Loss of Faith

Every Sunday morning since my father got married I've sat on a red pew in church. My step mother in a minister and my father is her husband. They've been wed since September 2007, and since that time we've been a "family". It feels like their exchanging vows has forced me into the marriage. I don't want to be married.
Sunday service starts at 11 a.m. and before we got married, my father and I never went to church so it does bother me to sit thru service for 3 hours when I'm not totally sold on what I'm being told from behind the pulpit. This past Sunday I had a revelation- not really but that's what I'm going to call it. I figured that I no longer wanted to be associated with the idea of "organized religion", or what I associated with that term. I was raised as a "Christian" (though we never went to church), but sitting in the sanctuary this day I promised myself that I would never fully believe what another human being says about religion. This day, the pastor claimed that Christianity was the way to go and Islam, Buddhism, etc. was not correct and faithful believers of those religions would go to hell. This comment stopped me right in my tracks.
I support believing in (individual) sanctimonious beliefs, but when you claim that everyone else is wrong and you are right- that's where I draw the line. When it comes to the idea of religion, how are individuals able to say that they are solely correct in their beliefs and other are wrong?!!! No one knows what happens after death, us people on earth can only go on what we assume- and that will never be 100% accurate. There are things that we will never know- I believe that life after death is one of those things. People will never know what is in store for them after death until they're buried six feet under, until then speculations are just that- assumptions! I do not wish to be apart of other's people assumptions, if anything, I'd rather make my own and stick to that. Therefore, I declare that I am no longer a Christian. I do believe in a God and higher power, but not necessarily in the form a "structured" religion.

Take a Sip of This

Memorial Day weekend is a time dedicated to the lives of those who have taken part in American warfare, but this commemoration tends to get lost in translation as this holiday weekend is also know as "Black Bikers Week" in the Myrtle Beach, SC area; riders from every state along the east coast were well represented.
The streets were lit with a cascade of colors and beautiful brown skin tones. Bikers were in full force- doing stunts up and down Ocean Avenue, police troopers were patrolling and even a few cops on foot, and hundreds of tourists crowded onto the strip, but the group that took the cake for each and every single day this past weekend were the skeets- oh excuse me- the near naked women waltzing up and down the city sidewalks. I was surprised nobody was arrested for indecent exposure, because those chicks had absolutely no clothes on- a lace thong and crocheted bra should not be your ensemble for an evening on the town! What can I say though- it's their decision, let them do what they wish!
The over exposed skin, motorcycles, ruthless men with video cameras, and liquor gave way to great entertainment. Men of all ages with camera phones were trekking behind young girls barely older than myself. There was so much touching and grabbing, licking, sucking, and smooching- I was shocked no one was having sex in the street, well almost no one.
I heard screams, laughs, and pants. But of all the noises and expressions given, I heard the phrase, "Take a sip of this" or "Drink this", the most. Men urged the girls to take shots with them. Take a shot- let's kiss- we're going to my hotel. And you know most of the girls were all about it! Let's say yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nothing Is As It Seems

The days are winding down and summer vacation is shortly approaching- the weather feels pretty nice... not too hot or too cool. Flowers are blooming on trees, children run after each other underneath monkey bars on mulch covered playgrounds, couples set up picnics in parks, and amidst all the beauty that this time of the year brings, I am stuck in the mindset of partial insanity.
I'm starting to realize that I see myself in a different way than other view me and vice versa. My personal problems and victories are emphasized, while the triumphs and failures of others are minimized in my mind. I can only see as far as God will let me and within my peripheral I see that what I've faced in life isn't what others conjure it up to be- only I can determine the depth of my circumstances. I've seen the lives of others and within my observation I've gathered the understanding that what seems to be so beautiful and delicate on the surface could really be crumbling from decay on the inside. Whether it be simple perception or complicated relationships, what you see happening in the lives/ to the lives of other individuals is not at all what you had imagined it to be.

