Visions of a Sunset [Brittinii Nikko Sutton]

At a time like this, I feel its necessary to retreat to what I know best, and that is to write. For most things, I choose to write when I can't vocally verbalize.
For so long, I have dealt with issues of death--in one fell swoop, I lost three men in my life.
The sudden passing of my Uncle Johnny in November 1991 was a great loss to my family, for he was our patriarch.

The even more sudden passing of my father in February 1992, a few short months after Johnny, was a blow to my chest. My father was said to be in remission from leukemia, and had managed to survive a gunshot wound to the neck, inflicted on the night of Christmas Eve 1990.
Two months later, April 1992, I lost my grandfather. They say it was cancer, but I say it was his detachment from his right-hand...my father.

Others have gone since then. Big Mama, Uncle Greg, Uncle Gaylord. Uncle Charles.

Death is not unfamiliar to me, but even when it rears it ugly head, it hurts. It pains.

Today I mourn the loss of a friend. Ms. B. Sutton, you will be missed. Im sure youre looking down on us with all your sass, and snap, and telling us to be strong for you. Im trying to do it, I promise. I was in denial, and I didnt want to hear shit about you being gone. I dont want to hear nothing about no hit-and-run. I dont want to hear nothing about you not making it.

I feel like it was my duty to protect you at times. For that was the reason you asked Samantha and I to come into your life. You looked up to us, and for that, I could not feel more honored. The many times I got mad at you, or cursed you for blowing up my phone, mean absolutely nothing at this point. Ms. Sutton, you will be missed.

I am sitting here trying to think of how in the hell something like this can happen to you, to all of us. Friends dont die.

Im trying to stop this salty water from leaking out of my eye sockets, but I cant. Ms. Sutton, I am not sure if I can do this.

I am always the strong person of out everyone. Walking through shit and mud and doubling back, I have always been the rock. Resilient, and regenerative.

Can I be this person today? I thought so, but now I dont know.

Well you know me, I have to make light of everything in order to keep from going crazy. I have to make myself laugh at things that hurt. It doesnt diminish the pain, but laughter makes one hell of a bandaid.

Im not sure why God took you. Im not sure why he took you at the tender age of 23. You were a baby, still learning, still growing. About to graduate in December. About to get your shit on in this entertainment industry. About to attend an illustrious school for beauty art--which is what you really wanted to do anyway. Maybe God and them needed a stylist.

Im not sure if I will ever be able to say what I really want. My brain is mush right now. Please excuse me.
Ms. Sutton, what will we ever do without you? Who else is going to tell us that "tricks are kids"? Who else will admire Beyonce' as much as you? Who else will love Halle Berry as much as you do? Who else will rock a red stiletto like you? Who else will go crazy on me about not calling them back in five minutes?

Your purpose in my life has not gone unnoticed. Ms. Sutton, you had a higher purpose for me, and now, God has a higher purpose for you.

Gotdamn. I just cant see this.

I have a death complex. And judging from my family's history, one might understand why. Death, is not my friend. Death sure isnt my enemy. Death swings by from time and time like an uninvited guest and I have no choice but to let him in. This is the reason why I take so much off of people. Lies, bullshit, falsehoods, scheming, whatever. Because you never know when youre going to lose them. I hate to lose someone I love.
I have been there and done that, wrote a book about it, and thinking about making it into a movie. Live and let live. Forgive and let live.

My deepest, deepest condolences to your family, Ms. Sutton. You will be missed most by those who loved you most.

Last night, heaven received one saavy, ambitious, and sassy young lady.

Fat Meat

You better believe your mama when she tells you that fat meat is greasy. That shit is like ham hocks and butter, fried with lard, sauteed in olive oil, and marinated in Crisco. Situation is already thick. Situation is already slippery. Oozing. Dripping. Keep on lubricating and adding slickness and watch that situation slip right out of your hands.
People don't always understand what golden opportunities are standing before them. And when you neglect to acknowledge those opportune possibilities, the eventuality is that said possibilities will neglect to remain. Opportunity is not complacent. Opportunity is not permanent.
The reality is that people are people. Human. And sometimes they don't know what is happening when its happening. Sometimes they do know and either don't care, or have not thought about the repercussions of leaving opportunities astray. To not acknowledge or accept a golden opportunity is equivalent to rejection. Although there was no formal rejection, it reads, spells, and breathes the same. Its like someone handing you a gift, wrapped deliciously in diamonds and pearls, and although you're not pushing it away, you're not reaching out to grab it either.
Repeatedly, people tend to let their fears overrule their common sense. Fear is fear and will show its face over a repeated series of actions, yet, common sense is innate and, thus, trumps fear. Well, should trump fear. But it doesnt always. You know whats right, yet because you're fearful/scared/scarred/guarded/etc., you think irrationally and let those irrational thoughts fuck up your gold. You might not appreciate gold, but there are plenty of other people who do. Henceforth, that opportunity will be offered to another participant.
One of the biggest mistakes a person can make is allowing matters of the heart to go unattended. Your heart speaks for you; syntax and semantics are clearly representative. To negate matters of the heart and simply make them take a backseat to external issues will only amplify the matters once they do resurface. And they will resurface. Matters of the heart come first, and everything else will casually fall into place.
No judgements made here. No harsh words. And as a friend, I will never tell a person what they should do or should've done, unless they ask. But I will remember the words exchanged, and moments shared...and so will you. Whether they are looked at with praise, forlorning, regret, or disdain, those were your golden opportunities.

