It doesn't bother me too much to stand out. Don't get me wrong. I don't like unnecessary attention or desire to be the center of attention but when it is handed to me, I try to make the best of it. In some ways it can be annoying cuz I try to blend so that i can observe people.
A friend was just talking to me about her size. She said she didn't feel comfortable in certain settings because of it. Well, what I have learned is: Confidence is everything. I don't worry about people not liking me, because I like myself. I carry myself in a way that shows that if you don''t like me, its ok- you don't have to. I LIKE ME. That's what matters. Usually when you are comfortable with yourself, others are comfortable with you as well and it makes surroundings less awkward.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
A Man's World
A MAN's world
he says
and i should just be content with being in
"HIS" world...
he says
and like fire to gasoline
i ignited
not sure if i should accept what he said
or fight it
His world
he says
forgetting that half of this kingdom-i made
years of being enslaved
and it was I who worked beside him in those cotton fields
it was I who watched our brothers and sisters killed
right along beside him
now this world is "HIS",
forgetting that i gave birth to his kids
and birthed his nation
as if all of this was done through his own masterbation
His words came way too quick like a pre-mature ejaculation
i could tell those thoughts weren't premeditated
just outdated
something he'd heard from some backwoods sexist individual
who had only taken what he believed but didn't check out the visual>
had somehow got it twisted inside his mental
that man had done this all on his own...
Made himself more important than the MAN on the thrown
and set OUR people in HIS world back a couple hundred years.
Had I not been the vessel used in which to carry us in?
was it not partnership that set up for this win?
I was made from your rib to be by your side
made to help you when life got rough despite your pride
but this is man's world, and I should just be content living in it.
he says
and i should just be content with being in
"HIS" world...
he says
and like fire to gasoline
i ignited
not sure if i should accept what he said
or fight it
His world
he says
forgetting that half of this kingdom-i made
years of being enslaved
and it was I who worked beside him in those cotton fields
it was I who watched our brothers and sisters killed
right along beside him
now this world is "HIS",
forgetting that i gave birth to his kids
and birthed his nation
as if all of this was done through his own masterbation
His words came way too quick like a pre-mature ejaculation
i could tell those thoughts weren't premeditated
just outdated
something he'd heard from some backwoods sexist individual
who had only taken what he believed but didn't check out the visual>
had somehow got it twisted inside his mental
that man had done this all on his own...
Made himself more important than the MAN on the thrown
and set OUR people in HIS world back a couple hundred years.
Had I not been the vessel used in which to carry us in?
was it not partnership that set up for this win?
I was made from your rib to be by your side
made to help you when life got rough despite your pride
but this is man's world, and I should just be content living in it.
Friday, April 22, 2011
You're Not Listening
You're not listening
Didn't you hear the hesitation in my voice when I told you I was leaving?
Mock confidence and assurance on my face was so deceiving
yet you chose to use the only one of your senses,
that could be stopped by my defenses.
You're not listening.
Slow down and stop are not the same things
just like solitaire and princess cut are not the same rings
or these feet are not the same things as wings
or this happiness just aint happy if it doesn't sing
You're not listening.
Lend me your ears so that you may hear what my heart says,
your eyes so that you may see past my bullshit,
your hands so that i can touch your hand when i'm afraid of you,
your nose to direct you to me if i lose my way
and your lips so that i may taste your confidence in us when im unsure.
you're not listening..but i need you to hear what isn't being said
and what you can't see... what you can't touch, to know what it is i need...
listen.
Didn't you hear the hesitation in my voice when I told you I was leaving?
Mock confidence and assurance on my face was so deceiving
yet you chose to use the only one of your senses,
that could be stopped by my defenses.
You're not listening.
Slow down and stop are not the same things
just like solitaire and princess cut are not the same rings
or these feet are not the same things as wings
or this happiness just aint happy if it doesn't sing
You're not listening.
Lend me your ears so that you may hear what my heart says,
your eyes so that you may see past my bullshit,
your hands so that i can touch your hand when i'm afraid of you,
your nose to direct you to me if i lose my way
and your lips so that i may taste your confidence in us when im unsure.
you're not listening..but i need you to hear what isn't being said
and what you can't see... what you can't touch, to know what it is i need...
listen.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
SICK
Sick
Literally sick to my stomach with the things I cannot say
Those thoughts have stolen my mind, and temporarily bonded my hands
so I sit around, looking lost and confused.
knowing that my verbal words will be misconstrued,
used against me and cause me to become subdued
I choose to remain silent.
Literally sick to the point that my cup runneth over
and I am threatening to spew as if I have a virus.
