I never looked at Black History Month as a pity party or societies crumb to black folk. Each February I indulge in the sweet excess of trial and triumph. The truth is....NO ONE talks about history all year long. So by saying black history should be all year long is to say lets not talk about it all year long like we do the rest of our history lol. Even though we should treat everyday like Christmas, the truth is, we don't and we won't. We are too caught up by life and its ever present distractions to work, to pay, to serve, to care and are heads are spinning tops. I love the quotes, the excerpts, the facts of black history....for a poet...it is chocolate. The acknowledgement of Black History is a powerful one, not just for black people but for strugglin people, down and out people. I draw strength from those who overcame and so does the rest of humanity. My life is not over so I live and I struggle and I look to those who knew the kind of pain I may never know but somehow maintained a sense of fight, joy, and hope. .. that it can be done. Yes, we are most certainly NOT defined by our past but by taking a look back we see how far we've come and also how much farther we must go. But the overall accumulation of what blacks did from slavery and throughout history is so remarkable, it deserves to standout. It is the Oscar, Grammy, Emmy performance of our American History and should be acknowledged as such. Blacks arrived on slave ships with a treatment of being less than human to become president, politicians, doctors, entertainers, athletes. Whatever we want! "A Paradigm Shift is a change from one way of thinking to another. It's a revolution, a transformation, a sort of metamorphosis. It just does not happen, but rather it is driven by agents of change." Black History is one of the main foundations that caused a paradigm shift in American thought and morality. I don't want it to blend in with everything else, I want to celebrate it for a month. We all need a reminder sometimes so Happy Black History Month!!!!

Poetic Justice Prose

Was up late watching Poetic Justice and I was "Lying, thinking last night how to find my soul a home where water is not thirsty and bread loaf is not stone. I came up with one thing and I don't believe I'm wrong.That nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone." Janet's box braids, long and righteous. Always swinging heavy with burden, hanging on to glory. 2Pac's dirty nails, "Give me your hand."  A pure smile emerges beyond the blue and red flashing  lights, of screams and sirens. "Beyond this rage of poetry, give me your hand." Smooth skin, life lines searching for love. Maya Angelou whispers. Phenomenal Woman. Kendrick Lamar raps. "If you're looking for empathy, there's blood in my pen." Poetic Justice. "If a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?"

A Taste of Chicago That Will Ignite the Spirit! A Book Review by Melica Niccole!

Sharday Cage definitely dishes out The Taste of Chicago in her new poetic work called Shadows and Silhouettes. This Chicago resident delivers flavorful pieces that allow the reader to digest every bit of what makes her very passionate and purposeful about her craft. A craft that has truly been perfected to the point that readers can close their eyes and feel her words create poetic imprints on their spirit. These Imprints are in the form of love, challenging relationships, and delightful misfortunes. Her playful use of the word “Beautiful cacophony,” shows her skill in utilizing oxymora to get her point across.

I truly enjoyed many of Sharday’s poems and felt as though I was experiencing her life firsthand. When reading, “Graffiti Mouth,” I thought of something so corrupt or disfigured that no beauty could come from it. It brought to mind people who gossip about other people and graffiti (Slander) their name on the ears of willing cohorts. The poem was upfront, honest, and true to some societal norms. My favorite poem was “Lover’s Cup.” I felt as though I was in Love’s Utopia, waiting to release the most powerful energy in my body; love. I too wanted to “Lasso the moon or pluck a star.” I wanted to sip from my “lover’s cup” and get drunk from my emotional connection to him. The last poem, I really liked was called “Daddy.” Sharday started off the poem by saying, “I was a daddy’s girl without the daddy.” The poem focused on her imagination of a daddy that was so real that she would walk hand-in-hand with him in the park. The poem changed with emotion as her daddy reminded her of a ghost; “he came and went, he was here then gone.”

The Making of the "Other" Chicago

A must read article on the violence in Chicago. I loved it so please cheack it out!

The Making of the "Other" Chicago!

A Note About Race

(I just wanted to share a note that originated from Facebook so some things might not make sense but trust me, there are issues in this note that everyone should read!)

I know no one really wants to talk about race, I mean I know this. It's a hot topic and it's one of those things you want to sweep under a rug and hopefully forget it was there in the first place but somehow the dirt ended up right below my feet in kind of this unexpected way on facebook. I posted a poem by WEB Du Bois, "I am the Smoke King", where the poet finds strength and sorrow in the legacy of the slave hoping to find a new strength and dignity that all African Americans can unite behind. I recieved such a negative reaction from a white male and though it didn't end well because I think anger got the best of all of us but I would like to believe I am a rational person. I'm open...completely! So afterwards not fully understanding where he was coming from I sought out the help of a friend who has this ability to see both sides of the table and from a perspective I don't necessarily understand at times. The white male lol! I had issues with skin color growing up so black empowerment is natural to me but when I really look at it, I wonder how white people must feel sometimes, to always see, "My black is beautiful" or "Black Girls Rock"...you know this messages that they necessarily can't create themselves without being labeled racist or seen as some sort of white supremacy group. I think especially for the newer generations who don't feel that this is necessary in todays times. It must feel unfair. Anyway, my friend wrote this incredible note back to me that I just have to share because he really tapped in on both sides. I feel like he gives you a mirror of understanding into both groups that make you want to say, "Ohhhhh ok, I get it." Lastly, he references the thread where all the drama went down so if you want to check that out first I recommend it just so you can understand what he's talking about. I didn't delete it because I don't believe in that. I think there is something to learn in whatever situation whether the outcome is positive or negative. You can still grow from it. I tried to make this the most diverse tag EVER because I felt like if were going to talk about race, let's get everybody in on it. In the end, that's what we have to do to truly progress anyway. It's very insightful, I just wanted some people to walk away feeling like this helped them understand what maybe they didn't before.



"I am glad you brought me in on this. The conversation (or argument) you had with that young man is reflective of a raging (though under the surface) social debate in our country. Most Americans seem to think that we live in a post-racial society. We do not. I used to think we did. We don’t. Yes, we have a black president, black political leaders, black celebrities, and black people filling all kinds of roles in our society. However, when we talk about them, they are a "black" president, a "black" leader, a "black" this and a "black" that. We very much live in a society sensitive to color. Even you and I discuss our races. We joke, we debate, we compare, we contrast. As a society, frankly I think we are obsessed with race, but we don’t even realize it anymore. And that goes for black and white. As you know I have always been a politics and history buff. And a few years back my reading and personal study led me to read a lot about the Civil War. I walked away from that believing, as I do now, that it is the most significant event in American history. It shaped who we were, and continues to shapes who we are today. It was a war about race, and it was a war about directing our collective futures. The argument that it was simply about abstract states’ rights ignores that the state right in question was slavery. There were nearly a million casualties in the Civil War in a collectively bloody effort to hash out the issue, yet we are still fighting it today in one way or another: racially, geographically, culturally, and the fact we are even discussing this right now. After coming to these historical conclusions, I decided I needed to read more Afro-centric literature and history. I needed more context. I realized I knew nothing about black people. Yes, that is a blanket statement. But, what I realized is that all I knew of the black community was the pop culture stuff: the athletes, musicians, and famous people. I didn't know the writers, the poets, the philosophers, and the thinkers. Reading The Souls of Black Folk kind of recalibrated my compass in regards to looking at race in America. Here is a book that is over 100 years old, but could have been written today. And that is my point. We have made progress in terms of race, but we are still very far from the finish line. I know reading books about groups of people doesn't make me know who they are, but I think it’s given me a better idea of who I am in relation to black people. Our understanding of races other than our own, has to be through the prism of who we are ourselves. My understanding of the black community can only be through my own eyes as a white man. Understanding who I am to the black community is step-one in my gaining a deeper understanding of who they are, individually and collectively. In America, we evaluate the color of the face first, and the content of the character second. That’s not a good way to understand someone.

