Light skin dudes are learning and B.A.N.'s are stepping their game up....

In my life of shootouts between aliens and bloods much has happened. My sunshine and I had a falling out of which could have remained that way but for my need of closure and sense of conclusion, he's back. We both have an understanding of what went wrong with the miscommunication and have resolved (again) to be friends and take it slow. The way things should go. I know myself. I know that if I want a substantial long term relationship time needs to be a crucial factor in order for my mate to realize, understand, and mesh my personality with his. It's all about compromise but I refuse to continue to compromise who I am for men who won't do the same. I'll tell you a secret though, I'm glad he's back...shhhh :)

There's another guy. A B.A.N. He doesn't really merit a paragraph, not event the short one I'm going to give him but he's intertwined his way into my dealings and everyday thoughts in a way that gives himself way too much credit. He had nerve to chop 'n' screw my bestie and think he has the upper hand on me....

Who do you think you are?

Mr. Big Stuff?

You're never gonna get my loooove!

End of story cause I could go in...no I mean really though I be going in! lol

Them B.A.N.'s....stepping their game UP! (or at least trying to in the above mentioned B.A.N.) For those of you who don't know what a B.A.N. is please reference David Banner.

There was to be a spontaneous yet planned trip to West Bubble this weekend but when B.A.N.'s step too far out of the little circle they must get shut down. All in all I should have an interesting weekend...I hope...we'll see...I am back in school after all...

As for the light skin dudes out there.....where have you been taking classes and who's been teaching you? I need to have a word with them! How dare you do the only thing your good for and then try to put in that extra lil' something something? *snicker* Oh I would go in but this here Blogger thing is so public. I will not be the first person to have her Blogger censored!

Until Monday! Brooklyn has me for now!

"Promise me this...don't tell nobody...I can't get in that car man, I stink..."

I don't like the way I live my life. The bestie pointed out that my blogs have begun to be about a boy...that boy. And tonight's blog could've been about him too. I invited him to share in an experience with me and he forgot. He didn't attend. It was still an experience in itself.

Real Poetry is the monthly open mic that I've been attending since age 15. It's hosted by Christopher Slaughter and attended by famous and famous by word of mouth underground poets, people, and more of the like. "Tonight was special" Slaughter said.

After a great show, most of which I missed, and an interesting boule session afterwards, a young man approached Slaughter on the side. He spoke of his crack addicted mother who was presently shooting up. He spoke of how hungry he was, he hadn't eaten in two days. He spoke of how much he stunk...he couldn't get in a car full of women. He spoke of how all he wanted was to reach his grandmother uptown. And Slaughter in all his glory anfd generosity just wanted to help him. He did. Placed him in a cab with 10 dollars in his pocket, a new phone number in his hand, and hope in his heart. Damn this thing called life.

And now with a question from Slaughter directed towards my walk, I'm in the back seat of his car wondering if I'm going through Round 2 of something I never wanted to happen unplanned again.

And it's not that I'm careless..or unthoughtful. I'm calm because it happened before. I should know the signs, I think I would know the signs.....

I must exert my will power. I don't have any...and I'm tired of going back on my word to myself. No longer...

There's a routine...and it's only been 2 weeks.

I get bored easily. Call it a stipulation of being an only child, but I was never able to keep my thoughts or attention on one thing for too long. I've always been sporadic and spontaneous living life randomly so routines were never it for me. I could only handle the routine of school because it was neccessary....only the routine of chores because mama was the big dog of the house. The only things I could control not having a routine in were my relationships.

And oh the joy! Oh the excitement in switching 'em up every two months. In randomly having adventures, making jokes about them, and kicking 'em to the curb. i have yet to find a man who could keep me on my toes. Who is one step ahead of me and keeps the relationship exciting.

And already it has been just around two weeks and i have a routine. It just fell into place. I don't like it, I don't. I'm slightly claustrophobic...routines especially in relationships make me feel trapped and boxed in, hence why I always have to find an escape and get out of it...run away...chop 'em off...buk! buk! (insider :) )

SIGH... luckily this one is different. He realizes there's a routine and we both don't like it. It has got to change. Idealists are not to conform to the norm.....we're only realists when we wanna be...