The Colored Section

Just call me Negrodamus. Its not all that hard to read people, especially when they are blatantly wearing a sign that spells out what theyre all about.
I use to talk to an actor some years back, and in the beginning, he was a pretty decent guy. When we first met, although he was dressed very lumberjackish, his hair had lent in it, and his teeth were covered in some sort of dewy brown sediment, I was still interested and figured that brotherman mustve just had a bad day (...he later explained that he bar-hopped all night and didnt quite make it home to freshen up...)
Anyway, he had good conversation, and he cleaned up well, so I proceeded with the ordeal. But during our talkship, something about The Actor was just weird. Not necessarily weird in a bad or good way, but weird nonetheless. He was acting funny, and all elitist and whatnot. Lots of bullshit jargon. As time progressed, I noticed that he was spending more time in the "actor's guild" sectors of town. Naturally so, considering that he is an actor. And a pretty decent one at that. He spent less and less time with his friends from around the way, and more and more time in these smoky bars filled with white faces and the sounds of Phish. Nothing against Phish, but I swear The Actor would profess his love for hip hop, and call himself a true head. He was for the people, and would rock a Bob Marley t-shirt clean with high top shelltoes and the fat laces.
Over the next few months, I realized that The Actor was getting a little "white bread" on me. I always got the feeling that he would rather be involved with a non-Black. His main crowd of friends were white males. It seemed like he was pushing away anything "Black" and only wanted to immerse himself in all things "white". I just sensed that he wanted a white girl instead of me, ole Aunt Jemima. I witnessed him at work, and in his line of work, there were lots of white women present. Their response to him was insane, and vice-versa. He loved the attention he got from them, and he was insistent upon impressing them (men and women alike). His interests started changing, his habits, all that. His speech was different around them, mannerisms, all that. Im standing there looking at him, like, who in the hell left the white open? Now, aint nothing wrong with liking things that are considered "white culture" (and I use that term loosely), because to me, what you like is what you like. And there's nothing wrong with having friends of various racial backgrounds. But its a different thing when youre straight up neglecting your own culture and the only way we can tell youre Black is from the color of your skin.
So, today I realize that we have been on this here myspace and have said nothing but two words to one another, so I go to his page to say hello and that I hope he is doing well. Low and behold, as sure as my name is Tania, he is involved with a white woman. Of course he is. I knew that he would all along. I dont have a problem with interracial dating; I have a problem with racial-identity loss. A devoted lover of De La and Tribe, apparently, brotherman lost his culture in El Segundo.
I always thought that majority of the reason why he and I didnt work out was because I wasnt "white" enough. Its always something with these guys isnt it? They always have a way of making a woman feel insufficient. Im sorry, but I can't not be Black. I love being Black, and being the color of peanuts and honey, and having a country grammar, and eating collard greens, and knowing what a femp or a saltbuck is. To this day, I still get points deducted from research papers because I refuse to decapitalize the word "Black". But thats just me. In The Actor's case, I guess a little cream in his coffee wasnt enough. Perhaps a gallon of milk and a case of Redi-Whip.

Patriarch

Anxiously I await for this man to come into my life. A strength like none other, and a force to be reckoned with. The male presence that epitomizes fatherhood, masculinity, and guidance. The King, the Pharaoh, the Ruler, the Patriarch.
The Bible says that God will restore unto you all things that were lost.




Its funny how things that happen in childhood dont necessarily affect you at the time of occurrence, but reap several afterthoughts, desires and emotions. My father's passing, of course, hurt me as it would any other 10 year-old child. I understood that he was ill, and thus he was to be in a better place. Painful like an anvil dropped on my head after being beaten with several bags of boulders and nails, I cried. Thats was all. No failing grades, no promiscuity, no rebellion, or social isolation that so many theorists may have predicted.
A few weeks before 8th grade graduation, I woke up one morning crying my face out. My thoughts were fast-paced and scrambled. It was the first time I realized that my father would not be present in body for any of my life's accomplishments. Questions raced through my mind like bullets. Who will walk me down the aisle? Will my children have a grandfather?
I miss my father everyday of my life. And many times I wonder if I make him proud, or if he approves of what Im doing. I hope so.


