. Feed your kids, but where you gonna put that damn tv. I understand the frustration and desperation of these refugees, but raping and shooting wasn't going to ease the situation. It only made people more reluctant to give assistance.

Sigh. . .America is still the beautiful, right? Just checking.

Many celebrities are giving right now. I read that Diddy and Jay-Z gave a million, and Steve Harvey went down there. Jesse Jackson sent buses for transport, and I seen Morgan Freeman as well. That's all well and good, however I am loving the fact that everyday Americans are giving time, money, and energy to help complete strangers. Every little bit helps.

I'm staying prayerful for those people who have to start their whole lives over. I feel blessed to have the things that I have, tangible and intangible.

School Daze all over again. . .

"I'm focused, man. . . . ."



So, another semester in. Of course I'm looking forward to the end, but I'm also looking forward to experiencing what my classes have to offer. I have a heavy load this semester: Math class, some computer work, managerial accounting, and 2 classes in the Pan African Studies building, Oscar Ritchie Hall. For those not familiar, Oscar Ritchie was the first African American faculty member at my school, Kent State University. This was way back in 1947. Black United Students petitioned to name the old student union after him following his death in 1967, thus making him the first African-American to have a predominantly white public university building named in his honor.

Ok, now that the history portion is over, I'll continue.

I'm really looking forward to getting the damn math, accounting, and computer classes out of the way. I'm going to enjoy the 2 classes I have in Oscar Ritchie. It's been a few semesters since I took "black classes", so it'll be good to revisit those feelings of awareness and pride I felt as I sat in those classes.

I'm very excited about the African World Creative Writing Class. We'll be reading the poetry of Amiri Baraka, Gwendolyn Brooks, and Haki Madbhuti. In addition we're also going to write and have our work critiqued by classmates. We introduced ourselves yesterday. Everyone is a writer, whether poetry, plays, novels, or music. It's an awesome feeling to be surrounded by so much talent.

The other class is African Social/Political/Economic Systems. . .a mouthful, I know. It seems interesting. I was slightly intimidated by the fact that when I first walked in to the class, I was the only chocolate face in a sea of milky white. I swear, I thought I was in the wrong room, until I seen everyone had the book for the course. Overwhelmed, I walked out of the class to get some air, since I was fifteen minutes early. I was grateful when six other black people finally showed up in true CP fashion.

I plan on throwing myself completely into school and make the most of my final moments in college. I cant tell it'll be easy to fall behind, but I don't plan on doing so. As long as I stick to my studying schedule, I'll be good. . .Lawd, lawd please let me be in the final moments!!!

This is a must read. Or better yet, get the audiobook. Listening to the story of the 2 lovers read by Chadwick Boseman and Heather Simms puts you in their shoes. You feel like you know them, and you can relate to their love story. The letters span from 1990, when he first goes to jail, until 1999.

I tripped reading this. My first love was in and out of jail with his bad ass. . .and he used to write me. The same things Antonio was saying to Natasha, he said to me. The longer he was in there, the more frustrated he became. . .these letters mirrored that period in my life. We wrote off and on for the time he was in, but once he got out. . .I won't even go into what happened, for fear of too deeply digressing.

You know a book is good when you cry, because it's over. I crave these characters. I want to know what happened to them. I shed tears because even though this was not my story, it was.
The bottom line is that the book is really deep, and makes you think about where you're from, and how the choices you make in your life as a youth can and will effect you in your future.

Sometimes I fear silence because it forces me to be alone with my thoughts. I sleep with music playing, or the television on. With the tv playing, I avoid two of my enemies: silence and darkness. Darkness makes things clearer to me, I see faces of people I've hurt, who've hurt me, and those who I love. Darkness makes me face my biggest fears: failure, rejection and uncertainty.

That's So Tira

For as long as I can recall, I've been dreaming in color. Vividly. All sorts of images, people, places, and situations have entertained me in my slumber. Food, sex, sorrow, and family are popular dream themes with me.

I had a dream the other night that I was jumping. Higher and higher, for what I can't recall, but I tried to evaluate the symbolism in the dream, as I do with all the dreams I have that don't really make sense. I'm thinking it has something to do with me trying to accomplish my goals. Maybe graduating, I'm so so close right now, but sometimes it seems out of reach.