"I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met..."

I slept with sunshine in my bed last night. He was warm, he was cuddly, and he watched me peacefully as I slumbered with him in my dreams. He wrapped his rays around my waist, and his aura shined through the darkness...

I believe in gender roles to a certain extent. In the idea that in a relationship women should act as women and men should act as men. I know that sounds a little 1920ish but in no way do I mean there needs to be an inferior/superior complex. Those words are negative. I believe in a submissive/dominant complex. In finding the two-spirit in all of us and knowing when as a woman we should be dominant or submissive and when as a man we should be dominant or submissive.

I want a MAN in my life. That's hard for me to explain. I mean a MAN in the sense that he is strong and caring. Someone who has a Plan A and strives for it undoubtedly and if he does not reach that Plan A he has his Plan B. I want a MAN in that he thinks about his woman and knows her moods. When she isn't herself but is putting on a front, when she just needs to be rubbed, when she's sending out the signal for sex...I want to feel secure underneath my MAN's arm close to his heart and encased by his rib.

There's a man in my life now. I'm enjoying getting to know him and discovering things about him. I know that there is so much I can give to him, so many ways in which I can support him but after a convo with the bestie I'm wondering if there is a life he can integrate me into. What does he enjoy doing? Who are his friends? What can he teach me? A friendship should be reciprocative. So should a relationship. The beauty about life is that there is so much time to explore these things.

He's new and he's exciting. I'm new and I'm exciting. This should be fun...

Nighttime before 3 am? Holla!

Will I ever get any sleep?

I like my life. It's hard and I struggle a lot, wish to cry a lot and laugh even more. I love my besties. We had our version of the sister circle/slumber party a day ago and it was evidence of al the reasons why I need them in my life. They are truthful and caring. Loyal and real. I couldn't find better best friends. I honestly believe that there is no other group of friends who have a relationship like ours. They are my rock.

As you know I've been feeling really great about 2009. I felt that I've come through the darkness that was 2008 and emerged into the light. But it always gets worse before it gets better. Some of my actions have been not only hurtful to myself but hurtful to the people I care about and love because I trust easily. It is the fifth day of a new year and already pain has entered my life.

It will not deter me from my goals. I'm okay with solitude. I have my best friends. I have those who know me and know that the relationship I have with them is pure. I'll do my best to salvage relationships and save people's feelings but its 2009.....ain't no time for that sad shit.

Let's see how this week goes. I have an internship orientation on Thursday. Wish me luck.

It's very difficult living in this world wearing my heart on my sleeve. Whenever the wind blows and tickles my arm just right my heart becomes vulnerable. I fall into a less strong state and I don't know how to deal with the emotions that come from being tickled just right.

And I cannot deny it. It's soon but I like him. I like him. I like him, I do. I don't believe it's too soon. It never is with the way I live my life. So passionate, so strong, so forward. I can handle strong. I've been searching the sidewalks for someone who can handle my strong too...have I found him?

I feel very peaceful this New Year coming in. Very happy. Today is the last day of 2008. The last day 2008 wil ever be a year and it has been quite an eventful and struggling year. Yet even with all that I have been through, today, this last day, I feel so good. So excited for what the New Year can bring and for what I want it to bring...and yes....I want it to bring him a little closer to me.

I'm happy. So far he seems right. Seem being the operative word. I've been single for 1 year and 3 months. I've gotten okay with being single. I got over the yearning, needing, desiring for a boyfriend and I'm at peace. What better time for Mother Nature to fill her lungs and blow a little something, something in my direction?

Happy New Year everyone. I find myself smiling just because I'm happy more and more these days. I wish the same for you...

*'09 will be the business!!*

It's always when you aren't looking...

So the past few blogs have been about flashbacks right? Well this flashback is a lykkle different.