The guy you debated didn't realize that the topic of race, and how black people feel about themselves collectively IS IMPORTANT. It is very relevant particularly in relation to white people. Here is why he got mad: a lot of white folks feel like there are things black people can say and do and "get away with it" that white people can't. To a large extent this is true. But, that is because of historical context, and your facebook friend fails to realize that. It took me a long time to understand that. I didn’t realize it until my mid-twenties. The black community is a minority community, who has been historically disadvantaged, and live in a white-dominant society. The collective-efficacy of a group of people (particularly a minority group) hinges on their ability to understand themselves, build shared values, and have a common purpose. That is just historical fact. Your facebook friend sees Black Entertainment Television and thinks its racist because there isn't a White Entertainment Television. But, guess what? THERE IS! It’s called ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, CNN, and every other channel. American cultural values and entertainment are still largely driven by Western-European (white) heritage. Removing all the racial history in this country, and then looking at these issues, then your friends point would be valid. But, we can't erase history. We also can't ignore that there are simply more white people than black people. That’s not race, that’s just numbers. And because of that, most things reflect that. What your friend doesn't realize, is that he lives in a society that is largely controlled by his own, and my own. The white male remains largely in control of our society. And so people who are not like us, would naturally want things that reflect their own heritage, and their own image. If I were living in Beijing, China as a minority, I would want to be able to watch tv shows where the people looked and sounded like me. That is a natural human inclination to seek out things that reflect ourselves. In a society of white faces, it is totally natural for a black minority community to want to turn on the television and see a black face. That’s not racist, that’s human nature.

I do believe some of your friend’s points, or perhaps what he intended, are valid. I think our society has become way too politically correct. It’s really difficult for white people to talk about race in public because we are terrified of being labeled as racist. That term can ruin someone’s career. And that’s unfortunate. Even what I have written here to you today would be torn apart if read by a large audience. Black folks would say that I boiled down their entire history and culture into a couple books, and that I think you are all the same. White people would tell me that I think all white people are racist, and that I am rehashing history. Discussing race in our country has become a zero-sum game; one side wins, one side loses. There is no discussion, only yelling. What I believe is that we are a society who has made incredible strides forward, and righted a lot of wrongs, but that there is ALOT of work left to be done. We are the only society in human history to self-correct. We identify what we are doing wrong, and we modify the behavior. This is unique in the course of human events, and it is something all Americans, of every color and creed, should be very proud of. There are still some bad apples, but they really aren’t the problem. The primary road block to progress is the regular folks like us who are either unwilling, or just too afraid to discuss race openly. It’s impossible for me as a white man, to completely understand you as a black woman, and vice a versa. But, that’s all the more reason to get to know each other better! You and I were not participants in the past; we can only be the architects of the future. I do not believe the answer is to ascribe to the belief that we are all the same, and nobody should recognize our differences. Differences are what make us individuals. Differences are what create this beautiful culture we all share. Differences are how we come up with solutions to our common problems, and ideas for our common goals. I just think we are all so uncomfortable with race that we don’t know how to deal with it. It’s really difficult to dislike someone you understand. So, a little bit of reciprocal understanding could go a long way. Let’s talk more."

When I write or post things of black empowerment, it's not to offend anyone or escalate race relations. I just feel there is still much brokenness in terms of the way we see ourselves sometimes and in order to move into the colorless society we all hope for, we need to repair the damage to truly progress. You can't build a home on sand. You need a strong foundation that can withstand anything! Well I hope this was just as insightful for you as it was me! Peace everybody. Much love and enjoy the rest of this great and eventful month!

Nightmares

Day 2.  My sleep places its skeletal fingers over my benign dreams and smothers them out. There is nothing sweet left but the familiar remains of yesterday’s tragedy corroding the inside of my pretending walls; painting its corruption on the surface of my many moons. In the background I can hear children crying as I walk down a long hallway filled with black windows and black blinds. Does it matter which door I open?  Every room is waiting to be just the same, isn’t that how nightmare’s work? It doesn’t matter what you do or where you go, the same scenario waits for you? As I walk in I watch the darkness walk out and the darkness was everywhere, filling up every corner as well as the silence. There was only one chair for me to sit in which was conveniently placed next to my perfectly poised nightmare. 

As scared as I was, I could laugh at the energy he took to present himself with such properness; black suit, legs crossed, he even patted my chair as a gesture for me to come sit down. I could only smirk at how how well-mannered he appeared, knowing that it was a matter of time before he impolitely took over my sleep. It’s hard not to stare at what’s haunting you, the same way it’s hard not push a button that says “don’t push.” Fear and curiosity is a bold tonic, you’re somehow left with a feeling of nausea just to be addicted still, hanging on to every moment, waiting for the chance to get one more look of its scare once more. My pupils crawled to the corner of my eyes but were met by a beaming bold stare already hovering over me, forcing me to fall over in my chair. He looked at me until his mouth, stitched and sewn, formed a long winding contorted smile. I knew then, I was being taken under my will to a place of horror and unrest.

My nightmare was the permanent clue that my shoes were stuck to. I was the hopeless observer, the distant dissector of the chaos at Sandy Cook Elementary. Why am I here and why am I getting a front row seat? But this is what nightmare’s do right?  They take a piece of reality that you fear, amplify it along with your weaknesses, make you utterly useless and when you get to the point where you’re about to die, you wake up. It’s been a long time since I had a nightmare or remembered that I had a nightmare. I mean I’m talking since I was a kid and I think it’s because I’ve somehow I learned to control it. All too quickly my anger started to dissipate the inheritor of my fears and I was fighting for an alternate course to a massacre that was replaying itself in my thoughts. This time, I looked down and my feet were free, my right hand now held a weapon. I looked up to see the gunman a couple of feet in front of me and he was looking in the other direction. I looked at my weapon and I looked at him. I ran lightly like the floor was made out of feathers and just like that I watched him fall to the floor. I remember another scenario where I shot him in the leg so that I wouldn’t kill him just so I could lecture him for hours and THEN I killed him which sounded a lot more like me anyway.

I just wanted to be there; to run in just in time and save the day. I know so many people wanted to do that too; just to get in there and save those beautiful babies. I kept seeing them line up preparing to die. Can you imagine your fear for a moment? Now imagine how much greater it had to be for them and no one was there to hold them or love them. I realized it was a dream. I was having a dream. Whether it’s from a massacre of multiple children or a young victim of violence in the streets of Chicago, in my dreams I could’ve saved them and protect them. I could’ve saved them all… in my dreams.  It wasn’t until I woke up that I realized this is the real nightmare. Sometimes it is our very reality that can be the true nightmare.  









A Poem from Me and Maria

It's been a minute....sorry. Annnnnd I still don't really feel like saying anything at all. Mostly I'm not quite energetic enough to tackle all my thoughts and place them before you like neatly folded laundry. If I threw it at you now, you would be lost in translation and frankly so would I. BUT I wanted to drop in and give you a poem I've been in and out of. It's true what they say tho..."a poem is never finished, just abandoned." Especially with this piece for me, every time I read it, a change something. I just had to face the realization that this poem will never feel complete to me. I do really like it though because it's me being brutally honest and open about the things I would never come out and openly admit or say....but poetry...*smiles* it has a way of sorting those kinds of things out now doesn't it. I also thought maybe you would enjoy this poem that I fell in love with. It was in a collection of poetry and of course for me, it was the most memorable, touching, daunting, emotional one I came across sooooo.....