Damaged

I know I'm kind of strange to you sometimes. I don't even know who I am most of the time. I'm so much to manage, but I hope you understand it's nothing personal. I don't always say what's on my mind and sometimes I'm completely petrified by life. Living is a big cycle, consisting of three major themes: success, misfortune, and simplicity. I've noticed that these three themes have deemed themselves consistent in my life. I'm hit with each of these basic foundations, but not always in the same order.
Facing reality means that I must deal with the ups and downs that outline my everyday. It's only been recently that I've come to this conclusion. I'm beginning to fully understand how to develop my life into what I want it to be. I'm steadily learning to make my ideas and feelings concrete. It will definitely take some time though. I know not to let what has happened in the past hinder my present and future, but I can't help but feel difficult to handle... part of me feels damaged and unable to be repaired.

Pink Cookies in a Plastic Bag Getting Crushed by Buildings

He had the nerve to tell me how I live my life- I don't see him anymore and we no longer talk to eachother regularly. In my mental he no longer exists, yet he believes he knows the happenings of my life. Upon hearing this, I wanted to take down a quick shot of purple haze and laugh relentlessly in this fool's face.

I twisted into a calypso of characters- Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (good versus evil). On one hand I wanted to snatch the nose off his face and on the other I wanted to shout in triumph at the fact that I could actually get him to argue with me- I relished at the thought that I could still control part of his temper.

We argued over the idea that I began dating someone new shortly after old boy and I broke up- it was not my fault we split. He's crazy. I'm not seeing anyone currently. But yet he presses the fact that he knows all about my "rendezvous." I don't even like that word. I hate the fact that someone would even dare to consider themselves knowledgeable to the ongoings of my personal life when I haven't spoken to them in regards to any of that matter.

For a while I became high off the action of us arguing thru text. I felt a new love towards him, like fresh blood restored to the veins of a sickened individual. While we argued I began to love. With each curse of his name, I reminisced on an event that I once considered priceless- while we argued my passion for him peaked. I yearned to be his girl again. And after 30 minutes of spiteful, sexually repressed texts- we stopped. And my idea of him turned into disgust. At the way he had treated me... at the things he had said. I return to life as normal, I drop him from my thoughts. And he is no longer a love in my life, but merely a cut across the heart. I sew. And so this wound will be stitched.

Wildflower

Today I'm tired. The week has been long and my mind is already unravelling for the start of the weekend. I'm looking forward to starting my new job again- a few months ago I had worked at sears (then I left) and now I'm going back!!! I need the money to pay for common necessities and to build a financial foundation for myself. Tonight is my church's "chicken & waffles" get together (that is so country)!! The church is also having a fashion show so I'll definitely be present to see what's going on in the Christian fashion world.
I'm currently reading two books, Lucy by Jamaica Kincaid and Rock My Soul by bell hooks. I am definitely awestruck by underlying stories in each of these novels and often find myself lost in the realm of reality with each story told. It's becoming normal for me to see myself thru the "spirits" of the book's characters.
I read often and by the time I finish each selection I feel as though I've lost part of my heart amongst the pages that my vision has graced. I'm left to fill a void and at the same time I am filled with inspiration to continue to seek beauty in objects that aren't beautiful- to develop myself as a complex, ever changing young woman...a wildflower pressed between the pages of delicate books and stories.