In high school I was definitely in my own world. I had my group of TWO friends (now my loveable besties) and my gang of associates I had my own breed of love for. That was pretty much it. So no, I don't remember him. I never really knew or acknowledged that he existed until he graduated and came back to do the whole "alum doing great things and yada yada college" speech. Boy was he cute :)

So I received his AIM and hit him up. We would speak periodically, flirt even more, and we had a few things in common. Very few, we didn't really know each other like that. We weren't friends we were both just Alum from Robe. And I never expected two years later to chill with him, to laugh with him, to infiltrate (apprently my new word) him into my bestie's life, to eat with him at our diner.....to like him.

I was with him last night and we had a conversation. I knew at the beginning of that conversation that it was one I should divert, run from , send out an S.O.S. And quick! But I didn't. I obliged him and got to know him a little deeper, he became more real to me. And smack dab there's a POT (potential lover) in my life when I wasn't even looking. Had finally really become content with being sinlge, with waiting for whomever, with just chilling, even being celibate here and there.

He's a friend. And that's all im going to tell myself...for now. I call him |b0y|frienn. Emphasis on the friend, separate the boy, he's not mine, I'm not his...he's just a |boy|friend.....

Somebody call me an angel...on speed dial

Merry Christmas! I don't think it was any accident that Christmas is so close to the end of the year....it's a time when we feel reflective and contemplative on where we are in our lives and where we stand with the people in them. I had a dream a night or two ago that I passed away. Didn't think anything about it because sometimes I get those questions in my head but yesterday...yesterday was scary.

I'm a Brooklyn girl with a mama who raised me to be a good girl. I do what mama says (for the most part), get good grades in school, act responsibly, a good girl. And sometimes good girls get bitten by the bad bug. Good girls live double lives walking the tightrope between good and evil. It's just a question of which side will pull us under.

And yesterday was a good night. It started off relaxing, sipping on eggnog and rum accompanied by two blacks, a crazy story from Riv and a follow up convo with the bestie. The night then led me to call Ayiti and be entertained by his antics. I'm never let down when his number is dialed...and then came the flashback. Granted we met almost 10 years ago and had spoken on and off within the last 5 he's still a flashback...another one. One who lives the same dichotomist lifestyle of good vs. Evil. And he's hella good....so I know he's just as bad. That enticing, flirtacious, innuendo filled conversation led me to contact my cousin and his best friend. They came over and I knew angels were on standby.

My cousins best friend at 24 years of age is still someone I harbor a secret crush for. Growing up as the young annoying "sibling" I could only watch "Pstreet" from afar...but now...im still young but im older now. And all of the things I couldn't express before, my dealings with other men have taught me express now.

The night rolled on sharing smokes and coronas with my cousin and Pstreet and the coronas ran out....I accompanied Pstreet to the store. Led him to the store I always go to even though he had plans of traveling elsewhere. He's a hood gentleman: whatever the pretty lady wants.

Walking side by side with my fantasy trying not to blush too hard, trying to come up with wittier and punnier lines than he, we slip slided across slippery sidewalks in brooklyn. I was feeling nice all over...and then to break the monotony, or rather keep the monotony of the brooklyn style, a quick succession of events happened.

An accident at the intersection of Pacific and Howard.
A random third party arriving at the scene screaming at other bystanders to pop off and get it popping.

Pstreet takes my hand, says in a voice so deep, so serious, so manly, a voice I wish would have spoken other words but these, "let's go"....we book it.

I've lived in Brooklyn all my life. In the heart of Crip territory, raised around Bloods, and never, never have I been as close to danger, as close to death by stray bullet as I was last night. Yet even when I am a little bit near, there is always an angel by my side. Always a man, a hood boy knowledgable to the streets there to protect me, there to guide back to the other side of the tightrope whispering "stay a good girl ma, this ain't the life for you". And in no way am I calling Pstreet an angel, he's just my angel. There to bring me close to the edge but safely pull me away. How many times can one escape close calls? I don't know....but with finally being old enough to flirt with my crush, and having him there by my side to watch out for....I have my angel on speed dial...

*too shaken up to reflect more on the situation*

Flashbacks be really making me feel like I still got it...no really though...