My poem Naked....


Naked
I’ve been obscene for days
Twisted up in my own nakedness
Looking down at the darkness spilling over me
As my limbs remain out of place
I sit
Cracked and proud
Then shattering into a complete picture
Hanging on to broken bones
Like a perfect breakable piece
With desperation
I bleed
Like an overthrown queen
A timeless victim
Eyes wide open
Because death saw first
And still
Though lifeless
I wait for you
Haunted and unwilling
I remain
A hundred moans that sound the same
Coded in screams like murdered murmurs
I choke from my own blood
Babbling its rustic wine
Swallowing drops of bitter blindness                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
To stay alive
Waiting for you
Pleading my last moments of light
Like a second of hope
Straining for you
To see me
Waiting for you
To save me from my own self shame
That I exist in ruins
But look at me
With eyes similar to Gods
And proclaim me not
Damaged
But adorn me in pearls
And declare me still
Beautifully born
As I die
So that I could prove
Love did not




One Life
BY MARIA HUMMEL
I don’t know when I stopped believing in heaven,
or if I do. Maybe I just stopped receiving heaven.

The sun rose. I climbed into the pines’ brittle
crowns. You could say I was retrieving heaven.

Not a place or a time, but blindness to everything
but one light, pulsing, pleasing: heaven.

We married in September. Everyone was still
wearing their summer shirts, sleeves of heaven.

It was white, there was a bend, and the car
spun. It was then I prayed, pleading with heaven.

When he goes limp, lie him down on the gurney,
Mom. Oxygen mask, breathing heaven.

The hospital shines, our son flies in and out.
The snow falls hard, relieving heaven.

He loves the colors of planets. I teach him
their lifelessness: beautiful, deceiving heaven.

I don’t know who is buried beneath me
but I hear her break as I am leaving heaven.

How can you cry for one ruined life, Maria,
when you could be grieving for heaven?

Love After War

At one point, I thought I could say I knew some of the greatest men to ever walk this earth. Me. Little ol me....have seen them with my own eyes (so I thought)...and so to my own comfort I would reassure myself, "It's okay to fall in love here." Somewhere in time, I watched every one of them commit some sort of heinous crime of Jackass-ish proportions that often fell upon most mere men that stood around them. I guess I assumed their promise or that pure place in their heart remained in tact, making them incapable of partaking in such actions that appear "heartless." I'll always understand our humanness, our ability to fall, fail, make mistakes, forever living in imperfection, gradually moving towards it though never really obtaining it. But in my heart of hearts, there is a standard the human soul should rest in and excuses don't cut it. There is a thick line between soulful and soul-less. You can't easily fall between the two, you're either one or the other and intention is everything. No matter how great a man is, with bad intentions, he's the most disappointing thing I'll ever see. My expectations are not unrealistic, good character plus good soul equals special human being. I understand what this kind of man is capable or incapable of and once a capable man does incapable things well he's just your average Joe shmoe never to be more than what you know he could be. At some point, there truth is compromised and their soul forfeited and you just watch them give up this greatness they could of had. IDK...maybe someone broke their heart (maybe I did), maybe they were just tired of being the good guy but its sad when you see the good guy go bad. That happens more with men than women I've noticed. It's like a light switch. One day they turn it off or on... like it's the easiest thing in the world. No matter how cold the world is, I'll never know how you can just decide you'll turn your heart on or off.

Anyway I just happened to notice this with a guy I used to know because I saw him recently lol but I mean it was just great to see him again. It felt like 20 years had passed when in reality, I think maybe three years. That's the way it felt because when you go from being super close to someone to super distant (like galaxies apart) it makes the time apart seem much longer than it really is. The reunion was pretty much great and horrible at the same time because after you see their face, the reality sets in on who they've actually become and suddenly the recognizable is unrecognizable all in one setting. The crazy thing is, no matter how cruel he is from something I did ions ago or how cruel he thinks I am for doing it or how cruel I thought he was for doing things, I'll always love the guy because that's love in its whole-hearted truthfulness. The day I stop loving anyone for what they did or because they stop loving me is the day I no longer understand what love really means...

An ode to Earth...

Happy Earth Day!

Seeing how Earth Day is over soon, I thought I would share this poem I wrote some years ago but just reading it again ignites those same feelings...like I wrote it yesterday. I love how poetry does that. Its like looking at a picture except the words are the picture. My sentiments remain the same and I'm blessed to have eyes to see the vision God has crafted before us. I pray it's beauty never fades and we continue to help grow it, flourish it, and never grow tired of the art it is.

Dear Earth

O sun

How it radiates my face

Let each ray illuminate my skin

Ignite the awakening that has been long coming

I am now a new creature

For I have shed old flesh

Alas, sorrow is no more

I am no longer gripped

With the pain that shadowed me

The sun has blessed its light upon my face

I am free

O wind

How it whispers sweet breaths past my neck

Allow me to recollect on its touch and gentleness

Your breeze is never too much yet barely enough

Our unspoken harmony is too perfect for even the birds to sing

Your presence is liberation unto my soul

Your air is honeyed like bright blossoms on a noon day

Every piece of me is revived

Restoration has begun

And I am alive

Lush green gardens fulfill my breath

Mediterranean waters yearn for my soul

The Himalayan Mountains await my arrival

But alas, it is Africa I hear crying out for me

Come child she calls

Where do I go when I hear the earth calling my name

To the soil where creation birth forth

As the mud paints my hands

The voices of ancestors spill before me

Their tongues never sleep

The very sound makes me fluorescent

And I am made warm by its essence

O, the glow I have taken on

As bright as the moon amongst the darken night

My God, have I grasped a hold of happiness by accident

Hurt fails to hover over me

It does not chase me anymore

I am but joyous

The Earth has embraced me so

Like a mother to her first born

She has placed me to her bosom

I am eternally hers

She is the sky

And I her cloud

God is made proud in this moment

All that is his

Has found love in one another

In the end, we are all gifts

Designed to celebrate each other

Though when I lay my eyes on this majestic mother we call earth

I swear by it

I have never laid eyes on anything more beautiful than her 

I Just Thought You Should Know...

...and so my brain is clogged. I can just imagine what it looks like inside. I already  know the X-Ray would show my head filled up and overwhelmed with words...thoughts, decisions, problems. No wonder I have no where to begin and  no where to end. I need to de-clog this mess and throw it all into the viral trash can known as the Internet so whatever is resting there, forming minions and things can finally exit stage right and PEACE, BE GONE! Its not even like I'm purposefully trapping everything in there, I just forget that in order for me remain sane....I gotta write it out in order to free my mind, let it go and officially move on. It's my therapy I guess because I'm potentially writing myself through it and solving my own freaking problems....for free!!! Soooooo here we go.......    