I never want to replace my father. I never, never would, even if I could.
When I finally become someone's wife, I not only marry that man, but I marry his family. Im excited about the thought of a husband and the ties that bind, but just as excited about gaining a father.
After watching Guess Who (although its not a very insightful movie), I felt a sad elation come over me. Sadness for my loss, elated about my future gain. I realized that I yearn for a father-daughter relationship. I have uncles--they have their own daughters, and thus treat me as I am: a niece. A father-in-law is different. I become someone's daughter again. Although no blood, the fatherly relationship is present. I have been without that relationship for 15 years. My children get a grandfather and reap the wisdoms of that relationship. I get a father figure (with everything that it has to offer), and a lifetime experience that I have been waiting to reconnect for several years. I believe that the most high will do this for me. I believe in the power of restoration.

So Maybe I'm the Bitch, Right?

Maybe Im speaking prematurely, or maybe Im just a pretentious bitch, but I seem to have alot of biters (on Myspace and real life, in general). Im not a small-minded person that would be superficial and self-absorbed enough to scrutinize admirers, but its getting real hectic and happening too frequently. And Ive never been a tooter of thine own horn (except for my culinary skills), but I seriously, seriously need some sort of methodology to seize these shabby replications of what is mine, what is done by me, and what I have mastered.
Everyday, I get comments about my page, and how people like this, that, and the third. Okay, so you like it so much that you just have to have yours exactly like mine? I talk in pictures, so I use pictures to illustrate what I think, what I like, who I am. I love music, so I have an array of artists to sample. I love to experiment with color. This all translates into real life. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a shoe fiend. I have an eclectic taste in shoes, and Im not afraid to wear what I want. How I dress is a reflection of me. Especially my shoes. With that being said, I cannot stand when someone will compliment me on my footwear, and then secretly buy the same pair. Now its different, if we're trading fashion tips or making recommendations (i.e. convo with Chells about the Kenneth Cole loafers...and Chells and I have a connection with shoes beyond the physical sense), but for a person to slyly go behind my back and get a (sometimes bootleg) replica of my shoe is just uncouth. This may sound like an overreaction, but Im now convinced that its nothing of the sort...

Winter 2005:
A clear, chilly winter afternoon, Im walking into the trusty favorite, Old Navy. I see a girl, an associate if you will, coming through the double doors and we exchange small talk. She complimented me on my trench, and my hair color. We bid farewell, and she goes on her merry way. A month later, on the same strip, I am in the car with Fortified and she turns and says "Wow, I thought this girl was SO you...the coat, the pants, the hair...had I not been with you, I wouldve just known that she was you". Low and behold, it is the associate, rocking my coat, and my hair color. What the hell just happened here? This is just one example (and Sammy Cakes will tell you that there are many, many more...even dating back to high school, but as usual, I digress).
When I see a person with an exemplary sense of creativity, it inspires me to keep my own creative process flowing. I give respect to the creativity and keep it moving. Im glad to be an inspiration to others, but I never, never want to be carbon copied. I see something I like, and I can bend and shape the idea into my own formulary. I dont steal their ideas, sense of style, or myspace blog formats. I dont buy the Payless version of their shoe, or the Rainbow version of their purse. Give props when props are due, but in the words of Amp Fiddler "I dont want you to be mine, I just want you to be your own".
With that said, I would like to pay respect when respect is due. I have comprised a list of Myspace folk of whom creativity I admire, friends or otherwise:
Fortified Ms Diva Brit Sammy Cakes Mikki B Zo Vic Doza D. Green Corporate Backpacker Mz. Nu Beauti Chells Toi NovaKane Sunn Ana Rez Ms Peaches Usuall Suspect Regular Ol Ty Porsche Dave/Jeff Lola Autumn Lisa Jihan Mano Tia Sunday Says...and anyone else that forgot, sorry G

Swift

So, I met a guy today. He was ballsy enough to stop me on Lake Shore Drive, in the middle of traffic, to ask for my number. His approach was genuine, and I am single, so I said, ok, what the hell. Couldnt talk much, I was on my way to a lunch date (and hello, we were on Lake Shore Drive). So I gave him the number and bounced.
Off bat, he really wasnt my type--he was nice and hearty like cornbread muffins...and yams...and collard greens with sweetmeat...on a Sunday...at grandma's. Arms like ham shanks, peanut butter complex. Sweet talking lips. Everybody knows I loves me a largely proportioned man. But something was holding him back from being completely my type of hype. But despite the fact that I wasnt instantly feeling his physical in totality, I decided that it wouldnt necessarily hurt to see what the mental was looking like...plus, I liked his approach.
A couple hours later, homeboy sends me a text and asks me how my lunch date was. Throughout the day, the texts continue but only for me to be less and less interested in this dude. The second text was asking where I live. The third asked my age. The fourth, fifth, sixth, and so on, all pertained to him retreating to my place of residency. So I draw the conclusion that this guy doesnt really seem like he is trying to get to know me. He didnt ask me anything, other than my age, thats part of the "getting to know you" process.
Meet a girl on the street (literally), and you instantly want to come to my place?? You could be knucking futs, or worse, I could be. And it didnt really come off as "I want to get in your pants" kinda thing, but still. It was just odd that he was hell-bent on coming to my place when (a) we have never even talked on the phone, (b) he doesnt know ANYTHING of substance about me other than my age, and (c) we just met, um, today.
There is a pace for things. Drive slow, homie. You wanna come to my place? Well, play your cards right and you may end up there. Maybe Im prudish. Maybe too Im old-fashioned. Or maybe this man is just too swift for my taste.