Boombox/ Beatz & Base

I smelled my mother today. A scent uniquely hers- compassionate, light, and affirmative. I smelt familiarity in the halls of this school building. I don't currently live with my mother, so being able to reconnect with something as simple as her fragrance brought alive senses that I hadn't felt in a long time.
I was whisked back to city memories. When I smell her, I remember that city feel. Days where she, my sister, and I would take the bus downtown to spend a whole afternoon at toy stores in the mall; when we shuffled 5 blocks to the corner laundry mat where she washed faded blue jeans and we roller skated on the sidewalk; relentless winter evenings where we'd stay at home and declare our time together "girl's night." I remember scorching summer days when she'd drag us to the playground and we'd zoom down blazing hot metal slides and grasp our tiny hands around fire pitched monkey bars, but no swings- the seats were too hot for our butts to handle. I remember times when she would blast Anita Baker from her living room stereo- loud enough for the whole floor to hear. I remember love between the three of us.
From my time spent with her I gathered visuals from all the experiences we encountered as the "three amigos. " And although I forget some of the specifics from that big part of my childhood, I always hold onto the scent from those days. How our building's hallways smelled slightly of piss, stale manhood, and a stagnant future. How in the mist of these dingy surroundings, my mother carry with her the smell a queen wouldn't be worthy of- I don't know what it was, a perfume or oil, but she had a fragrance that made me feel at complete ease with her. She took with her, wherever she went, an aura that spoke to crowds "this is a big city, but me and my girls are the bigger!" She possessed complete confidence in her presence and this is what I feel most from her smell- strength...a flourishing heart in the big city.

Smoke

The reason he is gone is supposed to make sense. But it does not. Complaints that I haven't done all that I could to make this relationship work. His actions show that he loves me no more- but his mouth says that he still wants us to be. Other women, girls...a girl in particular that is not me. She embraces him with her beauty- the beauty he sees in her he could not find within me. They have a secret bond, the foundation to all his great days. When everyone in his school torments him, and the the drama chicks at his job call him "feminine," and the car he constantly puts money into continues to break down, and it feels as though no one cares about him, when he drinks himself into an unconscious sleep she is the one whose face he sees as freedom from enslaved pain.
And I no longer am a number in the equation. I've given all I could to love him. I gave him my hopes and dreams, experiences that were locked in the crevices of my heart. And now I am hopeless, left alone to summon up new aspirations. I feel heat on my face- of guilt from loving someone that no longer loves me back. It makes me bitter, my bones sour as the kiss of amaretto. I curse his name and I swear that I no longer love him. He has just walked out of my life- with no explanation or glance back. I know that I cannot hold onto someone who wishes to be let go and I don't know much Spanish, but I can conjure up an "Adiós."

Art on my Mind

I am in love with two women. Females that have touched my innermost places- crevices that have been acknowledged by no one. Their presence erases the thought of lesbianism from my mind- there isn't such a word, only a label. Who pays those any attention?
I've absorbed the works of bell hooks/ Ntozake Shange and have fallen head over heels for what they write. I dwell on the words documented in their stories, poems. These are words that have embraced their lives, their spirits and intellect. Hooks-Shange are beautiful, powerful Black women. I admire their strength for writing. Communication between pen-paper-mind.
These two women fulfill my need of understanding. I am appreciative of what they've taught me, of how to develop into a powerhouse of spirit and fidelity. To give love towards myself- first and foremost. They teach me to put myself at the top of my priority because no one will dress the Black woman's wounds better than herself.

Aint No Love in the Heart of the City

I've decided to be truthful and righteous in my endeavors. Amongst being completely honest I've come across the fact that everyone can't handle the truth. I am what I am- Popeye couldn't have said it any better. I am the person I am thru my decision to be. My mentality, spirituality, and emotions are my own. I can accept this reality, if you cannot- so be it.

But when you look me in the eyes and expect me to "sugar coat" the actuality of how I feel or what I think about you I don't live up to your standards. You want me to express appreciation towards an act that has devalued my morals. You ask for my assistance in a crime that makes me the victim. You beg for the recognition of cheap things knowing I am of greater stature.
I am honest. I will not lie about my perspective. You ask- I speak truth from my heart. And yet, you find a way to twist my "realness" into vines of bullets stemming directly into your fears.
Weakness. You fight for weakness, for the fact that you cannot process the reality behind my words. You cannot stand tall after I've spoken my mind. I guess you can't handle all that I have to say. I realize this and try my best to equal out our differences.
I had love for what we were- for what we could have been. In the mist of hell I daydreamed about the life you and I would live. Love and abuse cannot coexist. I abused your need for space and you abused my idea of trust. What began as difference quickly turned into anger/ bitterness/ and all the likes.
I'm trying to be a woman of my word. So that what I say can be trusted and completely understood. I guess all I really wanted was for us to relate to each other- not to fuss. Not to stress. It is no one's fault for what has been. And I have no regrets, but I write this for the simple fact that I feel the need to seal loose relationships in my life with love, appreciation, and understanding.