Being Pure

I was thinking  about purity the other day and the first words that popped into my mind where cleanliness, innocence, God, water, and a child. These things came out without thinking but just in an immediate response to purity. Throughout my life, I have attached these specific words in reference to purity to help myself understand what purity is. All this came about in my brain because I was trying to figure out  if I had lost my purity somehow. I was always known as the innocent one, the kind/sweet one, the always forgiving one. I never really became annoyed or frustrated by anyone or anything enough to deter this holly jolly journey I was constantly travelling on. It's funny when I think about that girl...many thought I was just naive but a  really sweet person referred to me as pure. She quoted a scripture to me and said, "the pure shall see the face of God." That still makes a very bright light burst throughout my body, I think it was the kindest thing anyone has and will ever say to me which is why I remember it and I don't remember much. And then "child" popped back out in my brain again.
Do you ever notice how ridiculously wise and pure a child can be? Children are not yet very complex, everything remains in its simplest form so when they're playing, they don't examine skin color, they see the heart. Your nice, I'm nice, lets play. They forget and forgive within a matter of nano seconds and they love, love, and love. There is no deep analytically dramatic event  bearing down, weighing heavy on their soul, figuring out whether they're going to forgive, love, and laugh. "Goodness" is as instinctual as it is natural and sometimes we are able to preserve that while other times we corrupt it.  There has always been a part of  me that remained childlike and I realized that is it!!!! To preserve your purity, you must always see life through the heart of a child. There's a scripture for this...gotta find it real quick...hold up....

Ok this is what i'm thinking of.. Matthew 19:14 Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."   

I think of this and it makes sense in some ways, NOT ALL WAYS to become like a child because sometimes we do grow old and tiresome of maintaining that imminent joy residing in us, to maintain the "good" that was effortless as a child; our birthright! We were in the prime of our strength and health, we could do this easily but life tests you more ways then one and after 20-25 years, we get weary... after 30-35 years, we're downright tired and exhausted... 40-55 years, we don't even want to be bothered and 55 years and over, we're beginning to get senile lol. We all go through some bad things in this life but it can't be the dictator, it shouldn't ruin the purity we were all naturally born too. It's not easy to keep it either, its a constant fight, some win and some loose but I believe its never to late to get it back...if you want it. It used to be easy for me but I'm getting older and its getting harder but this makes me believe in God so much more because purity is a gift and it can easily be taken away.                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Letting Go

Ughhhhh Sometimes you just gotta LET IT GO. I hear it everywhere. Family members, friends, Oprah, Keyshia Cole. Everybody says the same thing and they are absolutely right! Why I still need three of four times to verify and confirm...I have no idea but I know this when it's time to let it go, you'll know because if its not working the first, second, and third time, you're just playing yourself, the fire, and the balance of life by pretending something should be when its not. Thank our patient and loving God that he is STILL willing to tell us NO in so many different ways because our stubborn behinds are fighting lost causes. I know its hard trying to figure out the difference between fighting for something WORTH fighting for and fighting for something that's not even putting up a fight. We really have to work harder at examining people and situations to know the difference. I'm getting there....

Missing the Past

I'm not sure why I'm thinking about people from the past like if I find them, we'll go back in time together and go back to what we used to be, we'll fix what was wrong, we'll correct out mistakes. Like they're supposed to have this time machine tucked away in their pockets. Oh I know why...because I miss them but of course I will. But hey, the past is the past... I think there's probably some truth to those time movies that suggest if you go back in time and change the past, it will change everything else including your future. Moral of the story is what has happened...happened for a reason and couldn't have happened any other way...because I am still alive. I have to get all Morpheus on you. I love the way he thinks. But seriously, sometimes memories gotta be enough you know.

Appreciating the Present

I love the people in my life now, they're just so damn incredible!!! Always appreciate the present. Always ;)

Getting Back to Work

Working on my second book of poems. I have like six poems to my name right now lol sooooo I really need to step it up!!!! I know its too early to be thinking about this but I'm anxious for another book, I keep thinking , "What if I'm a 1 book wonder???!!!"...I knoooow but I can't help it, I'll get over it tho. Here's a excerpt from one of my new poems called Naked I've written so far. You're the first to see it so here you go....

"I’ve been obscene for days

Twisted up in my own nakedness

Looking down at the darkness spilling over me

As my limbs remain out of place

I sit

cracked and proud

Shattered into a complete picture"

I have a book out already if you didn't know or you didn't read it. Shame on you. It's called Death of a Black Star and its everywhere...Amazon (you can download it on your kindle too!), Barnes and Noble, Sakura-Publishing.com. I hear its pretty good!  

A Lesson Before Valentine's Day...

I trained myself very early on in life to never chase a man...esp if he's not chasing me. No matter how much I wanted to and Lord knows I did, something inside me always whispers "just let em go Sharday". I keep thinking about that scene in "My Bestfriend's Wedding" where Julia Robert's best friend says," Honey if your chasing him and he's chasing her, who's chasing you!" It was like an "AHA" moment and I never wanted to be that girl, constantly running like a fool  for love. Don't get me wrong, I have my issues-I'm a falling fool. I fall easily and deeply too many times BUT if it ends, it ends and I resume to my regular scheduled program. I look at it as it was good while it lasted but its over now and  NOW I  can't let it takeover my mind. After all the drama I've witnessed and experienced I have something to prove to myself, that I must find true happiness inside myself because I was not going to run to the ends of the earth for a man that felt no need to do the same for me. Why waste so much time giving so much love to someone not meant to have it anyway and suddenly that becomes your life, that IS your life. Sometimes I was mistaken as being cold-hearted or that I didn't care which stings a bit because it couldn't be further from the truth. I'll always care more than I'll like to admit but I played tug of war with my emotions, understanding that the heart is deceitful at times, pulling at you to feel something, anything whether those emotions are good or bad. The heart seeks out the passions and disasters, the pleasures and the pains, the wins along with the losses. It's not meant to be your conscious, it only shows you your humanity. The hearts job is to make you feel everything! Essentially my happiness relies on me so whether I'm single or not...it will always exist within me. One day I had to discover love for myself, I had to discover the love of myself. I will never depend on anyone for the sake of my happiness because no one is responsible for my happiness but my own and  frankly that's exactly the way it should be. I love the fact that I can be with someone and without a doubt know it can be over tomorrow and my life won't be any less sweeter or happier. Not to say it  won't hurt because it does, I am human but it won't dictate me at the end of the day, it won't make or break me. I have to realize I'll be okay and understand that a knight in shiny armor might not come and THAT is okay too. Living off the love of someone else is bound to fail because once its gone your link to love is gone because you never made it a priority to allow itself to root in you. The person  you were with  was your source so you chase after it to get it back, you'll do whatever it takes to know it again. You end up doing things you never thought you would do and it still doesn't work and now your depressed, lost because the love you thought was forever wasn't so forever. Lovers will come and go but love is its own separate entity and will remain once everything fades to black so find that and no one will determine your happiness...not even man.

Sharday Was Here

Every now and again, your eyes on some random walk will scan a short message; an engraving left by an unknown stranger. You'll see it on the cement road, the center of a tree trunk, on the corner of your desk from high school, the last page of your yearbook, in the closet of your new home, a bathroom stall. A brief message that someone was here...exactly where you are now. Someone from yesterday or possibly from 20 years ago but someone wanted to be remembered by anyone who cared enough to read it. For  a moment, your mind travels through the possibilities of who this person was, who they could have been and you wonder where they are now? Are they still alive? For a moment, you wish you could know this person because whatever journey your on now, they were on it too. When I see those messages, I want to believe they made it through life okay, that they became everything they wanted to and seeing their messages made me believe their journey was mine now and I  too was going the right way. I think we live to leave our permanent message behind...our mark on society that says we were here. I can't think of anything else I would want more than this and why it's so important to me I can 't  quite figure out just yet. Once I finished my book Death of a Black Star and it was officially published, I was fulfilled and relieved because I knew that was my mark. It was my "Sharday was here" message that I was leaving behind. This world in short is madness as it should be. It will show you who are in the best and worst of times and many of us including myself look forward to the afterlife when much of the pain long endured on this earth is over. At the same time your triumph stems from your tragedy so I want this life to take its time with me. I don't want to leave here anytime soon but once I do, rest assure I'm leaving a piece of my soul behind

I WAS HERE!!!!