Trumped

My mom, aunt, and all the old people I know always used to complain about how hard it was to come by a good job that pays well. My mom always complained that the older she got, the harder it was to be secure in her career. I never quite understood that because with time comes experience, and these folks been working somewhere for, I dont know, twenty or thirty years; they have rank and pull. Theyre the bosses, they are valued within the organization. Well, that shit is not true.
One of my many jobs held a well-respected male figure, who was a high-ranking bureaucrat, hard-working, head of department--I mean, the muthableeping King of his department. Spearheading and implementing major incremental changes for the overall benefit of the company (for several, several years) and this fool got canned. Out of nowhere, like bye bye.

After son was fired, I recalled a conversation between my mom and aunt about careers and work. They talked about how important it was to become multi-skilled, capable, and adjustable to changes. Staying ahead of the game. They griped about how they wanted to know all they could know (and then some) about their fields (manuevering underhandedly) before some young, twenty-something, Starbucks-sipping, designer bag-toting, sushi-eating, heffa with highlights comes and steals their job. I laughed at the thought. Ha ha, ha ha...mmm....(cough)...ha....ha.....uh...um...

Damn. Thats me. I am that heffa that they are referring to. At the time, these statements didnt affect me because I was freshly into college and still broke as a wrist on a gay man. But now, I am my aunt and my mom and your mom's competition in my field. Next year around this time, I might be the cause of some 58 year-old woman getting the boot. Or better yet, she goes on medical leave for a knee surgery to come back and find me at her desk like "Agnes, we think its time you retire." Mamas and Aunts and young Grannys around the world will hate me. They hate us already, actually. I dont want anyone to get Donald Trumped. Kinda bogus that it has to be this way, isnt it?

Retractions

Buggin' out. Like Do The Right Thing. I dont understand men, and to be completely honest, I Dont think I ever will. Mars/Venus? I wasnt always certain, but shit, yeah. Why do men retract themselves as they get closer to a woman? Thats an oxymoron. We get close figuratively, and then they retract physically. Like those mechanical pencils. The more you get to know her and see that she is more than you ever expected and then some, the more you want to pull away?
My cousin Romulus* is my closest male cousin and we talk to each other about life's happenings. Two years ago, he married his high school sweetheart, and less than a year later, they divorced. Understandably, he was beyond hurt. He did everything he could to make the marriage work, but the wife wasnt having it. She was on her own thing, and made it evident that she wasnt happy for whatever materialistic reasons. She literally took the money and ran, left brother man high-and-dry (and broke), and is now dating a white man (which is probably what she always wanted). At any rate, they parted and for about a year now, he has been getting back in the game.
He has met many, many, many women but no one can compare to a little lady named Janet*. They have been seeing each other for about 7 or 8 months. He admits that he is really feeling her and she is the one who he wants to settle down with. Yet, he also admits that the closer he gets to Janet, the more numbers he takes, the more other women he dates. But, to me, this kind of behavior is expected of him. Not excusing it, but expecting it. Considering what happen with his high school sweetheart, Romulus is naturally going to have trouble commiting himself to another woman. It is not surprising that he will not surrender his heart as of yet, and actually stray away and counteract the closeness. OK so...I can understand why HE is doing that.....but other men, what the HELL is their excuse?
This has been a struggle within my girlfriend circle. We have all gone through this, and many of us, several times. Men claim they want this certain kind of woman. Wifey material. One to their liking and meets their specific needs, or whatever. They met her--Ms.Goal-Oriented-Family-Bred-Loving-Sincere-Non-Gold-Digging-Inspired-Cultured-Great-Cook-and-Whatever-it-is-that-You-are-Looking-For--and instead of wifeing her, you keep her in your back pocket (or throw her in the garbage) as if she wasnt everything you wanted and more.
Men will sometimes confess feelings, invest time, and have the heart on the Sean Jean sleeve and then something just happens, like, disappearing acts. How many times can we meet a brother and the brother says that we are all he needs and how much he adores us, and enjoys the time yall spend (prior to/after/or without any sex), and then you slowly hear less and less from this negro? You done got all happy about this fool and now you cant find him. Couldve at least communicated via Dear John or some shit. And then you have to hear from his boy what truly was going on. Truth is, they ALL come back--he will be looking for you five years from now trying to get that old thing back Yeah right, homeboy.