Maxi-Priest

I'm a target, the one that people curse with taunting, with teasing and ridicule. When life seems to be going stable (for once) I am thrown a curve ball and find it difficult to recover from it's pitch. I hate baseball. I love the Yankees.
I have a mind of my own. I bother no one, but seem to fall behind on the "likeable" scale- maybe I'm too much...maybe I'm not enough. I try to figure my best approach to life- to learning to deal with the ups and downs of livelihood, of people and their dramatics. I've fallen so many times and have been embraced by no one. It's hard on concrete- where my body lies cold against cement. Cold is what has taken over the atmosphere of my heart. Icy as the frozen glaciers of the Himalayas. I yearn to be free- to speak and not be taken for granted. The words that are sewn within my being need to be watered like the roots of a rare rose.
No one truly relates to what I say or express. I deal with ignorant people. I try to be nice, wonderful (muah! even blow them a kiss) and they stab me in the back. It's been done before and so it continues.

My name's NOT Tina

Confession part 1: I'm not as innocent as I seem. I think bad things- of treachery. Malicious thoughts. My most previous "former lover" thinks I'm stupid. I'm Capri. And the worst part about it is that he doesn't even pretend to respect who I am- not Tina, Capri. He has made me the butt of his jokes. Ridicule I did not deserve. I put my spite on hold to manage our relationship, which slowly turned sour over the course of four bittersweet weeks.
The foundation of our problems is his fault. I'm not unfair. He implanted distrust in me and- Lord behold- that seed grew. Nothing is wrong with a flower, maybe even a bush, but this... this crap grew into a tree. I never like agriculture.
In the course of one short month, I've discovered a phrase that regulates my new found way of handling "partnerships", love and abuse cannot coexist. Bell hooks.
I've been abused. My relationship has worn down my mind. It's hard for me to think clearly because I love him so. I'm blinded by my faithfulness to him. But the past month has twisted my delicate thoughts into complete carelessness. I still try my hardest to hold on to what we have, but I realize that what we are experiencing is unhealthy. I'm forcing myself to let go, it is a difficult thing to do. I've done it before so I am reassured that I can manage this. I must let go because my name's NOT Tina, he doesn't seem to realize this.

*Luv mE nO MorE*

This morning I am twisted. I couldn't sleep last night because I was betrayed. The past few weeks have been frustrating to my psyche and I find myself falling into a deep depression laced with anxiety. Everyday I find myself battling with the demons of mistrust and anger. They embrue my daily decisions and guide my unrighteous ways.
Last night i squirmed and panicked in my sheets because a guy called another woman (girl or what-have-you) a word that made me want to punch his face off. When I found this out, i began to tremble for the simple fact that this exact situation reminded me of one I dealt with in the spring of last year. Although the dialogue was somewhat different, the circumstance last year had the same story line: a young man and the other woman. When I caught whiff of this yesterday my insides went into complete hysterics!
For about 7 minutes I sat in a rut and came to the conclusion that I don't even care. Yes, I care about the guy and yes, up until then we had something nice going on BUT what has already been a doubtful issue for me to deal with (trusting young men) has turned into me no longer wanting us to be together. It does seem harsh but I no longer have full trust in what this person says and the love I have for him continues but somewhere along the way it got smeared.