Where's my damn sitcom? I've been having visions for years. Raven owes me some money.There was a point in my life where I was afraid to go to sleep, because I didn't know what would be "revealed" to me. I've dreamed of people dying, myself dying, winning money, having babies, and all types of things. I dreamed about Peter Jennings dying months ago.


The insomnia started years ago. I'd stay up all night hiding from my dreams, because I didn't want this, whatever it was. Once I told my mother, she told me other people in my family have dealt with this, and it's more of a gift than a curse. But do you know how scary it is to have a dead relative come to you in a dream and speak to you? I do. A few years ago, my grandfather came to me and told me that my mother was going to really need me for a while. Sure enough, he was right, and I was terrified.


I've been told that dreams of predictive nature are messages from God. I've used them to prepare people. I like to believe that some of my dreams are messages from God, he's trying to tell me something or giving me some sort of information that I may need. When I'm sleeping, I'm still, and available to receive.

I swear I'm not nuts.

I'm not psychic, not clairvoyant, nor will I ever claim to be. You won't catch me reading tarot cards or gazing into crystal balls.


It can't just be me, someone else has to be dreaming like this.

If I sleep with music playing, the music it's often incorporated into the dream, or if the tv is on, I dream about being in the sitcom or a part of the tragedy on the news. I think that's common.

One time my sister asked me what I dreamed and I made something up because I couldn't clearly recall the dream. I didn't have another dream for over a month, as if I was being punished.

I've had dreams where I've met up with people I've disliked, and I worked things out with them in the dream. I'd see them after the dream, and I'd be fine. . .no confrontation necessary.

I had a friend who came up from Pennsylvania and spent her summers with her grandma who lived across the street from me. I hadn't spoke to her in 3 years, but during that time I had dreamed she had 2 sons. Sure enough, the next time I seen her she had the very two sons I seen in my dream.

This is such a strange phenomenon about me. I don't talk about it much, but I wanted to blog about it because I figured by writing it out, reading it, and thinking about the words, maybe I could make some more sense of it. If you think I'm crazy you should meet my granny because she dreams the Pick 3 numbers at least once a month and wins up to a grand depending on how it comes out. . .lemme get some luck like that.

Jacked

So I got jacked on Saturday evening.
Here's the story.

I was making koolaid, ran out of sugar, decided to run to the store on the corner. A fifteen minute walk, that's it.

Good exercise, fresh air.

So, I'm in the parking lot of the store, talking on my phone when this high yellow dude crosses the street. I kept an eye on him, just because he looked suspect. He walked behind me, so I sped up. He started walking quicker behind me, but I wasnt stressing it because I was at the door of the store. All of a sudden he bumps into me, and walks away.

I'm pissed, but I just went in the store. Some dude comes in the store and goes, 'Yo, that dude just took your money outta your pocket.' Sure enough dude had taken $10 outta my pocket. How he got it without me knowing is beyond me. It's not like my ass sits that far out.

Keep in mind there was a parking lot full of grown ass men watched this happen. I mean, I'm not asking for strangers to be responsible for me, but if I seen a CRIME taking place I would damn sure do more than watch.

So dude has the nerve to come in the store while I'm in there. Those money hungry (guess the nationality) people sell him six loose cigarettes and he puts gas in his tank, on my money. So I yell out and he calls me a bitch and says he didn't take shit from me, so I better shut the fuck up. . .

Store owners just watching. . .

No one does anything.

Never felt so victimized.

I'm glad I didn't have my wallet, my bank card, or my cell phone in that back pocket, and I guess I should be grateful that he didn't do anything physically to me.

People think because I live in a suburb, everything is peaches and cream. Well, I'm telling you it's not. When I lived directly in Cleveland, nothing like this happened to me directly. My suburb is like your hood, dirty muthaf*ckas live everywhere. I live in Maple Heights, but don't let the charming name fool you. It was like Sweet Valley when we moved here about 6 years ago, but now it's turning into Compton or something. Everywhere you turn, there are ReMaxx, Century 21. or some other real estate signs going up, like white flight or something. . .