Residuals

One of the biggest rules in my personal manual of male/female relations is to never compare the last person to the next person. Never compare anyone to anyone, period. But I am seeing some creases in that thesis:
Alright, I am slowly learning that I have some residual pain left over from my past relationship and it is affecting my current situation (and those in between). I am so over Thee Dreaded Ex and whatever he had to offer--thats wrapped, post-marked, and jet-setted on a plane to Saskatchewan or some shit. But there are some things that I thought I had in tact, in relation to how I operate with the opposite sex, that have been affected deeply by my failed relationship with Thee Dreaded Ex.
Talk about shaken faith.
Of course, naturally, this happens. A failed relationship forces you to better yourself, realize your potential, recognize what it is you need and what you have to offer. You learn. You grow. Become wiser. But even with all this learning and growing, I am unsure as to what to think of certain occurences, instances, matters, etc.
Lets say, something happens with your current love--reminiscent of something in your failed relationship (i.e. befriending an ex girl). Is this (a) an indicator or sign that the current love may end as shitty as the failed love or (b) something completely different or better yet, merely, nothing.
Sometimes I cannot tell if things that happen are a pre-cursor to another hellish experience, or if they are just mere happenings. I dont want another guy to ever, ever pay for what the last man did. After all, he is a different guy. But at the same token, I cant tell if I should be on alert cause something like this kinda sorta did lightweight happen with John, James, Willie, or Fred. Its a slippery slope.
And then comes the resolution of whatever occurences, instances, matters, etc. (which usually tends to end up being far different from whatever John, James, Willie, or Fred is/was doing or did).
Sometimes I think, I should have the wisdom to know the difference. I really should. At other times I think, Im young and Im still learning. I think about my relationship with Thee Dreaded Ex and feel that being with him throughout the garbage helped me learn how to deal with certain situations better. But some things, I just cant help but to wonder if Im being gassed (again) by all men I encounter romantically.

Nouyourke

Ahh yes, its been a long time...I shouldnt'na left you...without a dope beat to step to...
New York was stupendous. Sadly to say, I did go to SoHo, but I didnt see my place of solace. Damnit confusing NY streets. Saw a purse get bootlegged right before my eyes. I heard five people say "fuggidahboudit". The people were rude as hell. But overall, I loved it. One down, four to go.

Fallin' for Soho...

Is it possible to have a longing
for something youve never seen before? You see it, and you know its perfect
but you have no physical connection to it whatsoever....
I am desperately needing to travel.
As of today, I already have three trips in the works. Two confirmed, and one processing. I am too young to not travel and do the things I want to do. I have at least six places across the globe that I plan on conquering...
I am going to Nueva York in a couple weeks, and I am really looking forward to it. In my search for a NY
telly, I come across the most
beautiful, peaceful, and serene
venue that I have ever encountered.
I am in love
with this place and all it has to offer. First of all, I have always wanted to visit SoHo and of course, go shopping. But never, ever, would I think of creating
a space of solace and piece/peace of mind
and I have found the place to do just that. I am amazed that I can do what I love to do, and do what I need to do
in the same space. This place that I speak is the SoHo Grand Hotel (if anyone has ever been there, do tell!).

This place is gorgeous.
I am absolutely infatuated with this place. And this is just a taste. Imagery is definitive.
I could enjoy some serious time here. Just to be
peaceful and write, study, kiss, love, and hug here.
I would
douse myself and bathe
with this place. The weekend packages are to die for...and yall know how I been craving for that unwinding weekend.
I had to share this. I had to. Looking at the pictures is really putting me in a tranquil
demeanor. I better get here....

Blown Weekly [Metro]

I am so tired of metrosexuals. That shit is not real. Thats just an excuse for bitchmade dudes to go and get pretty (like theyve always dreamed). Dude, you are not Usher--and even when Usher does it, its not cool. I dont dig that metrosexual look, so maybe Im just being biased. I mean, aint nothing wrong with a guy wanting to look nice; its a problem when you get your hair and nails done more than the kid. When I touch a man, I dont want to feel like Im touching myself--soft skin nourished with Lavender oils, and neatly buffed nails and cuticles dipped in pineapple cuticle cream. No thank you. It took Jigga to tell these fools to "throw on a suit and get it tapered up" in order for them to finally stop wearing team paraphernalia. But for real, its going too damn far. It really shows when a guy tries too hard. That metrosexual look looks like a guy is trying to be sexy, when it should naturally come out. I think a man is sexiest in sweatpants and a clean t-shirt (yum....) oh and white socks (something bout them white socks....) But oh no, not Mr. Metro. Rocking this damn button-up, blazer, Kenneth Cole pointy toes, man-purse, hella jewelry, and them damn sunglasses. Im tired of seeing these dudes with the Jeezy darkboys on in the club/on campus/in the mall. The Jeezy darkboys blow me. Ryan Seacrest is the posterboy for metrosexuals. Anyway...

Confessions of a Shopaholic

So, I think Im officially a shopaholic. I mean, like for real this time. Not quite like Hillary from Fresh Prince, but uh, almost. I have been contemplating getting (another) side hustle simply to support my shopping habit, ahem, I mean, my AmEx bill. I have always been into fashion, but you know, just as a window shopper. Like "ooooh, thats perty..." But now that I can actually (kinda) afford the things I want, I am not coy about purchasing.
So, Im sitting up here thinking, "damn, I want these Adidas P.E. 2's so bad", and theyre $70 (relatively an OK price), but since yours truly is truly cheap (frugally luxe, but the operative word is frugal) I am not willing to pay that much. Anyone who knows me knows that I will find what I want for the price that I want.