Janet.Jackson.Rock with U

I rode the bus this morning. I don't drive. I tried to stop myself from crying the whole ride to petersburg, but my pain put itself in charge. I even squeezed my eyelids shut, but the tears found their way down the sides of my cheeks. At home I am dealing with dramatics. At school I am feeling dramatic. And in the public I look dramatic. The past two weeks have been pure hell, a phrase I don't use lightly. When I look at myself in the mirror now, I see straight thru the kindhearted person I struggle to maintain and pierce to the center of a bitter young woman that has been twisted by the "circumstances" of life.

I listen to this song, Rock With U, to fight off the pressure that has built up in me. Little by little, I replay frames of the video to try and take me up and away, to a place unknown, where there is me, my body, spirit, and a dance. I've chosen to become completely ignorant to the existence of other people, people I don't know or don't care to know. I figure, "They don't help me accomplish anything in this world so who needs em?!'' I've started to form into my own thing. I call it a thing because it doesn't come off to me as human, animalistic, spiritual, or intellectual. This thing feels and absorbs but doesn't speak- I'll leave it at that.

While I engage in this song, my thing feels edged. It becomes sassy and hardcore- like nothing in this world can hinder it. This thing is not me- it's not even my personality, but I found it one night, when I was completely stressed and ready to give up life, (abandoned) in the corner of my heart. Since then I took it upon myself to nurture this thing, to raise it as my own. And now, as a (good) mother would care for her child, I care for my thing. And thru songs like this I am able to watch it develop- to dance its dance and play on the kiddie see saw, to race down a rusted slide and soar beyond the clouds on a rubber-seated swing. I watch my thing flourish as though it were a part of me.

SawDust

My heart swells in the springtime and in the summer it melts. It's only mid-March and the temperatures are already scratching lower 70s. Yesterday afternoon I sat outside, running my mouth on the phone as usual and although I'm on punishment, I felt so naturally free. I got in trouble a few days ago- got my cell taken, but yesterday I sashayed back and forth on that porch as though I had no worries in the world.
It's something about the weather during these "end of the school year" months- March, April, and May. These are months where each day is light hearted; you wake up with nothing heavy on your mind, there are no problems in sight and everything flows smoothly. All of this because of the weather. It somehow finds its way into your spirit. It finds its way into mine. And when this time of the year rolls around, I am taken to the depths of my most inner ideas, feelings, and truth. I can't help but find what has made me who I am. I discover all of this, year after year, during these springtime months.
I walk around without heavy burdens, I ignore them all. I have no particular focus; not school, home, family, or friends. But with the discovery of truth and who I've developed into comes the realization of how I am. These times are also a period where I begin to doubt and struggle with myself. Some days I feel so lite that I'm distracted with whatever I should be in tune with. I let myself get used by people who are no good for me in the long run, only because it seems the right thing to do at the moment. And because the weather is so fresh and inviting, year after year, I am constantly taken up to a place where my hopes are left waiting for truth.

Dedication

I decided that in order to make my life on this earth useful, purposeful I must involve myself-mentally, spiritually, emotionally- in a great cause. I’m not looking to become the next mother Teresa, Iman, Condoleezza Rice, Donald Trump, or even county police officer. The truth is I don’t know what I want to become, but I figure that whatever I end up “being” or doing in life, I can only successfully get to if I decide to have dedicate my times and efforts into a specific circumstance.

Like Baptist ministers who are said to devote their lives to the words and techings of Jesus Christ; they have spiritually given themselves to the lord above and therefor have "something" to live for- God himself. Artists live for the gratification that their and others' pieces bring. They live off the inspiration found in art. Life coaches live for the wisdom they gain in common, everyday situations and circumstances. Athletes live for the fun of the game, the adrenaline rush they recieve when playing their favorite sport(s). Dog catchers live for the simple fact that they don't want to see another stray animal attack a helpless girl in the streets. Volunteers live for the joy of giving back to the community. Motivational speakers live to impact the lives of others thru speech. And I, I am not a "minister," "artist," "life coach," "athlete," "dog catcher," "volunteer" or "motivational speaker". I am only me and until I can find who I truly am, I will continue to live for nothing.