My momma calls them rogues. . .

I mean, it was just $10, but damn, it was mine.

Moral of the story: watch your back, even in the 'burbs

Thanks Nike

I just woke, up, my hair is a mess, and I'm sure my breath isn't the best. Spongebob is on the tv, but I'm really not watching. I'm thinking about the long day I have a head of me. There are so many things I need to do, but I dont know where to begin. Let's see. . .
Cleaning up
Working out
Studying
Doing a chapter or so of F. F.

This is the perfect day for this sort of work too. . .I have no class, no appointments, no dates, or anything else pressing to contend with. So, what's my biggest opposition today?

Me, that's who.

This may seem weird, but I feel like there is something in me that is preventing me from getting anything productive done. Almost as if there's a demon or something in me. Just writing this seems crazy.

I'm not lazy, and I am tired of calling myself a procrastinator. It has to be something else. For instances, when it's time to study, I can think of a million other things I could be doing, none of which are as beneficial as cracking open my accounting book. Before my exam, I studied in bits and pieces, but didn't start going over the study guide until 8am on the day of the text, which started at 945. . .I mean, I got a 89% on the exam, but I was so nervous. I got the grade I got on sheer luck.

How do I fight the devil in me? You know you feel in your heart that you want to do better, or that you need to do better, but something supernatural is holding you down?

I've figured out the answer, although Nike did it years ago.



Yea, just do it. When everything around me is trying stopping me, I won't let it. I'm going to exert more energy to complete the task than I normally would. For once, I'd like to be tired from a hard day's work than from lying around all day watching tv or doing something I had no business doing anyway.

It's all about habit and routine. The more I get in the practice of doing what the hell i'm supposed to be doing, the better off I'll be. So, starting today. . .

You know where this is going, I'm not gonna say it anymore. . .

**walking away chanting an anti-procrastination mantra**

Good Times Weekend Mumblings. . .

"Just lookin' outta the window. . ."

I decided to chill in the house this weekend. I cleaned my room (sorta), and studied for my accounting exam. In between this, I watched my favorite old school sitcom.

48 Hour Good Times Marathon on TV Land. . .yea boy.


Day 2: Damn, I'm getting a little tired of Good Times. . .after watching all of these, I missed my favorite ones, like when JJ got shot, when he got VD, and when his prom date (Debbie Allen) was harboring a drug problem.

How come James wore the same pair of corduroys on every episode, yet Thelma dressed like she had money?
Answer: Because Bernadette Stanis refused to look poor on tv, she demanded to wear nice clothing despite the fact she was portraying a teenager living in the projects...(thanks Mom)



How awesome is the theme song? It's one of the best in sitcom history hands down. It perfect fits the show. I rank it up there with The Jeffersons, and All in the Family's songs.

Ralph Carter (Michael) grew up to be an ug-mo, the rest of the cast looks pretty much the same.


The show went downhill after James died. I've seen the episode before but I still cried.
Esther Rolle did some of her best acting when she dropped the punch bowl. . .DAMN DAMN DAMN!


Look at all the celebs that had little parts in that show. Janet Jackson, Debbie Morgan, Louis Gosset, Jr., damn, even Jay Leno.

Well you know, what can I say?

I loved Helen Martin on this show, aka Weeping Wanda. I still can't the image of her in Master P's movie out of my head. . .

How come they keep putting that orange lipstick on Florida?

How come they don't make black sitcoms like this anymore? Minus the stereotypes, where are the family values and community togetherness in TV today? I'm tired of reality tv.

Wilona was soooo fly.

Back in the day, on the low, I mighta let Jimmy Walker hit, if he was anything like his J. J. character in real life.

Yo, Is that Stymie from Little Rascals?

Dear Summer

Man oh man. . .you really did a number on me this year. And you know the scary part, Summer? You aren't anywhere near being over! It's only July, and already you've brought the pain. I mean, I'm not gonna front, Summer. You've given me some good times this year, and I see improvements from the last time we were together, but I think the madness you brought this year topped any other year. Let's look at the ills you gave me (thus far):

I lost my oldest, and favorite uncle. (RIP Sherman Harris). I find solace in the fact that he didnt die in pain, that his sons will be taken care of, and the he's no longer suffering. But it was hard to lose him, knowing that we hadn't spoken in a while.

