Downbottom

eyes wide shut
living life loose
with
no shield, but several veils
upon her focals
unable to focus
unable to see
without blinders
damned blinders and clipped wings
she dims her own light
something happened to her
self-worth so low
so low
so downlow
inevitably stooped
to this
remnants of what was a woman

of solidarity
now a woman of disparity
a woman with no clarity
a reduction
of
self-love
lost

Porn Can Get You Merked

Not to make light of a serious situation, but this is why people really shouldn't hide stuff from their mate...this is really a message for you downlow dudes...
----------------------------
Porn led to slaying, prosecutors say
By Jason Meisner Tribune staff reporter
1:29 PM CDT, October 3, 2007 ....

A Chicago woman who became enraged after discovering her longtime boyfriend's stash of pornography shot and killed him in their South Side home over the weekend, prosecutors said.Jeanette Strowder, 58, is facing a first-degree murder charge in the Sunday shooting of Jesse Martin, 54, her boyfriend of about 15 years, police said.Strowder and Martin lived together in the 5300 block of South Shields Avenue for the last two years, prosecutors said during a Tuesday hearing where Strowder was ordered held on $600,000 bail. On Sunday night, she found CDs inside the home containing images of nude women and lost control, authorities said.

"The defendant confronted the victim, got a gun and shot him multiple times, including two to the head," said Andy Conklin, a spokesman for the Cook County state's attorney's office.Strowder also went to the garage and smashed the headlights of her boyfriend's motorcycle, smashed out the windows of his car, and scratched the nickname of one of the porn models in the photographs into the side of his car, prosecutors said.Strowder then called the victim's daughter and told her "something had happened to her father," Conklin said. The daughter called police.Officers found Strowder sitting in a chair in the front yard holding a .357-caliber revolver. As they approached, she put the gun to her head, pointed it at police and put it back to her head before dropping it to the ground, prosecutors said. The gun was recovered with six spent cartridges, authorities said.Strowder gave a videotaped confession, according to prosecutors. She has no prior criminal history. Criminal Court Judge Raymond Myles set an Oct. 22 court date for Strowder, Conklin said.
Copyright © 2007, Chicago Tribune

Represent

All this about whats real hip hop, and who is real hip hop is a snoozer. I guess you could say, Im a little on the pharcyde of things. Aint really none of this music thats out hip hop. Nas is right - hip hop is dead. Sorry, it is. And I know Mik can understand this, per her blog from awhile back (which I tried to respond to, but for whatever reason it didnt post, sorry Mik).

Instead of trying to beat the dead horse, we need to just embrace it and say, okay, the hip hop era is dead, as is the jazz era, the swing era, and the other eras that have passed. It was a time and place where 'being hip hop' was where it was at (about '91 til I would say about '99). There are some that try to keep the tempo going, but to me, thats more like hip hope - they hope that someone (probably me) will still feel what their doing. I miss hip hop, because when I first discovered it, I was truly enthralled. I was in sixth grade and my homegirl's brother used to play that 106.3 when it was ONLY basement music like Common, Pharcyde, Aceyalone, and Roots and shit. I was like, man, I love this music...it was different. I knew that I liked De La and all that, but something about when you put them all together...it was just different. It wasn't until eighth grade that, at my high school visitation, that I realized, wow, these people are like me. It was a whole school of them. At my grade school, my main buddy and I were kinda outcasted because of the way we dress, and the kinds of music and shit we were into. If it wasn't Tupac, they werent having it.
At any rate, I was madly, truly, deeply hip hop 'til the casket drops...
But what blows me is people who claim they are die hard, yet know nothing. I started crushing in '92, and fell head-first in '94. Those who are premies in the game have the nerve to step up with non-credible, new age bullshit. Well call me, To Sir, With Love because I'mma school the masses (and teach them some manners). Firstly, hip hop is a culture. Its not just music; its a way of life. I once heard someone compare it to being a Rastafarian, in the sense that, its a whole implementation of a subculture. The four major elements of hip hop are: the art of dance and/or expression through dance (i.e breaking, capoeira), emceeing (i.e. rhyming, poetry), art/visual expression (i.e. graphing, tagging), and deejaying. I could go a little deeper, but this is just for surface purposes.
Now, there were alot of naysayers that would (some still will) try to petition my authenticity, and question my devotion to this culture and everything that it consists of for various reasons: permed hair (at the time), makeup (which I dont really wear, just lip gloss and maybe, maybe, currently, mascara), and probably because I didnt break or really rhyme. I guess because I didnt change my name to Shakeelah Sunflower, I wasnt really 'down' for the cause. But the irony of it all is that, the main chicks (or dudes in some cases) that would try to label us 'toys' are the same people today who you never see or hear actually supporting hip hop. And some of the ones that 'represent hard', are straight up fake. I had a girl write me recently, "Oh I didn't know you were a 'b-gyrl'. That used to be my steelo back in high school..." Now this blew me because, even though she is cool, its people like her, that would've tried to test me way back when. If its something that is truly representative of you, then wouldn't be a passing phase. And if its a passing phase, then its really not representative of you. You are not hip hop. Young Jeezy is not hip hop. Nelly is not hip hop. D4L is not hip hop. These artists, and I use that term loosely, may make you want to shake a tailfeather in the club, but the reality is that, they do not represent hip hop.