Mind locked up like bowels because I can't use my vowels.
in any second I am going to burst and i need towels
pad me down with tablets so that I may put this verbal vomit to use
and defecate on those who refuse to understand
that real art is what some may call " a whole lot of shit".
and its not my fault that you don't understand.
that I am literally sick,
sick from holding my tongue and being nice
when people are throwing salt and complimenting it with rice
How twisted is it
that we worry about others business b
sweeping around others doors
but refuse to wash down our on front porches?
I am literally sick
These words stuck in my throat,
these thoughts tied around my hands
and these feelings turning my stomach.
Literally sick to my stomach with the things I cannot say
Those thoughts have stolen my mind, and temporarily bonded my hands
so I sit around, looking lost and confused.
knowing that my verbal words will be misconstrued,
used against me and cause me to become subdued
I choose to remain silent.
Literally sick to the point that my cup runneth over
and I am threatening to spew as if I have a virus.
Mind locked up like bowels because I can't use my vowels.
in any second I am going to burst and i need towels
pad me down with tablets so that I may put this verbal vomit to use
and defecate on those who refuse to understand
that real art is what some may call " a whole lot of shit".
and its not my fault that you don't understand.
that I am literally sick,
sick from holding my tongue and being nice
when people are throwing salt and complimenting it with rice
How twisted is it
that we worry about others business b
sweeping around others doors
but refuse to wash down our on front porches?
I am literally sick
These words stuck in my throat,
these thoughts tied around my hands
and these feelings turning my stomach.
Uncle Hilton. #1/ The dream
Reality:
My uncle was killed in a truck accident. He was driving his Eighteen-wheeler, crashed into another truck (i believe it was another truck) and died. It was a Sunday... Mother's Day to be exact. I was on my way to work with a friend when my father called. I was on the highway, when I saw his number and name pop up on the screen. It was probably around eleven thirty. I remember it was around that time because I remember thinking that my father should have been in church by then.
I heard it in his voice before he even said it. I didn't know who had died but I knew somebody had to have been. In my family, a simple, "hey what are you doing?" sounds heavy with sorrow and sadness regardless of anybody's attempt to sound cheerful. He told me, right there on Highway 41 that my uncle had been killed in an accident.
A few minutes later I called him back to ask the details. His truck had been on fire a long time. I can't remember how many hours it burned. That one detail managed to slip my mind and I'm thankful for it.
I cried for three days. Every second I got alone I cried. Not so much because he was no longer here on Earth because I already knew that my uncle had a seat in the kingdom. I cried out of selfishness, confusion and something else I can't really identify.
Why do bad things happen to good people?
THE DREAM:
I don't dream about him much. In the years he has been gone I've only dreamed of him twice. The other morning I woke up, chest tight like I had been holding my breath. I scared myself and snatched my phone charger out of the wall. The last thing I remembered was my uncle being in a hospital bed, telling me goodbye and I was crying. It was a belly aching, tantrum throwing, screaming, arms flailing cry... I was clawing at the floor and screaming but i don't remember anything he said to me before that. I just know that a heavy, nervous feeling has been on my head ever since...and now I feel like I'm waiting for the last shoe to drop or something.
My uncle was killed in a truck accident. He was driving his Eighteen-wheeler, crashed into another truck (i believe it was another truck) and died. It was a Sunday... Mother's Day to be exact. I was on my way to work with a friend when my father called. I was on the highway, when I saw his number and name pop up on the screen. It was probably around eleven thirty. I remember it was around that time because I remember thinking that my father should have been in church by then.
I heard it in his voice before he even said it. I didn't know who had died but I knew somebody had to have been. In my family, a simple, "hey what are you doing?" sounds heavy with sorrow and sadness regardless of anybody's attempt to sound cheerful. He told me, right there on Highway 41 that my uncle had been killed in an accident.
A few minutes later I called him back to ask the details. His truck had been on fire a long time. I can't remember how many hours it burned. That one detail managed to slip my mind and I'm thankful for it.
I cried for three days. Every second I got alone I cried. Not so much because he was no longer here on Earth because I already knew that my uncle had a seat in the kingdom. I cried out of selfishness, confusion and something else I can't really identify.
Why do bad things happen to good people?
THE DREAM:
I don't dream about him much. In the years he has been gone I've only dreamed of him twice. The other morning I woke up, chest tight like I had been holding my breath. I scared myself and snatched my phone charger out of the wall. The last thing I remembered was my uncle being in a hospital bed, telling me goodbye and I was crying. It was a belly aching, tantrum throwing, screaming, arms flailing cry... I was clawing at the floor and screaming but i don't remember anything he said to me before that. I just know that a heavy, nervous feeling has been on my head ever since...and now I feel like I'm waiting for the last shoe to drop or something.