My name was thrown in the middle of a beef between my dad and one of his friends, and as a result I have spoke to him since early May. (Fuck 'em, be a man, ya feel me, Summer?)

I ran the risk of losing my financial aid as a result of the criminal deeds of the chick who stole my identity. I mean, I went to the Justice Center and straightened everything out, but I hated having to worry and stress due to someone's misuse of my identity.

I let go of a friend who was more toxic to me than endearing. I realized I was holding on for the sake of holding on, and that we really had no ties to one another. Like Nia long told Khalil Kain in Love Jones, 'All we had was all those years. . ." I should have done it a long time ago but hey, it's been months now and I feel freed. The ill part was the way it all had to go down. The shorthand version: Pettiness, broken locks, threats, police reports. Summer, I need not go on. . .

We had our fun times, Summer. I can't argue there. I sweated like I never sweated before, I became more diligent about working out and my overall health. I became more aware of myself (which it seems like I do more often than ever). I got closer to my cousins and my sisters. Oh yea, I learned the identity of the person who stole my identity. (Some young, pitiful, thugged out female. Pray for her) The best part of my summer thus far has been June 10-13. . .please write me back Summer, and let me know that the best is yet to come.

Now Summer, I don't wanna seem ungrateful for the good times you gave me, but the ills definitely outweighed them. I know what you're gonna say, silver lining, reason for everything, karma etc, etc. And you're right. I see the point. I understand. Now, ease up a lil, ok?

I mean, damn Summer, you used to be my favorite time of year, but now I'm waiting for Fall. And you know why. . .

So, let's make a deal. . .chill out from now until September, ok? Relax on the drama you've been bringing my way, and let me see Pookie before you turn into Autumn. Oh yea, and Summer? Instead of bringing the pain, bring the rain! It's hot as hell and my grass is turning brown.

Sincerely,
Shatira

Summer Reading

A friend of mine has been begging me to give him some good books to read this summer. So, here is a list of my top 10 summer reading books, not really in any particular order.

1. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
2. Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin
3. Life With Mother Superior by Jane Trahey
4. She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb
5. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
6. Lil Mama's Rules by Sheneska Jackson
7. Song of Solomon By Toni Morrison
8. A Day Late and a Dollar Short by Terry McMillan
9. The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
10. Krik! Krak! by Edwidge Danticat

Happy Reading!

Tupac Shakur: The Rapper, The Poet, The Actor, The Rebel

June 16, 1971. . .I wasn't even born, wasn't even thought of. But Tupac (Lesane Parish Crooks) was born. He's my favorite rapper of all time (My gosh Pookie, how could he not be in your Top 5? Is he in the Top 10 at least? Top 7?). When I think of his work, on wax, paper, or screen, words like passionate, appealing, genuine, and honest come to mind. Aside from the fact the he was beautiful to look at, he was such a talented person with more promise and potential than we'll ever know he possessed. His life and death are like a tragic Greek play; he lived a valiant life with many ups and downs, had a warrior woman for a mother, became wildly successful, and died like so many expected he would. His legend lives on and his music still touches the world. Fuck Killuminati or 7 day theories, I'm the biggest fan out there, and if I say he's dead. . .he's dead. He ain't in Cuba. Sorry folks, but he is not the black people's Elvis. Today, he would have turned 34. I had to honor him with a post.

The Rapper

I remember hearing Pac with Digital Underground. He stood out even then. He wasn't one of those rappers who was all about weed, sex, and killing. His rhymes had substance, and he talked about a wide range of topics, teen pregnancy, overcoming adversity, loving your mother, sex, mourning loss, etc. He's one of the few rappers that could get away with crazy contradictions. He could be raw, and then sensitive. A thug one minute, and loving son the next. He was just a deep person. My favorite Tupac songs display this range:
Brenda's Got a Baby
Dear Mama
Life Goes On
Keep Ya Head Up
Temptations
Me Against the World
Fuck the World
So Many Tears
St8 Ballin'

The Actor

Above the Rim, Juice, Poetic Justice, Grid'lockd, and the list goes on. There was so much emotional appeal in his performance it was almost surreal. He was a rare find, a rapper who could act almost as good as he could rap. Remember when he was Piccolo on Different World?