He wasn't the best choice for me. One I had gotten constant warning about, and everyone had a comment. From the adult staff down to my very closest friends, no one wanted me with Buggzy...yet I gave him a chance. And he hurt me as deep as a 15 year old could get hurt. It's been four years and he's back. Like a blink of the eye, a dream filled sleep, I woke up and he called me. As if four years never passed he called me boo and baby. Says he's my number 1 fan....he, he "loves" me. And I'm supposed to just spread my arms and legs wide enough for him to squeeze back into my life? I don't know where this will go. My number's still the same and no I won't change it and no I can't just ignore his calls. Coming home always makes me nervous....


I wrote a poem about him. I thought he was so different....I thought that maybe after getting my heart broken, torn into pieces, that a rebound shot from a chick who can't play basketball would be nothing but net...and he was nothing but regret. He hit me up on aim. And I had that flash of shock that only sidekicks could give you when the screen name pops up in the corner of your screen: Ducky. We didn't neccessarily end on bad terms but it surely wasn't good. I definitely don't have fond memories nor did I ever envision myself entertaining conversations with him....goodness gracious do I really still got it like that?


And Danger. Oh the warning signs are up all around me highlighted and magnified yet I'm still entertaining conversation with Danger. Three of four years have passed what am I doing with this man? Why are we still speaking? I will never be with him...I will never like him...I don't love him, love? Oh please don't even speak that word to me...but I indulge in his phone calls and visits.

I'm not too afraid to be alone...I'm just too afraid to be lonely.

So I'm home...don't it feel good?

I love my mother so much. In all of her glory she and my uncle drove all the way to New Paltz even though a snowstorm was coming just to retrieve me...I knew I'd have to drive home, and I didn't mind...until I got on the road that is.

Driving is not cool. Driving in a snowstorm while making sure other drivers are up on their job, even un-cooler but we made it safe and sound to the beautiful ugliness of Brooklyn...Believe The Hype! As Marty says...

And I thought I'd come home, enjoy a night of poetry and reunion, eat some good ol' Golden Crust and chillax with the homies...but I didn't and I'm not. Instead I'm enjoying the solitude. Took a quick napster, made love with Whitley, jumped in the shower, and now laying on my couch with the soft lamp on, toes just a freezing, body still ashy from the shower, I have rekindled my passion for reading. I forgot words were beautiful to me and stories were romantic. I'm shaking my head at home but home is where my heart is and my friends are and passion lives. It's not often that I divulge in the beauty of solitude and growing up has allowed my mother the opportunity to treat me as a woman. She leaves me alone but has not left me and I apreciate that. Our coexistence in this house together. She at one end, I at the other. Both in our solitude but...together. And I with book perched on my knee as I'm blogging this....I kinda like this feeling. The 'just got home and I missed it but I know soon imma be shaking my damn head' feeling. I like it, I missed it, and I missed you.

Now, back to random texts from Southern Fruit and the journeys of Tyler, Shelby, Debra and Leonard in Friends & Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey......

Finally, 2008 is ending.

Spring, summer, and fall have been very trying for me this year. I've lost my passion for writing, found it again, and am getting to know it all over. It hurts to have to constantly relearn who you are, but that's the beauty in growth isn't it?

I look forward to 2009. Spoke with the bestie and realized odd numbers do me justice...i always was a bit odd.

Finals are over and I am leaving SUNY New Paltz behind.....for at least two months...I'll be back back in the new year with a new outlook and hopefully new stories to begin.

Until then, happy holidays, happy new year...and stay tuned.

Reflection, although meant to be purely self-enlightening, I always tend to do it after a session of RealPoetry with real people, and silence. Which because I am a highly spontaneous and emotional person causes me to make sudden and drastic changes in my life...yes they are changes that need and needed to be made, but they are chanegs that are so drastic and so detrimental to my psychological development that they cannot happen as quickly as I am trying to make them...understand?

Queen Godis - such a beautiful inspirational human. Aja-Monet, likewise, and this being Women's History Month, the features for this past RealPoetry were all women. And trust me when I say they are all head-strong independent, stank, divas...i wanna be just like them. And there is nothing wrong with that. Yea everybody wants to be somebody except themselves but in this case, ain't nothing wrong with wanting to be a head-strong, independent, stank, diva...and im halfway there yall.