I'm not saying that I epitomize the culture, but I feel that I still represent hip hop; just more refined. As an adult, I know that I dont have to 'prove' myself by saying peace to the gods and the earth after every sentence, and wearing clothes that are twice my size - compared to high school, where, you made it point to show dedication at any given expense. I am still the same person that will rock the Adidas track suit, or play "Itsoweezee" in the car. Im not embarassed to share my musical tastes and day that yes, I do listen to Tribe, but I also listen to Brandy. And I can see this same characteristic in my peers that rolled in the same circles as I did (all you people that I see at D'Vine that used to frequent the Point, this includes you too) - yeah it was cool back then, but now, we're grown, so we do us, like grown folk do. What blows me the most is the people that will wear their garbs and locks, and go on stage in the smoky, boho club and speak some words off their lips that 'flow like water', and still, to this day, claim they are realer than me because I dont represent in the same way they do - but when, no, really, WHEN did they fall in love with hip hop? Probably yesterday.

S.I.S.T.E.R. Dearest

My Dearest KP,
I never thought I would have go through this, especially not right now. When I heard you were sick, I thought that illness was just another hurdle that you would eventually conquer. I guess I didnt want to believe you were sick....probably like how you didnt want to believe you were sick. I picture Danny, and I picture Jonny and Jac, and I cant imagine their lives without you. Our big S.I.S.T.E.R. in the truest form, you were always there to remind us what was important versus what was not (and what was bullshit, and what was not). What would that organization have been like without you? KP, you were there, at the table, with me, just nine months ago when this same thing happen with Brittnii. Now, you, KP...I just dont know what to say, or how to be, when the time comes again, to be at the table, and it is you that we have lost. It hurts, but I know that you wouldnt want no parade, no horns, or no plasmas TVs or nothing, so, I will make this short - KP, my dearest S.I.S.T.E.R., you will truly be missed.

Florida Evans

I think today was the day that I truly came into my womanhood. No, I didn't start my period. That happened so many years ago that I cant count – but I did come to a real grown woman decision today, and that, I owe to my desires for a better life. And, my love for the luxe.

Even as a child, my mother would always say that I had expensive tastes. Anytime we would shop for things (I mean anything from curtains to clothes), I would always pick out the most expensive things, without even knowing their costs. My mother would be like, "put that shit down, and lets go over the the bargain bin…" Because of this, I was motivated to start working at age 15. When I started getting my own money, my mother didn't really have any control over what I got and she wouldn't scold me for going to The Lark, or Fields and buying a $60 Nautica polo (I think that stage was the worst period of adjustment for her…well, her wallet anyway). Since then, I have always made a way for me to get what I want, without going overboard with it. I realized that $60 was waaaaaay too much for a fad. I learned to invest wisely, and search for cheap treasures. I still have champagne taste, with champipple funds - only not visible to naked eye, though. I like to have alot, but not for alot. I can pinch a penny until another little baby penny pops out, and then I will pinch that little heffer too. Trust.

Knowing this, I specifically sought out for myself a career that would allow me to make enough money so that I could still enjoy myself and take care of myself at the same time. Fact is, I love to shop, OK. I like to eat. I like to kick it. But I like to do them all in moderation (and I am like my mama with them bargains, so I dont pay full price for hardly anything). But even that moderate lifestyle is proving costly in this city of wind. I came back to Chicago with the idea that, if I could just maintain (with some slight comeuppance) the lifestyle the had whilst living in the cornucopia (pun intended) of Dekalb, I would be OK. Key word: maintain.

I currently work for a big name, downtown, semi-upscale social service corporation in my field (say some thing now, Kanye!?!), so I feel fulfilled in a way that proves to me that I didn't go to college for nothing. My job is pretty cool. When I take into consideration what the company is built on (comprehensive psychological service), I am happy that I landed there…

But when I look at my damn check, I am nearly comatose. I feel like Florida Evans.

Clutch the pearls! A negra is borderline poor.