The Rebel
"I woke up screaming fuck the world"

Damn, girls love bad boys. Through his court trials, and all other indiscretions, I still seen this strong, proud man who struggled to be himself. He was one of a kind, which is why there are so many, bandanna 'round the head, bald-headed, gravelly voiced wannabes out there still tryna copy his image after all these years.

The Poet

His poetry is intense. In my opinion, it's more personal than his raps. He comes across as vulnerable and serious. When reading The Rose That Grew From Concrete, you get a sense of a man who's more than a rebel, a rapper, and a thinker; you see the true reveal of an artist, a lover and a thinker. If you haven't read this collection, it's a must.

A loyal son, and a devoted artists. Multi-faceted and complex at best. There will never be another with his depth. Rest in peace. . .

Haiku for 2Pac

Image on t-shirts

Afeni and his words live

So his star still shines

THROWBACK ALBUM OF THE WEEK

Favorite Cuts:
Mr. Wendal
People Everyday
Raining Revolution
Natural

I bought this back when buying a CD or a tape was actually worth the money. There were 16 tracks, not the bullshit 9 or 11 you get these days for damn near 20 bucks. The group as a whole is soulful and makes beautiful music together. I saw Arrested Development on this new show called Hit Me Baby 1 More Time. They looked great, and they did an awesome cover of the Los Lonely Boys song Hollywood. It reminded me of some acoustic, Floetry type stuff.

Sexual Revolution

Everybody shake it
Time to be free amongst yourselves
Your mama told you to be discreet
And keep your freak to yourself
But your mama lied to you all this time
She knows as well as you and I
You've got to express what is taboo in you
And share your freak with the rest of us
Cause it's a beautiful thang
This is my sexual revolution
Everybody shake it
Time to be free amongst yourselves
Your mama told you to be discreet
And keep your freak to yourself
But your mama lied to you all this time
She knows as well as you and I
You've got to express what is taboo in you
And share your freak with the rest of us


Cause it's a beautiful thang
This is my sexual revolution
Everybody break it
Every rule every constriction
My papa told me to be home by now
But my party has just begun
Maybe he'll understand
That I got to beTo be the freak that god made me
So many thangz I want to try
Got to do them before I die
This is my sexual revolution

I'm so funkin' beautiful
Especially when I take my clothes off
I'm so funkin' beautiful
Especially when I take my clothes off
Sexual revolution


Got to do them before I die
Got to do them before I die

--Macy Gray

THROWBACK ALBUM OF THE WEEK

I'm always talking about how I love old school music, so I decided to choose a throwback album every week to pay homage to some of the great music of the past. Here's the first:

Chris Bender: Draped (1991)

My mother used to play this TAPE until it wore out. I was only around 8 when it came out, but I still knew good music. I knew all the words to each of the 10 songs on this album. Unfortunately his untimely death cut his career short, and with the music industry being so fickle, there's no way of really knowing how far he could have gone. This album came out right in the midst of the New Jack sing era, and followed the same formula as many other artists of the era like Teddy Riley, Keith Sweat, etc. His album was full of emotion and passion, and is just as relevant today as when it first came out.

Standout tracks:
Pourin' Like Rain
Who Will I Choose
Kiss and Makeup
Sorry Didn't Do It

Favorite Lyrics:
"One girl fulfills my physical needs, and the other girl provides for me mentally. Both parties make up my world, my minds in confusion which giiiiiiiiiiiiirl. Neither girl I want to lose, but by both of them I've been accused. I'm goin crazy, what should I do, who will I choose?"

(That's a situation so many people can relate to, I'm sure)

bell hooks

". . .about my people she was teachin me/by not preachin to me but speakin to me in a method that was leisurely/ so easily I approached. . ." Common, I Used To Love H.E.R.