So, I scour the internet (anyone who knows me knows I can find anything, and anyone on the internet...celebs too, heh) and I finally find them at Nordstrom.com, but still, $69.99 (a penny cheaper, oooh yea). But here's the aha moment: thanks to abundant AmEx spending, I have an abundant amount of AmEx rewards points, which can get me a $50 Nordstrom gift card, which will allow the kid to pay only $20 for shoes I absolutely adore Now, the fact that I was able to do all this and strategically think about how I can come up on these shoes proves that I am an shopaholic, and for that, I am ashamed.

So, while Im making confessions, I might as well lay it all out on the table:
I go online and "window shop" every night. I am addicted to this crack that we call SuperTarget (ok ok, and regular Target too....and Target Greatland). I go to Super Wal-Mart about three times a week. When I get my money from thee dreaded ex, I will spend it on these Gucci glasses that are to die for. I buy alot of sh*t off eBay (like, a whole lot). I know where the secret clearance section is in every major store in Dekalb. Well, enough of this....off to Sephora.com

Weekend [Suite Edition]

After this joyous weekend of being with myself (and loving every minute), I also felt so inclined to be with someone else.
To just
be
with
someone
else.
Traveling through thoughts of what a weekend could should ought to be.
frittata hash browns vanilla chamomile tea dolloped with milk
shower & shave cleanse & bathe serene clean
his arms my head nestled in the crevices of
the comfort of a man
legs curved intertwined amongst pillows and throws touching toes
listening with lips talking with eyes touching with words
quietly nap breath on my back and neck
awaken to sound Najee Coltrane for Lovers
awaken to nourishment Chinese take-out feeding with hands
simple pleasures winding down massaging speaking with hands
choc o lat draped skin hips chest tongue and cheek
night glow fingers through hair set free
how beautiful
only a matter of time

Know These Things: Shouldn't You

Before I indulge myself in a lovely weekend of shopping and Sex & the City, I must blog:
When I was younger, I would always hear older women say that a man doesn't know who he is until he knows what kind of woman he wants. And in the movie The Brothers, Jackson's mother says the same exact thing. This is very true ladies. I swear it is.
Jackson was on an endless path of nothingness when it came to love because he could not fully understand himself and his issues with commitment. Thus, until he truly realized what he was looking for on a greater scale (and in relationships on the whole) he was a failure at all previous relationship endeavors.

Ok, so what had happened was...in a conversation with one of my male counterparts, he revealed to me that deep down, he wishes that he had someone there for him. He yearns for a woman that can be strong when he is weak, provide him with reassurance, and support all of his goals/dreams. He wants a hug at the end of the day. More specifcally, he wants companionship.

Weeks later, in a conversation with the same male counterpart, he told me that he is "not interested in having a relationship" because of this, that, and the third. He also runs down a few qualities that he deems necessary in a chick--which were mainly superficial. So, immediately, I am forced to refer to that conversation we had previously. But, I didnt bother to mention it--mainly because I concluded that this man has no idea of what the hell he wants. Situation seemed kinda ill.

But then I remember the words of my mother...other mothers...Jackson's mother. Until he becomes grounded and has knowledge of what qualities are important to him, and to a relationship that suits his needs, he has no idea who he is. Identity is not present. He cannot be ID'd because he cannot ID what kind of woman he wants to be his Queen. What kind of woman will grasp his magnetism.

Ever notice how when you ask most men what they look for in a woman, they usually kick you a list of physical qualities, and then throw in something like "she gotta have her head on straight"? But ask any (sane) woman and she will kick you a couple physical qualities (usually those are not etched in stone) and a shitload of character qualities. Superficial and petty things are not key to a successful relationship, sorry guys.
Learning of what intrigues them about the opposite sex (or same sex, however ones gets down) helps men to learn themselves spiritually, emotionally, and romantically.

Unfortunately, I found out long ago, that unlike women, who learn personal pleasures/joys/dislikes/distastes from past relationships, men dont really learn much about themselves from past relationships; there is usually not much easily indentifiable personal growth from a past relationship when it comes to men. With women, we learn "the lesson" rather quickly; we are the ones who say "being with him showed me that I can blah blah blah". While men take years and years to realize what the hell actually went down, then its like "she showed me the real meaning of blah blah blah".

When a man finally discovers what kind of woman needs, that man will unravel on so many levels. Watch him open up emotionally, watch his state of mind change.

So, I guess we need to be patient ladies. Most of us twentysomething womanistas have returned from our journeys of self-discovery (kudos to lots of Iyanla Vanzant scripts and Jill Scott CDs), so let these men do it their way.