           

"What you know about dreams..."

I am fresh out of the publishing oven writing my first book of poetry called DEATH OF A BLACK STAR. I’m excited, not just for me but Sakura Publishing as well. I mean you have Dan Picone’s poetry book, LOST EVIDENTS! Also on Black Friday along with my book, Kris Campbell’s work, entitled, THE GLASS GIRL, will also be available for sale. On December 3rd, Sakura Publishing will release Brian Gansmann’s DEFEAT WHEAT: YOUR GUIDE TO ELIMINATING GLUTEN AND LOSING WEIGHT and lastly, available now Stephanie Goldman’s DID I REALLY DO MY HAIR FOR THIS? Buy these great books today!!!

http://www.sakura-publishing.com/books.php

Now before I get all deep like I ususally do I have to say, this journey has been a great one at that and I’ve enjoyed this whole process immensly. You want to write a book, hey…I know a guy. Sakura Publishing is where it’s at!

www.sakura-publishing.com

In the process of writing this book, I do that thing I do. I think, I reflect, I share. Soooo here I go…..

We all have dreams. Whether they’re good or bad, inspirational or depressing, whatever it is, we each possess our own that caters to our own individuality. We are complex creatures so how we view, obtain, or reach for those dreams all differ.

I remember when I believed dreams to be unobtainable. That the dream was to dream because that was all it could ever be. I flourished as a daydreamer, loosing myself in the fantasy of things. When you’re young it’s the most beautiful escape from the conformity you work so hard to be a part of. It’s not so much you wanted it as it was the feeling you needed to have it. Like it was the initiation to normalcy before you came to the understanding that there was no such thing. You wanted to blend in, you wanted to be liked. My earlier dreams where of love. I would lean forward with a slouched sloppiness onto my desk as my head rested in my hands and dream of the men I loved who I could pretend loved me back. Oh sweet adolescence… how I don’t miss you at all.

As I got a little older though still quite young and foolish, I concluded my dreams would come to me. I assumed if I wanted my dreams, well they wanted me just the same. All I had to do was just sit there. Relaxed and lazy atop of a big green hill and wait for it like a hurried wind. My dreams would envelop me as I sat there almost famous. I wanted to be a singer, an actress, a celebrity. I wanted to be somebody rather than nobody and nothing makes you feel more like a nobody than living in a small town. You feel like there’s only one dream worth having…as long as it involves being rich or famous. Those sorts of dreams appear most unrealistic to small town folk so it’s almost always more desirable to strive for what most people see as impossible. Who doesn’t want to prove everyone wrong? But I was young and still uncomfortable in my own skin and completely unaware of my real dreams.

College came and went like the perfect voyage. Some days it felt like there was no end in sight and other days you could see glimpses of possibilities. And then finally, there she is…graduation. Then the reality sets in and the uncertainty you feel, wondering if this is a good thing or a bad thing. But somehow you know it was all necessary no matter the outcome because it was the journey of joys and struggles that made the adventure worthwhile. You found out who you really were. In college I found out about my dreams, my real dreams. It really wasn’t about finding the perfect major or finding that great job that’s gonna make me millions of dollars. I guess my life would be much easier if it was. I fell in love with men and it never really worked out. I took classes I really didn’t care about but I had this one thing that surpassed it all….writing. Nothing really seemed to make me happier and poetry was the most of these. I needed college to figure that out…I just wish it didn’t cost me so much money.

I realized my dreams weren’t unobtainable and I knew I couldn’t wait for them either. I knew that if I put forth the effort to seek my dreams out then fate would have a much harder time denying me of what was rightfully mine. Eventually, if you work hard enough, the thing you were meant to do will eventually take hold of you as long as you keep reaching out for it. For the past 5 years, the only dream I can remember having is writing a book and now I’m seeing that dream come true. It’s like reality met my dream world in which they’ve inexplicably collided and have come to comfortably exist within one another. I’m really happy about this.

I have something to say and writing was the venue I was given to say what I must. It’s amazing the gifts we’re given and the need to share it to the world. Whether you’re a basketball player working towards a championship, an activist fighting for justice, or a writer publishing a book, we need YOU out there to be a part of it. I’m hungry for the reader, the stranger who will read my words and love it. For the reader who will want more of me because they understand or because they can relate or even because it makes them want to do something about it. It’s about my impact on you and the emotions I can evoke out of you.

My book is here and I’ve reached a dream as I know you will yours. There are a many more to be realized and more accomplishments to be reached by all of us because there is always a beginning and never a ending when you get the hang of it, just unfinishing’s.

DEATH OF A BLACK STAR will be released on Black Friday (11-25-11)!!!! You can pre-order it today!

http://www.sakura-publishing.com/books.php

My Life Be Like...

Ahhhhh, where do I even begin? Is there even a beginning to begin with? Life is constant, forever moving and your permanently moving amidst the in betweens forgetting what happened at first or what happens in the end. I'm moving, lost in the sky again. I keep telling people to look at the sky but they keep giving me that crazy Sharday stare wondering what's the big deal. It appears while every one's being normal, I've got my head in the clouds yet again. I was just telling Gabby and Wendy..."Where did 2011 go???" Honestly I have no idea, it came like a gust of wind and all too quickly it left just the same, leaving me a bit speechless and chilly from the cold it left behind. I feel like 2011 just stood me up or did I stand 2011 up? Either way, we didn't care enough to figure out who wronged who, we were somehow still satisfied in whatever conclusion came out of it because here I am...still alive and still blessed because I am alive. There ARE of course some highlights but that's neither here nor there...at least not until December 31st who welcomes self reflection and life recaps with a box of Kleenex and a brand new year.

So what's been up? Nuthin, jus chillin! I got a book comin out soon and I'm gonna be pushin that book like a hustla trying to sell a cheap gold chain!!!!......except this book is not a cheap gold chain AT ALL. *I'm smiling* What is enclosed in this book is the me that nobody sees or knows because there's something about the pen that I can't stop confiding in and the paper just listens, always listening. I could go on and on cuz I'm weird like that but it's simple...I can write better than I speak and once you read this book, you'll definitely agree. It's a natural thing like love, you're not supposed to get it, you feel it and you follow it. I'm excited because it took a team and man, did I get a dream team. All our efforts paid off and we truly created something to be proud of. Awwww man, I can't wait!!!!!

I finally watched something educational on Netflix but it had sex in the title so does that even count. I hope it counts. It's gotta count. Anyway, it was interesting to me for A many of reasons. The video talked about how the subtlest sounds, sights and smells and how it can affect sex appeal, and the genetic, hormonal and neurological factors which can create sparks between people. During the video I had my "yeeeah right" moments and then those "hmmm oh really" moments or the "well that makes sense" moments. One of the studies talked about how we are attracted not to the lopsided face but to the equal sided face, which is good to know because if I fell in love with the man trapped downstairs in the Goonies movie, I would be so ticked OFF! Another study traced where men's eyes go when they look at a woman which they focus on the hips of all places. They say its because the bigger the hip, the more mature...past puberty mature and you're pretty much baby ready.

I found the studies during a woman's ovulation interesting because apparently we talk higher, we look younger, and we just rope em on in! I guess I was curious because when I'm out about going to work, there's always a man trying to get SOMETHING. Your phone number, a date, a name, an age, if you have a boyfriend....all these questions I don't feel like answering especially to some stranger. But I would wonder, what is it about me that makes you want me so badly, that makes you act so persistently. Ok, there's the obvious man wants sex but for the one's that's deeper than that, it is a curious thing to know what that "thing" is exactly that is drawing this particular person to you.