I came at a crossroads last week, based on info that I received about my newfound employer, and I was really thinking about my current and future financial security. I was weighing pros and cons, and then I found myself thinking about shit that would have never crossed my mind last year, or the year before:

-my job insurance is too high, and if I plan on being here long-term these rates will increase

-my job does not offer medical leave, so if I get pregnant I don't get paid. As many kids as I want, I am looking at about a loss of 2+ years without pay

-my job does not offer financial assistance for employees' continuing education. I'm starting school real soon, so just shit on me…

-my savings account is depressing and my whole goal for moving in with a roomie was to save, and this job does not allow me to do much of that

-I am constantly worried about money and whether or not I can afford to do even the smallest things in life, and as a person with champagne tastes, that's pretty darn wack. I don't want to be worried all day about that damn dollar I spent on my green tea this morning

-the average rate for annual pay increase is 4% (compared to organizations of its kind, the rate is low…as hell)

I have a laundry list of other things, but you get what Im saying here. Im getting grown, and I need to (wo)man up and do whats best for me. I am still young, and I think I deserve to do me for as long as I can until I have a husband and 4.5 children to feed and clean up after. And although it was a pair of Marc Jacobs sunglasses that I couldnt afford that really got me to thinking about my monies, regardless, I know my earning potential is much more than what Im doing. I never would have really thought about this kinda stuff before, but unless I marry rich (Lord willing, lol….Im just playing…a little) I need to care about these things. So I felt like, hey, I need to make some choices. So today, I decided that Im gonna leave my job. Not this very day, but soon.

Biggest Loser

So, I had this spiff with somebody about how sometimes a person aint their type's type. Of course, in the argument, I was deemed wrong, and most importantly out of order. My argument stemmed from the fact that although I loves me a fat dude, fat dudes dont neccessarily love the kid.
I can count on one hand how many hefty dudes I've gotten with, and more specifically, how many have liked me. But in a heartbeat, its that bean thread, pole-sized, apple-on-a-stick dude that falls madly in love with this girthesque figure. Now dont get me wrong - aint nothing wrong with a slender brother loving a voluptuous woman such as myself, but like, ok, when are the fat dudes gonna start showing me some love? Realistically, maybe like five guys a week try to get at me. And out of that five, there are no fat daddies. I can't tell you the last time a Rick Ross tried to get him some me. The bony chick will get my fat daddy faster than me on any given day. These skinny bitches are evil, and they are taking my men. Im just playing...well, not really.

I feel like out of all the different types of people, big girls have it the hardest. A not-so-attractive chick can get some weave, lipglass, and French tip, and somebody will be illusioned into thinking she's a catch. For us, its different. We can't completely disguise the fact that were meaty. And on top of that, not too many guys will actually admit that they like a woman with more to love, or its always some shit like, you're cute for a fat girl...

Like most women, I am insecure about my body, but not to the point where I blame my figure for everything that goes wrong in my love life. Like, its because Im fat, isnt it?? But this here is a truism. I can speak from experience because, HELLO, I am a fellow fatty. A gorgeous one, nonetheless. I think its kinda funny that the big dudes dont date me. How can you discriminate? Youre big. I once heard that bigger guys like smaller women because she/he/they can do much more sexually. My thought is, what makes you so sure? I know some full-figured women that will make it bankhead for a pimp. But thats a different blog for a different day.

If the Fabolouses of the world could just gain 100 pounds...

Flightplan

A day of reckoning at its finest...

Yesterday, I got hit with some real self-reflection shit, and it was so true. I checked myself, as I often do, because I needed to be checked. I realized that, in most things in life, I am flighty. Not flighty in a way that one might think (as in I'm not in it for the long haul or I am buzzing from flower to flower with no consistency), I mean flighty, like, whenever someone does something to me, or in reference to me, that I dont neccessarily approve of, I bounce. In my original thought process, I always felt like that was what I was supposed to do. I mean, it makes sense to me, still. But I realized that, damn, maybe that aint right. Something can make perfect sense and still not be right.

I had a homegirl who was a bogus liar, and she let her competitive and sneaky ways ruin our friendship. In retrospect (hindsight is golden, isnt it?), I feel like I didnt handle that situation right. See, this is what I do: I confront the person about the issue, then I say my piece, listen for a response, and if its not the appropriate response that I want to hear, then I'm out. So thats what I did with her, and although I loved her dearly as a sister, I took flight before there could be a mending.

More currently, concerning matters of the heart, I am compelled to take flight any time the predicament isnt going the way I think it should. I'm a fighter, and I know that love of any kind aint perfect. In a minute, I will fight for love until it wears me out. But in the midst of that fight, I leave...and probably leave again. True story: Someone that I care dearly for has not given me the time of day to discuss plans that we were to carry out in a matter of days. We had scheduled some time together, and yet, we have not spoken about anything of the nature. I have asked, and asked, and asked and I get nothing. So naturally, Im going to want to bail on this dude, once again. In my head, it all makes sense - I can spend my time spooning and caking and doing whatever with whomever, but I am making a slot in my time specifically for you, and you are being an asshole. My brain says that because I am not getting the desired response in a manner that I prefer, I must go. And if I dont hear from son soon, I'm certain that even after yesterday's epiphany, I will still take flight...

The first step is acknowledging...and I am not quite ready to proceed with a second step...

For me, to remove oneself from a situation has always been the instant and immediate thing to do, but truth is, I wind up regretting my decision to do that, and end up apologizing for it (or wishing I could). But anyway, I dont need kudos or nothing, I just thought that I would share something I learned whilst re-tracing my path to self-discovery.