I've been a fan of bell hook's writing since freshman year of college. She's insightful, and honest. She is an awesome revolutionary activist and poet. I've read many of her articles, and learned so much about topics that affect my everyday life. bell hooks challenges the way Ithought, and during a period in my life where I was uncertain about who I was, and where I needed to be, her words stirred something in side of me. Also, she is very humble. When asked about the lower-cased spelling of her name, which she prefers, she says it's "about ego: What's in a name? It is the substance in my books, not who is writing them, that is important." Here are two of her books that I'm adding to my soul's progression now:






Link to a bell hooks fansite:
http://www.allaboutbell.com/

49th hour of sleeplessness

In case you ever wondered, this is what insomnia looks like.

This year so far has been all about self-discovery, and other revelations. I've spent so much time alone that I couldn't help to learn about myself. So, I'm sharing my top ten truths here:

1. I don't love him anymore. FINALLY!!! I remember thinking he was dead, finding out about the babies, and facing her. I remember when the girl who introduced me to him told me they had been sleeping together. I remember the nicknames, and the songs. I remember wanting to look for him in the projects where he lived with her. I thought I needed to see him again, to get some closure or at least some clarity on why he treated me the way he did, but I'm good now. I'm over him and I thank him for preparing me to love and appreciate someone who was worthy of what I had to give.
The day I let go
I breathed a sigh of let go
And never looked back

2. Damn, I'm a freak. I'm accepting of so many things that seemed extreme. I'm happy to be open-minded. Pierced nipples used to seem so absurd to me, but now they are a possibility. I have a fantasy of having sex in a public place and being seen. Phone sex is a big turn-on which is why Girl 6 is one of my favorite movies. I'm not embarrassed about my feelings toward sex, and I feel great about that.

Handcuffs on my wrists
Honey drips slow from my tits
Leave the blinds open

3. I really do like "white people music", as my brother calls it. It's not some quirk I latched on to in order to fit in with my white friends, as some people may think. It's funny because most of them had more hip hop in their collections than I did. Maroon 5, Green Day, and Coldplay are on the top of my list. John Mayer speaks to me, and I've been listening to Alanis Morrisette since junior high. On the low, I'm digging Celine Dion and Gretchen Wilson. I used to be embarrassed by my different tastes, and now the very same people who used to diss me are bumping John Mayer, Coldplay, and Maroon 5 just because Jay-Z and Kanye West say they’re hot.
Don’t change the station
Don’t fuck with my radio
And we’ll be alright

4. I miss writing. With my classes, I didn’t have time to devote to my writing. NO, let me tell the truth. I didn’t manage my time well enough to stay on top of my books and pour energy into my stories and poetry.
I feel like myself
Watching, thinking, and then
Writing it all out

5. I really miss reading for pleasure. Last semester I took a Pan-African Women’s Literature class and I was introduced to Edwidge Danticat, former Black Panther Party member Elaine Brown, and reintroduced to Jamaica Kincaid. This summer I want to read more from these and other women, and learn of their struggles and joy.
Pages and Pages
Inspire me to become
A warrior girl

6. I’ve wasted a lot of time and energy caring about what people thought about me. Correction: what the wrong people seen in me. Well, I’m over that now. I remember being so upset that a girl in my class made it known she didn’t like me. I was dying to know why and she couldn’t tell me. Now I could care less. If you can’t help me move forward, or provide encouragement then I have no use for you anyway. Moving on. . .
Don’t gotta like me
I’ll be fine without yo ass
So just keep steppin


7. I haven’t spoken to God in a long time. There have been many times I needed to pray, but I didn’t. I won’t even talk about how many times I have forgotten to say grace before eating. I want to get the faith back into my life. I will start by asking Him to forgive me for neglecting him.
It’s been a long time
Since He and I had a talk
His arms are open

8. All of my jeans have not been shrunken in the washing machine. I am gaining weight. My thighs are thicker, and my tummy has more of a pudge to it than it’s ever had. But I won’t bitch, moan or complain. I am not going to blame it on the washer, the mirrors, or the clothing companies who cut their clothes smaller these days. I am going to abandon all conspiracy theories. I’m gonna make use of the Bally’s pass I’ve been paying for since January and get to the point where I feel healthier and I look the way I want to look.
It’s not the washer
Stopping my thighs from my jeans
I gotta get right