Ok, what else??? "...we're going to skate to one song...one song only." Except me Gabby ride to it every time we go out and put it on repeat. "No one knows what it means but its provocative." And may I add addicting. Gotta love Ye and Jay for that one...."And they going gorillas HUH!"

I swear the crazies on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round...
So its about 9am when I get on the 381 bus headed east towards the Dan Ryan and I have my headphones on to tune the crazies out but one episode occurred where I turned the music off to let the crazies in! This poor child on the bus which I'm assuming he had autism or some socially corrupted quality because he blew my mind. At first I didn't have my headphones on but this kid, who was with his father, was talking extremely loud and obnoxious to him about a game maybe, an adventure, some sort of dreamworld he was recounting. His father looked ahead calmly and zombie-like as if he heard it before, completely undisturbed by his sons overwhelming loudness. I mean it wasn't cute like "ooh look at the little boy telling a sweet little made up story." No it was like "somebody tell this kid to shut the bleep up." He was probably 8 or 9 years old and as he was screaming, he spread out the newspaper in front of him like it was a map and he looked up at his father "...And then there was the waterfall...And the monster....Who was trying to catch me....And that's why I don't go there anymore....its dangerous...I don't trust that place." I put my headphones on. An old lady comes on the bus and she's this precious sweet looking old woman and she she scoots her way to the first seat closest to her which is where this little boy is sitting. The father quickly grabs his son and places him a seat over so the old woman can sit down. The boy snaps. I take my headphones off. "I don't want her to sit down right here, Why can't she move, " he whines loudly. The poor lady sits there contemplating if she should just move. Every one's looking at this point including myself. You would think by now, it wouldn't phase me but this kid was kind of entertaining. So the father tries shushing him saying "C'mon now, don't act like that. Stop, don't be like that." He was so calm about it that I figured this must happen a lot because at this point, if that was me and my mother. My jaw would have been on one end of the bus and my tongue at the other end while pieces of my teeth would be scattered throughout the entire bus.

Then the kid yells MAN! AM I GOING TO HAVE TO SLAP SOMEBODY ON THIS BUS! DOES SOMEBODY NEED ME TO SLAP THEM! I kid you not, he looks at this old woman and says, "LADY! AM I GONNA HAVE TO SLAP YOU!" My mouth dropped. I literally had to pick it up off the floor. My usual poker face was gone and I was like, is this kid for real. The kid calms down after a minute and starts pretending to write in the newspaper. He's trying to show his dad something and as he dad picks up the paper. The kid snaps again. "AWWW MAN, you ripped my paper, how could you rip my paper, now I can't use this." The newspaper drops. "DAMN!" He yells. He eventually calms down and I know the dad is relieved and he even coughs a chuckle because sometimes when ya can't cry, you laugh. I just felt like that kid needed some medical attention because that was crazy but that's my crazies on the bus story. Gotta Love it.

I'm one of those extra complicated girls who dated some guys, fell in love with some guys but really somehow only ended up having one real boyfriend. When I really analyze my love life, there was really one boy where there was a definite claim to fame. I am his and she is mine. There was a title-He boyfriend and I girlfriend. We went on dates, we did things as a couple, we held hands. You know all that gushy and annoying stuff people who are together do. Yea well he's coming to my neck of the woods around Thanksgiving and I'm excited because a part of me is still desperate for some sort of friendship between us. We self destructed some years ago and never really put ourselves back together again. We would just occasionally kick the pieces around to see if the limbs still moved and then continue on her own paths that never really lead back to each other. I have a soft spot for him but then again I'll always have a soft spot for anyone that has some sort of significant meaning in my life. I'll never be able to let anyone go completely because once I love you, I love you for good. What do I want from him? I don't know, I guess I just thought we would still be friends and I don't know why that bothers me so much. I also fear he hasn't changed and he just wants what all men wants. To get what they "want" even if that "want" is the right "want". Ahhh, I'm thinking too much. It's 1:45 am, I should only be thinking this deeply about chocolate or ice cream. I would really like to see him though, that would make me happy.

I was gonna talk about something else involving men but it's still too weird. Sorry, its not me its you. Excuse me, I meant its not you its me. Sorry maybe next time.

I recently got drunk off Ebay for a couple of nights hence the great costume I found for a really really cheap price that I looooove by the way. Why am I so late about finding out about all this great stuff. Lets just say there were some nights I was clued to the computer eyes wide open, stone faced, typing and clicking. Occasionally, I would drop my eyes to the time on the bottom right corner: 12:40, 2:15, 5:50. It was getting pretty insane until I didn't really read the fine print about bidding and won a bid I did not want to win. Then it was Boooo ebay on to the next great addiction.

Hmmm, I like that Rihanna we found love. Song annnnnd video I'm afraid. Don't understand why people are tripping about the video. I think it's honest, an artful portrayal of a destructive relationship. Its like any addict who's addicted to drugs or alcohol, last time I checked that was reality. It's chaotic, sporadic, hectic, sad, painful, pleasurable....all the things that make up love and war. I guess I'm ending on that video...its 2:10 am goodnight!

Happy Sweetest Day

I love the last two blocks through my neighborhood at night, waiting for the perfect song to play. Incubus-Echo. The kind of song you want to hear when your pretending... I look up and find my luminescent moon again and the wind is but cold kisses. I smell wood burning from fire places and I'm walking nowhere until the song is over and the party next to me is nothing but a waker of dreams and I'm back to the reality of things. But I fret not because its Sweetest Day and though I am one of the single ones...still the night was very sweet to me. Oh and Happy Sweetest Day to all you sick puppies out there!!!

V is for Vendetta

I blame the city. I could literally see its fight to make me over. To be harder, tougher than the small town girl I once was. In the beginning, I was undaunted by its sharp tongue and cold touch. It was laughable to me, the cities attempt to frighten me with its broken images of a forsaken city or darkened stares from city walkers warning an outsider like me to watch her back. I was naive but I was strong, unfazed by the thoughts of the restless. I was just excited about the journey, paying no attention to the hungry wolves grazing they're razor sharp teeth behind the woods. But then again, I was safely protected by the university walls, completely clueless to the realities of what was going on. Once I started working in the city, I knew the small town act was a show that wasn't going to work here. I had to develop some sort of backbone because I wasn't a princess and there wasn't going to be a knight in shining armor riding up on his white horse in preparation of saving me. It almost felt like it was happening overnight. I could see myself fitting into this picture that at one point I was terribly awkward in. I was turning I thought. I'm slowly becoming....

Barely recognizing who I was one day walking with a rhythmic ease one night as the homeless man didn't scare me like he usually does. I wasn't afraid of being attacked like I usually am. The random buzzing of innuendos from voices of men walking along the shadows could not deter me. I realized I could handle them all. On days I could give to the homeless man, I would give to the homeless man, he understood just the same. God bless you he says either way. I've learned when you're in the city, you just have to be wise about your surroundings especially the time. Never linger, get to were you're going. The men are easy, nothing a pair of loud headphones can't solve. Mostly, what I observed in the city, besides your common bad apples that are going to start something regardless is everyone is on the same page. We are all tired, just trying to get home safely. There's also no need to walk around extra paranoid like an out of towner, just relax.

But somewhere in the transformation, I was loosing too much of myself. I have so much respect for people who grew up in the city. Its rougher out here opposed to the small town life I was accustomed. You have to learn early on to watch your back and trust very few. Early on, you have to decipher who's for you and who's against you and make it known. People have tougher skin and are much more guarded and that's because they have to be. The city has its own culture just like a small town has its own culture. I was trying to fit in this culture and in the process forgot about who I was, always open, always forgiving, always accepting. I lost it all  to become someone I was terribly uncomfortable with.