The lamp
Before I moved into this apartment, I went to Ikea and purchased a curvy, white, paper lamp that required two bulbs. I only bought it because it was cute. At the time I didn't care if it was bright enough. I didn't care if it would fit the decor, or even if anybody else would like it. I just knew that it was funky and I wanted it.
I walked past that same lamp today and remembered upon moving in, those things I didn't care about became an immediate concern. What if it wasn't bright enough? What if I needed more light? What if it didn't fit in with the decor of the apartment? What if people thought it looked tacky or that it wasn't nice?
It must have been the nervousness that caused me to second guess my first decision. Instead of getting another lamp, I insisted on letting that one lamp stand by itself, convincing myself that it was perfect and enough light. The thought occured to me today, that just like my fear that the light I adored before was suddenly not enough light was about more than about just a light.
That lamp is a lot like me... I think. Sometimes I'm so sure that my light is enough to shine and fix what is going on with others or enough to fix what is wrong within myself that I don't mind sitting in the dark for a while.I would rather stand dim than depend on someone else whose voltage may not last as long, (which was the reason I gave myself for not buying another lamp. I was concerned that it would be a waste of electricity because I would have to use them both and the other one would die faster which would mean the lamp would be left all alone in the end anyway).
I'm that lamp... People are the other form of light. I'm sure that though my light may be dim, I know its energy saving powers, and I'm "just enough" light to get by while those other forms of light are probably going to be more trouble than they are worth.
I don't know where this came from. It just randomly popped into my head. Maybe this makes sense and maybe it doesn't. However, my mind is full and this just took off the first sip to keep it from overflowing.
I walked past that same lamp today and remembered upon moving in, those things I didn't care about became an immediate concern. What if it wasn't bright enough? What if I needed more light? What if it didn't fit in with the decor of the apartment? What if people thought it looked tacky or that it wasn't nice?
It must have been the nervousness that caused me to second guess my first decision. Instead of getting another lamp, I insisted on letting that one lamp stand by itself, convincing myself that it was perfect and enough light. The thought occured to me today, that just like my fear that the light I adored before was suddenly not enough light was about more than about just a light.
That lamp is a lot like me... I think. Sometimes I'm so sure that my light is enough to shine and fix what is going on with others or enough to fix what is wrong within myself that I don't mind sitting in the dark for a while.I would rather stand dim than depend on someone else whose voltage may not last as long, (which was the reason I gave myself for not buying another lamp. I was concerned that it would be a waste of electricity because I would have to use them both and the other one would die faster which would mean the lamp would be left all alone in the end anyway).
I'm that lamp... People are the other form of light. I'm sure that though my light may be dim, I know its energy saving powers, and I'm "just enough" light to get by while those other forms of light are probably going to be more trouble than they are worth.
I don't know where this came from. It just randomly popped into my head. Maybe this makes sense and maybe it doesn't. However, my mind is full and this just took off the first sip to keep it from overflowing.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Please don't think I'm bitter
Please don't think I'm bitter....
for trying not to believe that all men are the same
while fighting off the angry black woman sterotype
Refusing to believe the Valentine's Day hype
when the truth is the 14th is the only day that some couples...
are a couple....
Please don't think I'm bitter...
When I just saw him with her and now who is she
While homie was just at my job pretending to be hubby
then whispering in my ear how I'm "special" and he could see himself loving me.
PLEASE....don't.. think.. I'm bitter...
If Disney has fed me one too many fairytales
about the king finding his queen
and I don't want to wake up one day and that damn glass shoe doesn't fit
or I'm asleep and I never get awakened by a prince...
Please don't think I'm bitter...
Because I'd rather sell reality than a fairytale,
and if it has to be a dream, I'd rather it be a goal
and if it has to be a wish, then I'd prefer to make it a prayer
so that I don't feel that my ambitions and aspirations have been sold.
for cheap.
So please don't think i'm bitter
for trying not to believe that all men are the same
while fighting off the angry black woman sterotype
Refusing to believe the Valentine's Day hype
when the truth is the 14th is the only day that some couples...
are a couple....
Please don't think I'm bitter...
When I just saw him with her and now who is she
While homie was just at my job pretending to be hubby
then whispering in my ear how I'm "special" and he could see himself loving me.
PLEASE....don't.. think.. I'm bitter...
If Disney has fed me one too many fairytales
about the king finding his queen
and I don't want to wake up one day and that damn glass shoe doesn't fit
or I'm asleep and I never get awakened by a prince...
Please don't think I'm bitter...
Because I'd rather sell reality than a fairytale,
and if it has to be a dream, I'd rather it be a goal
and if it has to be a wish, then I'd prefer to make it a prayer
so that I don't feel that my ambitions and aspirations have been sold.
for cheap.
So please don't think i'm bitter
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