9. I am getting better about procrastinating. I like having things in order. I feel good turning in papers early, and not having to pop Vivarin or drink coffee to get things done.
Bullshitting has ceased
No longer putting off shit
That can be done now

10. I truly believe that everyone has the right to live the life they are truly happy to live. I accept so many different lifestyles, yet I still know who I am. I don’t want people to judge me, so I try to be as tolerant as possible. I’ve met some of the kindest, intelligent, and genuine people in the world who lived the most unbelievable lifestyles, and they couldn’t be happier. That’s how I want to carry out my life. Doing what I want, regardless of the stares, or disapproving glares from conservative fucks who lead bottled up, depressed lives.
Live how you wanna
Give them shit to talk about
But fuck what they say

I Hate..

DISCLAIMER: Hate is a terribly strong word, yet it applies to so much that I observe. I can say I hate things because I know the difference between hating, not liking and strongly disliking something. So, here's some of what I hate...]

-I hate when people say "conversating". It's conversing, dummy.
-I hate when people walk when the sign says don't walk, and then get upset when the cars damn near hit them
-I hate when young people don't give their seats up to the elderly, or pregnant women on public transportation
-I hate when people can't have an entire conversation without saying, "namean", or "yafeelme" a few dozen times
-I hate when women let men walk all over them because they have children with them
-I hate when men walk all over women even if they have children with them
-I hate when people only call you when they want something
-I hate when people want you to listen to their problems or issues, but fail to reciprocate when your time comes.
-I hate when I go into a store and try on a pair a jeans whose label claims to be my size, when they are actually cut a size or two smaller.
-I hate stores who only stop selling bras at D cups or less.
-I hate stores who sell matching bra and panty sets with big panties that I can't fit, but bras that fit ok.



So as not to seem bitter, the love post will soon follow.

What happened to my Brown Sugar?

He has gone from a sexy, well-toned chocolate, caramel dipped Adonis, to a .....umm, I really don't know what. But I bet he'd place first in a ODB look-alike contest. I remember when the album Brown Sugar out. It was back in the summer of '95, and I was only around 12, but I knew it was sensual and perfect for chilling out. I would play that tape all day long while writing poems and dreaming of imaginary boyfriends. I remember arguing with my sisters over the "secret"meaning of the title track and dancing to "Lady" and the awesome remix with AZ, one of my fave rappers.

Fast forward to January 2000, 4 days after my 17th birthday when I bought Voodoo as a gift to myself. I had a portable CD player by that time, and I listened to that CD on the long ass train ride on the way home from school, or to work. It was a little weird, kinna trippy, but I was feeling it. My fave song of this collection was number 7, 'One Mo Gin', but the most memorable track for me was number 12, mainly because of the video which had women tippin their TVs over, as Monique says. At the time, it was the finest male body I had ever see in my life, and I remember how quiet the room would be when my sister and I were watching that video, which was in heavy rotation on BET.

Fast forward once more to now, when D'angelo has been quite obscure, only to emerge with a negative story. I feel for him, and I hope he gets his stuff together. I absolutely crave a new D'angelo CD. Now that I am older and wiser, I feel that i will be able to appreciate his music in a whole new way. I just hope I'm not disappointed for so eagerly anticipating great music in the market where mediocre rappers are outselling genuine vocalists, and half-ass singers are overshadowing true talents across the board.

To his credit, in the interim of a studio album, Dangelo has done impressive work with Erykah Badu, Raphael Saddiq, and baby mama Angie Stone. I even have his live album. I just hope his next effort is sexy, soulful, and memorable.

Conversations while riding the bus...Part One:

Him: (turning to me) You are reeeeeal pretty.
Me:(looking into his blood red eyes) Thanks
Him:You're welcome, do you have a boyfriend?
Me:(giving my usual answer when I don't want to be bothered)Yes, I do
Him:Well, can I be your (dramatic pause). . .toy friend?
Me: Nah, I'm cool. I'm not really into that.
Him: Aiight, I'll holla.
(then he stick his tongue out and wiggles it at me, I roll my eyes in disgust and pull the cord to get off at my stop)