I shut people out and I closed myself off because I thought I had too. I mean that's how you survive in the city right? If someone does wrong by you, you either do them wrong right back or walk away and never look back. But that wasn't me and I realized I have to do what makes me happy. Call it naive or biblical, I'm letting all my ill wills go. I'm making amends. Not just for them but for myself because all it is...is freedom.

I was walking around with a huge V on my chest and I mask I didn't even look good in all for a victory that was lost before it even began. No more vendettas for me.

L is for Love is my kind of style anyway. I've always look good in that!

Cherish The Day

I'm not huge concert goer, skip that, I don't even really GO to concerts. Its weird because I love music but somehow going to concerts never made it on my to do list. Its killing me because I can't even remember the last concert I've been to. I'm not talking about impromptu concerts at amusement parks or a gospel/rock concert that someone invited me to on a whim but a concert by an artist I really wanted to see and that I paid a ridiculous amount of money to see. So I go into the deepest parts of my brain that I don't even use anymore trying to figure out when is the last concert I've been too.

I laugh. I close my eyes, drop my head, and I laugh. Really Sharday. I'm even embarrassed for myself. The last legitimate concert I went to was the All-That Concert...had to be in 1999ish. Remember when Nickelodeon had the teen version of SNL variety show...Keenan and Kel, Pizza Boy, The Amanda Show. Man, takes me back! Fresh out the box, STOP, look and watch, Ready yet, Get set, It's alllllll that! TLC starts in.....This is Alllllll That Oh-oooo-oooo-ohhhh, this is Alllll That. Memories.

My mom got the tickets somehow and me, my brother and cousins were headed to best concert ever and we were toooooo excited. I wanted to see Brandy, she was my idol at the time. For a minute, I thought I could sing and she was the one I imitated, the one I pretended to be. Nick Carter was there, 98 Degrees, Vitamin C and other artists who are completely irrelevant now. It was the Late 90's/early 00's, bubble gum pop at its best. I remember loving it, it gave me a high....the crazy fans, the loud music, the dancing....its an exhilarating atmosphere to be in. Somehow I must have forgotten the feeling and never remembered it again because that was pretty much the last concert I went to.

June 25, 2009, Michael Jackson dies. I always thought one day I would see him in concert. When I heard about the tour, I halfway thought I would be able to and then Michael Jackson dies. I reached enlightenment that day. Your favorite artists are not immortal...they will die. You must see your favorite artists in concert before they die.

In March 2011, a random ad runs across my peripheral of a Sade tour coming to the states. This was it! Hands down one of my favorite artist. Her voice, her lyrics, her music, all which are relentless on my heart.

She hadn't toured in the states for a decade and I thought I am going to her concert.

Getting tickets to her concert was significant in many ways. 1. I'm named after her. My mother was nine months pregnant when my mother and father saw her in concert. Maybe I was born to love her and her music. 2. When I was 12 or 13, I came across her CD and fell in love with it without the knowledge that I was named after her. 3. Soldier of Love, her new album and the title track to her first single, had just come out singing the very theme song to my life at that moment. Everything lined up like the planets in the universe so it was time to jump back on the concert band wagon and I did...spending my whole paycheck on one ticket.

I was just about done paying online before I hit the Buy button. I hesitated, wondering what the hell am I thinking, I could use that money for countless other things. More responsible things like student loans and for a second I was listening. I was even having second thoughts and then that other side of me said SCREW THAT! You only live once. I make the final click and call it a day.

Six months had come and gone. Six months of anticipation. Six months of everyone telling me how great she is live. Six months until I find out for myself if she is everything I believed her to be.

July 6, 2011 had arrived. I was going alone because I didn't expect anyone including my best friend to pay what I paid. This was a gift for myself. A gift that frankly I didn't want anyone to ruin. I was nervous before I left. Maybe partly because I was going alone, because I didn't want to be late, because I hoped she would be great, because I really wanted to have a good time and enjoy myself. All the hype was ending and soon it would be reality to have the final say. I wanted everything to be great......

......And it was. It was more than great. It was the best actually. I sandwiched myself in between two hot couples who were equally amazing. I was comfortable. I couldn't sit down during the concert. I think she got a look at me. I think she smiled. Her voice was perfect, she was ab-so-lute-ly stunning and I had glorious seats. The stage set up and the band were worth mentioning...it made the atmosphere so incredible. It wasn't quite heaven but it was definitely a jazz bar down the street from it. I was so drunk from her energy, her air, her movement, voice, the music. I didn't want it to end.

So now I'm a little addicted. For my birthday...September 30th, I bought another ticket to see another one of my favorite artist. Incubus. I will be in the pit, rocking out to my favorite band in Texas on my birthday. How sick is that.

UPDATE- Yea, it was pretty sick! 

Why I Love Foreign Men

My love life. (Blows out a loooong sigh, looks left and right, hoping to find answers or solace in this dark lit room. Silence. Another sigh. Even the air remains speechless.) I barely have the energy to explain my love life or the lack there of and has been for awhile.

I mean, I have enough dating, mentally challenged attempts at relationships that could fill a novel but a good long serious healthy loving relationship. Yeah, thats never quite happened for me. Or just a good ol' consistent series of healthy love moments...hell...just a good ol' consistent series of love instances, seconds, nano seconds. I've had short, inconsistent, incomplete, unhealthy love moments with men whom I've loved and I'll cherish those forever but no...its been awhile since there was a mutual claim that I am his and she is mine kind of thing.

There always seems to be these extra piles of complicated, miscommunication, drama, misunderstandings, fear, and pride that stops me dead in my tracks. I'm let down every time and now it just doesn't surprise me. Men don't surprise me, there words and actions are getting so predictable that now all I can do is chuckle a light hearted laugh that knew this moment was bound to happen. Walk out the door and never look back.

My bestie said it best, "Your bullshit quota has been reached." I fear she is right. I'm not the same girl that accepted all the mind games and went running back into the arms of someone hoping they would hold me back. I can't be that girl anymore and frankly, I don't want to be that girl anymore. I'm tired of being someones happy ending, where in the hell is mine? Where is the man to defy predictability, the ordinary, and be something amazing. Something I've never seen before.To grab a hold of me and not let me go. Just so we're clear, I'm not looking for the perfect guy or the guy who acts just like the other guy, I'm looking for the different guy. A rebel of the typical man who doesn't conform to the troublesome ways of our average thinking man today. You know the man who isn't scared to approach you, too scared to claim you, or the ones who aren't afraid of rejection. The ones who aren't all hot and bothered if the time is right, if they're stable enough. Ok I get it! It makes sense, these are things that are normal and should be thought about but why...why can't love be indulged in like a big bowl of chocolate ice cream. Does anyone just revel in it, enjoy and appreciate its beautiful moments anymore. Everyone's thinking too much, in turn, leaving yours truly completely loveless.

Where am I going with this, I think that's why I love foreign men. On the train today, suddenly I knew why I'm drawn to foreign men. Not just any foreign man but the foreign man who can't speak that much English. Aha! Just when you thought I couldn't think any crazier...I just keep thinking and getting all kinds of crazier. There's not alot of dialogue that can be shared which puts the focus on the chemistry, the emotion, the eyes, the touch. All these great things between a man and woman are suddenly enhanced because of the lack of words. Communication is great, trust me I know, I was a freaking communications major but when men and women talk, two different worlds collide and nothing makes sense anymore and all these words are sent back and forth which become corrupted and infected and becomes nothing but a destroyer of everything that could be. Its sounds crazy I know but take this example for instance:

I was in the Dominican Republic and there was this guy who was very persistent and I promise you we were so funny together because  he barely knew two words of English but I remember having the funnest time with him. I remember laughing the most with him. We had a magic that didn't need words, an understanding that we weren't afraid to deny. We were just effortless in many ways, enjoying each others company. We spent a lot of time pointing, motioning, pulling, and laughing. It was quite amusing and I enjoyed every minute of it.

