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.
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
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.