My phone was set to vibrate, my clothes, merely pajamas, remote in hand, food in other, it was a lazy weekend. Not to much bothering from people I don't really care about. My phone didn't scream at me too much, and when it did, I ignored the call...lazy weekends are beautiful. I reverted back to the good ol' days. The days of sleeping in extremely late, popping in dvd's and chilling. Hair a mess, haven't showered, no lingerie...straight chilling. In silence. Momma in and out the crib, Whitley sleeping on some part of my body...in silence. Book in hand (Friends&Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey) bedside lamp on, in silence...chilling...and thinking...in silence.

bad combination.

I thought about Him and my feelings for Him, which wasn't hard to do seeing that He had been on my mind all week-end...

May your conscience live in your throat she said.

Oh, how i wish it were that easy. I wish things easily spoken could be easily carried out but often is not the case. Often when you try to be honorable and true you are standing alone. When you acknowledge wrong ways of handling things, you stand alone. I have tried to walk as if Jesus truly lived in my soul. I have tried to speak with him on my tongue and walk as though there were only one set of footprints, and it was me who carried him.

I didn't want things to get like this. I had originally spoken up of my discomfort to someone I trusted in privacy, in trust, in total understanding that this was something that I could just get off my chest to he and only he, but he felt that he needed to tell others who were "close" to him. Others who "needed" to know. Why they "needed" to know I have no idea. Why they are now "close" to him I have no clue, to my understanding, they didn't have that close of a connection to the family but ...

I identify with rape victims, molestation victims, incest victims, sexual harrassment victims. I understand why we tell no one that it happened, not even ourself. It is our way of survival. Do not speak of it and it won't be true. Do not speak of it and the backlash won't come to you. As much as people try to tell the victim that they will be safe, away from harm, scrutiny, and any type of ill feelings, the victim is never safe. The victim always feels regret, guilt, sorrow. Sure the victim had every right and a moral responsibilty to tell, but the occurrences thereafter always leave the victim by the wayside, alone to wallow in the emotions of his/her actions alone.

So I apologized. This shit is on my conscience. I felt that in order for me to sleep better at night there were some things I had to say. A point that I had to get across. With every action comes a reaction I understand that, and I have always tried to be prepared for the consequences of my actions, but these consequences are too much for me to bear. I couldn't bear it! I couldn't stand by and watch someone get ostracized for yes a reprimandable action but not one that is uncommon!! Especially to me!! I have handled this before, am handling it now, and will handle it in the future, and for all the good my speaking out has done I wish I would've kept my mouth closed!

May your conscience live in your throat she said. May I always speak on what is right. May I always clear my tablet of sins and walk anew each day. Even if each day I must walk alone. It is so bad? Is it so bad to pull back from society and live in your own company? Who can I trust anymore? Can I even trust myself? My emotions? Was my interpretation of certain actions correct? Now I question myself. I do not take back what I said for that was true and it was what I felt. All I regret is to whom I said it. That is my deepest regret. It has always taken a lot for me to trust. And especially a hell of a lot for me to trust an older male. An even more amount is taken for me to trust an older male father figure ... and my personality is very stubborn. Yes, I have lost trust. Yes, I realize that once again I have been naive and I do not like it. I do not like this feeling and i feel the best way to protect myself from these feelings is just to not trust in the first place.

It amazes me how full one can get of writing, or rather, how empty.
I came across a quote the other day. It said "there's nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein". I immediately thought, "how true," and used that quote to identify myself.
I've wanted to write, want to write, but i pain myself with thoughts of writing something "good", something "worth reading" that i brainstorm for minutes and then defeatedly give up. It is now that I decide that whatever I have to say needs to be said, and whatever I have to write needs to be read.
This blogger thing here, I really don't know what the masses use it for, why it was invented. A whole service provider for writing. Just webspace specifically for writing ... so i guess I'll make it personal, as I do everything ... and write about me.

t.y