The foreign man that I can't understand makes his intentions clear. He can't show me by words so he shows me by his actions. He pulls me close, he looks at me with passion, he touches me sweetly, his hands never leave me. The foreign man whispers words I don't know or understand in my ear but I like them because they're soft and gentle. The foreign man fights for me. The foreign man isn't afraid.

I love words, that's obvious. But sometimes it's the absence of words that you'll find the truth in its entirety. If actions speak louder than words....than some of the men I've been with are as quiet as a mouse.

I guess at the end of the day, I am not a fan of the big talker but of the big doer. So when words are limited, foreign men are more than happy to make up for it and I appreciate that. I feel like I just found a cheat sheet. When loves pretty much non-existent...go oversees. There's always someone there waiting to love you.

I NEED that passion, the urgency, the wanting, the right now love. Its alive, its lovely.

“Love is passion, obsession, someone you can’t live without. If you don’t start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who’ll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I’m not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you’ll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love – well, you haven’t lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven’t tried, you haven’t lived.”- William Parrish in Meet Joe Black

When the Alien Outlives The Black Man In A Movie...They've Gone Too Far!

I love going to the movies, its my favorite obsession and the theatre to me might as well be a big pause button. Life seems to stand still for 2 hours and everyone is on mute. As soon as the lights go dim, my phone's off and all I see is this huge bright screen that I'm about to immerse myself in and tune into their reality like its mine too. Nothing else matters but the story in front of me and most of my friends could tell you, I'm hypnotized...I fall into some sort of trance that not even the snapping of fingers can take me out of. Nope, only the ending credits can do that.

So you can imagine when my friend and I decided on taking a trip to the movies I was excited because its been a minute. I'm either working or sleeping so I thought this would be a niicccce escape...or....a poor mans getaway. Hey, if I could hop over to Africa or China I would, without a moments hesitation but when you dig in your pockets and all you seem to pull out is a 10 dollar bill and some lint...its looking like your odds are probably going to be the movies. It is what it is but I'm not mad, its better than nothing. But side note, the movies are beginning to loose it with prices themselves...charging 14 dollas...yes dollas for 3D movies that you don't even care to see in 3D but because the only showings they offer at the moment are in 3D, you gotta go for broke to watch there little funky attempt to throw some weak 3 dimensional scenes in a mostly 2 dimensional movie. I fear in the future finding places that will do people right will be so scarce, your more likely to see George Bush at your local Harolds Chicken Shack hanging out with the guys on the corner, making jokes and having a good time.

The first movie we sat through was Super 8...one of those desperately anticipated movies because the trailers are 2.5 seconds long and all they show is someone with there mouth open gasping or some major accident thats got the town all stirred up and crazy. Its set in 1979 in a small town in Ohio and its centered around 4 small young boys trying to make a super 8 film. A truck derails a train, people are missing, suspicions arise, blah blah blah and overall it was pretty good. A little too cheesy for me as far as dialogue but I appreciated its modern take on classic innocence from films you saw back in the day like ET. Movies are so saturated in sex and gore that it was refreshing. Now saying all that, it had its smdh *shaking my damn head*  moments for obvious reasons but we'll get to that.

We went straight into another movie after that. I truly have some ride or die movie going friends. R and G are always up for back to back movie watching and I love that. One time, the three of us saw three movies back to back. Thats 6 hours of straight movie watching, we came in at 8:30pm and didn't get out until 2:30 in the AM. We R Ridiculous lol! Anyway, the next movie was X-Men; the first class....something like that. I heard this was good so I was more so looking forward to this one because its bit more action based annnnnnnnd it was, I really enjoyed it. I've never been into the whole comic book marvel thing so I never really understood the depth to these stories but I felt like they did a great job of showing X-Men's beginnings and the unfolding of some characters and how they came to be, how some relationships unfolded from friendships to enemies, how alliances formed, how some characters came to be good and others evil. It was interesting because I was talking out loud understanding where the plot line was going. You know I would say...Ah, thats how he was paralyzed and I found myself wording the script like I wrote it. But as much as I enjoyed it, I found myself yet again shaking my damn head.

You know I'm not the type of person to be incredibly deep about the stereotypes in movies because we'll always have stereotypes in movies but I blame it on seeing two movies in one setting that both did the black man so wrong. I was just DAMN!... can ya'll just let the black man finish to the end of the movie. Can ya'll just let the black man live! I mean c'mon....in Super 8, the black man was killed almost immediately and its centered in a small town of majority white people. So you mean to tell me, in a movie with all these white people, with some to spare, you gonna kill this only black man. C'MON MAN!!! Outta all these white extras, you can't spare one...not one???? Ok so I let it pass because I was like, they're gonna put in another one, they have to. And behold, another black man appeared and before I could settle comfortably back in my chair....dude was evil...yep, he was on the bad side. SMDH. But what made it worst is that, the main bad guy(who was white) didn't even kill the good black guy...oh no, he had his black second in command do it. So the only two black people and one of them killed the other. I was like oh heeeeeelllll naw! Why couldn't the actual main bad guy do it. It just trip me out a bit I wanted to brush it off and go into the next movie.

So I'm watching x-men right and they have two black people in the first class and its all good right. One scene happened and changed the whole game around just like that. BAM! Black guy dies....damn! And the black girl decides to be on the evil side....double damn! So now, I've just watched two movies in a row with just two black characters where one dies and the other is evil....kinda getting pissed off at this point. There was a whole bunch a white people in this movie too....so tell me why the black man has to die again???? At this point I'm just not understanding the cognitive thinking of the writers and directors of the movie because you know they have to be specific. I can just imagine the writers and directors..."Alright, now we have to find the black man we're gonna kill off in the first five minutes of the movie....oh yea and don't forget about the ones we're gonna turn evil...we don't want not one standing by the end of this movie you hear me...NOT ONE!" "I can't afford to spare the white extras you see for a split second, there just two darn valuable!"

Its funny because even the alien in Super 8 survived, here is this alien who is being kept captive and experimented on...he escapes, undergoes massive shooting and bombing but lives and finds his way back home YET the black man gets hit by a train...survives....ONLY to be killed by another black man??? Crazy! X-men indulges in all this talk about having pride, love who you are as a mutant, fight for your race while there killing all the black people off...so the mutants are inhuman can live but this brotha can't lol. Crazy!

I'm sorry if this offends you but I promise you when you see this all the time in big blockbuster films...it tends to get upsetting and if it was the other way around, trust me...it would bother you too. And yes, you could argue *its just a movie, who cares* but these visual messages go alot deeper than you think. I just watched a video not too long ago where little black girls would rather play with white barbie dolls because they they thought that was beautiful opposed to barbies with their own skin color, which they believed were ugly. They believed they were ugly themselves and that lighter means prettier, smarter, and better. Where do these children get this internal hate from? Theu're everywhere. In the media, music, movies....it is all corrupted with messages and words to help contribute to the negativity people feel about themselves, to hate themselves, and feel poorly about themselves. At the end of the day, I was just disappointed that Hollywood is still this ridiculously bad at there interpretation of a black man. That he is either a dead man or a evil man. SAD.