Spiritually Anorexic

I had the opportunity to semi-attend a wonderful event with speaker Debrena Johnson Gandy. This woman is great. Anyway, she touched on some serious issues such as spiritual cleansing, and spiritual well-being. Gandy made a startling statement that "2006 America is spiritually anorexic". America, on the whole, does not foster nor encourage upkeeping of the spirit.

Now, I have, for the most part, been very spiritually aware, but after listening to Gandy speak for an hour (I had to bounce early to watch Girlfriends, and so what?!) I learned that I was indeed guilty of not completely taking care of my spirit.

The main point I gathered from Gandy was the importance of subtraction; subtracting all these extras that are not neccessary, or that do not bring joy, clear air, happiness, and sheer comfort. We know whats good for the body and we feed it that; vitamins, good ole green veggies, no trans fat, hell, I cant say the last time I bought cane sugar because I steal so much Splenda from Starbucks. But the problem is that we dont know what to do to nurture the spirit. And that is what I plan to keep working on. I know a few ways to do this, but there are so many other ways Gandy has opened my mind to, and that my friend, is my new quest.

I Cram to Understand You

When I first caught wind of that MC Lyte joint, I never really quite understood what she meant. But now, I can totally feel that--I literally have to cram to understand people.
The reaping and sowing process is an easy one to understand. Alrighty, so.....why do folks keep sowing and expect to not reap the raft? I mean, we have all done our dirt (mine, kinda minor) but you cannot keep up certain behavior patterns and not expect for that sh*t to follow you and affect your life.

You heard granny when she told you that you "made ur bed, now lay in it". One time incidents can be forgiven and sometimes surpassed over time, but recurring incidents/behavior is not going to simply slide.

You cannot keep shitting around @ work and expect to get a raise.

You cannot get @ several dudes that roll in the same circles and expect for that to go unspoken, or for them to respect you.

You cannot keep cheating on ur girl and expect her to stay with yo bum @ss.
You cannot keep telling this man that its his baby when its really not, and expect to live happily ever after.
Amongst others, it is these people who I cram to understand....
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Why does it take for the relationship have to be over in order for a man to realize what he lost??? In the midst of doing this blog, I get a phone call from thee dreaded ex and he asks a series of questions and wants to know "am I still talking to..."

Dun, son, Imma need for you to fall back OK.

The Difference: From experience, I know that women know in the beginning what kind of man they have. If we got us a good man, we know it (and dont need validation from anyone). We are going to do whatever is in our power to keep that good man, and that even means tolerating some minor (and sometimes major) bullsh*t.

Why does it take for us to break up completely, I mean completely, for them to see us whole? So who was he seeing when we were together? Because, I'm the same person I was back then.
You appreciate me more than ever now that I have sought out real love from somewhere else. Unreal.
The Difference: Men are thinking; thinking about how much they f'd up and suddenly realizing what that woman had to offer. Women are thinking; thinking about how she is so glad she left his trifling, stifling @ss and how there isnt a chance in hell for rekindling.

Now, I cram to understand that sh*t.

The Gifts

At least once a week I make startling revelations. I even shock myself. Recently, I have been noticing that I have a whole lot to offer. I mean, I already knew, but to see myself (my thoughts, productivity, rationalism, brilliance, communication styles, compromising styles, goals, etc.) in action is a beautiful thing. This is in no way a tootage of my own horn, I am just really, really appreciating me for being me right now.

Soiree at my house in about 18 hours, and I am just now finally having a seat from slaving over a hot stove. Ginger Thai Ribs. Wings spiced with Serrano, Poblano, and Jalapeno puree. Chicken Salad in a Hawaiian Bread Bowl. Penne Rigate Salad with a Sun-Dried Tomato and Basil Pesto Sauce. For a crowd of ladies that I hope will enjoy every single bite. Not that I mind cheffing around; I love to feed. God had blessed these hands, heart, and mind with culinary know-how.

Which brings me to my point.

I feel like I have so much to offer, but I am not being given the opportunity to share myself. I am beginning to wonder if these gifts will be become useful in the output of a successful marriage and children, or will these gifts go to waste and become indirectly obselete?
I appreciate my kind of woman, because I am a rare breed and I know that. But, it seems to me that in order to get male/female relations/relationships to fly, something has to be wrong with me, or with him, or with us as a couple period. I can get shit to launch, but I cant get it to soar.

Crazy people dont have a problem mating up. Its us sane people that are experiencing that romantic drought. Don't get me wrong--I meet men, and I get at a few people, but I am lacking expression. I dont need to be in a relationship to do that; just someone who I enjoy the company of. My Aunt Frances always told me that if you want a man to be all yours, you have to show him why he should be. I just dont think those opportunities arise for me.
I wanna share my gifts; wrap them up and make them pretty. I dont want my gifts to go to waste like day-old bread.

Extracting Myself From the Game

Im officially extracting myself from the game as of today. Its no longer fun being single and being "back out there" because it aint much out there to bounce back on.
Im tired of corny one liner's like "What it do Ma?" and ignoramous comments about my "big @ss titties". Grow the F up.
Im tired of not having jack shit in common with someone other than the fact that we both know RayRay from the block.
Im tired of the sudden popularity and fascination with non-Black women (Island chicks are whats hot, being a Black chick is played out about now).
Im tired of these bourgie @ss men that have these uber high ass standards. Actually, it aint just the bourgies that are being ridiculously picky. Being cute just aint enough for a man these days. I will not ever look like that chick in the King mag because I dont have any airbrush handy, nor tittie tape, and I dont wear makeup, oh yah, I dont ever, ever wear tracks.
Im tired of lying @ss dudes, talking big shit about what they have and how they are producers and rappers and shit, and that they make beats and shit in their cousin's studio on the West side. Sure son.
Im tired of men that are competitive. Thats the lamest shit ever. Accentuate and complement me, not compete with me, lame.
Im tired of guys that want something for nothing. Dont come over my house and eat all my damn food and you dont have shit to offer (emotionally, physically, conversationally, etc.)
So, Im officially withdrawing my card and Im going to fold, hands down.

I Learned Alot of Sh*t Today - Ashton Kutcherisms + Sex)

I read something in a magazine that was f*cking phenomenal today:

"I could be with whoever gets my rocks off. Or I could be with this person who is giving and caring, who values me as I really am and who believes in me more than I believe in myself. There's the choice. You could fuck around like a man-ho. Or you could be about something real. I'd rather go for that something real." - Ashton Kutcher

Yes, Ashton f*cking Kutcher said that. This is that real sh*t. Real talk. I wouldn't settle for anything less. I, for one, was surprised that this actually was said by a man, and more preferably a male celebrity. This is what I feel everyday, and to actually read it in words, I was like "yes, Ashton, abso-f*ckin-lutely". Makes alot of sense to me. But some people would rather have a series of insignificants, than a lasting, fruitful union of the souls. I think many men are afraid of a good woman. What does one gain from said exploits? I dont see any real benefits. But thats another story for another blog...

I learned alot about sex today; not from having it, but reading about it. Just a gang of ish that I cannot and will not discuss on a blog, but will definitely carry into my boudoir...

I also had realization of what foreplay really is. Foreplay, if you really break this ish up into prefix and suffix and all that jazz, is the engaging and intertwining of partners prior to sexual acts. Thus foreplay is not limited to the literal acts that one performs that are directly related to sex (kissing, grinding, groping, etc.); foreplay can exist and be performed on so many levels. Going to dinner, having a deep conversation, sharing a laugh--all of that can be considered foreplay, as it is what engages and intertwines partners (in the same way the kissing and all that other shit does). That all happens "fore" the "play" and makes for a good sexual stimulus. A good conversation can lead to good sex. Sex is mental to begin with, so if youre cognitively engaged, there you have it.

Dang, I wish I had known this in the past.....

Dating My Damn Friends

I am sick and tired of dating my friends. Not "dating my friends" as in dating someone who is a male friend of mine, but literally dating my damn friends, like going on what would normally be considered romantic experiences under male/female circumstances, except engaging in said experiences with my damn friends.
Weeks ago, Im sitting in Olive Garden with its beautiful decor, dim lights, quiet chatter, romantic mood, and white wine...lovely aint it?
But not when youre doing so with your female buddies. The whole damn time Im thinking, why am I am not here with a man?
My friends and I, we go on walks in the park, dinner at nice restaurants, see movies, go to museums, etc. so on and so forth. Yeah, its fun to chop it up with the homies (I love my friends!) but daayyyyumm, can I do this shit with a man????
I love a good ol' girls night, but every damn time should not be girls night. When is somebody going to take me out on date???? And not just anybody cause then that won't fulfill my need.
I am really serious about this. Is dating like, played out or something? Did that memo not reach me? I have only been on one date and that actually was two years ago. I was 22 years old before I had a real dating experience. There is something terribly wrong here.
Is it that men aint got they shit together, or is it that women are so self-sufficient and can "take themselves out" that men dont even bother to court us? Or the even bigger question is whether or not this is just happening to me.

Now that I am officially the blogger, I guess I am going to start blogging my life away. After a mini-marathon of Sex & the City, I have drawn a major conclusion: when it comes to relationship status in society, universally speaking, there are only two options. Either youre married or you're single. So, ok, duh right. But looking further into it.....any other title goes unrecognized and unacknowledged. It seems as if all the shit that you do in between singledom and marriedhood is obselete. An older woman at my job asked me was I married and I said "no", and she said "okay, so youre single" as if there is nothing in between. Even if youre seeing/dating someone, or having sort of adult version of "going with" someone, because its not marriage, it does not get the pleasure and rank to be titled, because its not marriage. No matter how happy and content you may be with your romantic situation, since its not marriage, you're considered single. Situation seems kinda ill.

Perhaps its because we (twentysomething folk) are expected to be heading towards marriage real soon, I dont know. Once you get a certain age, people just do not honor no bf/gf, dating, "seeing" someone. Maybe Im late in the game on realizing this, but it puts some thoughts into my mind though.