T.I.P. Stank MODE

Over the past few months life has thrown many unwelcomed situations and circumstances in my face- and right in the mist of it all, he put some dumb young man! In addition to not having a license, current job, change in my pocket, or the simple uplifts that make the teenage years so wonderful, I've been dealing with this boy (we'll call him X). And there's nothing wrong with carrying on relationships with people of the opposite sex, especially during these teen years, but when somebody starts to aggravate your morality and common sense- it's time to give them the "handz" because you're not trying to hear it! Nobody has time to deal with unnecessary jibber jab from from counter parts.
And for better understanding I will use myself as an example; so here's me and X. We were originally introduced by a mutual friend. He calls me everyday and we talk on the phone- oh no we don't- I do. I talk 99 percent of the time while he sits back and "listens." It wasn't always this way though. At the beginning of our "courting," we laughed and talked it up! And now he doesn't say much- if anything at all. The funny thing though, is when I say "let me call you back" or "I'm getting off the phone cuz you're not saying nothin," he pleads with me not to?- I put a question mark behind that last phrase because my common sense in those particular moments question his actions.
I came to the conclusion that this fool has no mouth because he seems to never have anything to say, or at least not the right thing to say. We've been seeing each other often and things are somewhat smooth between us in person. I'm not his girlfriend so I don't expect to go out to the movies cuddled up beside him or take long walks in the park by his side. We just chill, watch tv, blah blah. He's been pressuring me to be his girlfriend, boo, wifey, shawty, etc. But I'm not having it. Because outside of hardly saying a word on he phone, he blatantly downplays my intelligence. Who needs to put up with someone that outright disrespects them by talking about other females or criticizing their body. Plain and simple- there's no use in wasting time by putting up with people who don't do you any good, that's a parasitic relationship right there!

Let me Get 'Em!

I'm starting to realize that an important ideal to have in life is coming to terms with the fact that if you can't change a situation, it's best to let that thing slide. There's no need in becoming fixated on a circumstance that you have no control over. I see so many people shaken up and beaten down from dealing with some of life's "meant to happen"torments when in actuality they didn't need to get all worked up over it in the first place, save yourself some sanity.
Life seems to flow much easier when we expect that there will be some good days and just as many (or hopefully less) bad ones. We should learn to roll with the punches in stride and acknowledge the fact that you can (at least) gain wisdom and insight from the stresses that you are/ will be put thru in your years of living. The smoothest way to go about dealing with life and all it's glory is to accept change in a positive light and understand yourself well enough to know that above all, if you cannot change a situation, you can always change your attitude and outlook pertaining to a circumstance :)

Up Against the Wind (Lori Perry?)

Yesterday I finished the book for Colored girls who Have Considered Suicide/ When the Rainbow is Enuf. It took me a whole day to read and was worth every second spent. The selection is labeled as a "choreopoem", a variation of 20 poems bound together to make one complete story. Every poem is narrated by a different color that makes up the rainbow, each deemed as a lady (e.g. lady in blue, purple, yellow, orange, red, green), there is also a lady in brown. These seven personalities make up the voices that speak of the struggles faced by women of color; from rape to three way love triangles and building self motivation.

All the emotions and ideas that have treaded themselves thru me were recognized in this book. I cried for the many times I wished death upon my own self after dealing with the harsh reality that I no longer believed in who I was. I laughed at all the times I heard "I'm sorry"; excuses men give to women for being the way they are or doing the dirt they do. I pained at the idea that I took comfort in wanting love from others when I could barely love myself. And I cursed at the drunken man who dropped his kids from the 5th story floor, because their mother chose not to marry him.

The song Up Against the Wind is beautiful, strong, worthy, and damaged. Just the same as the book and its contents, the song speaks from a woman's perspective and tells the tale of the challenge(s) she faces within society and herself. The hell that we as young colored women have endured dealing with ourselves, society, and coming of age/ wisdom has forced a strain on us as a people. The book honors our internal struggles, strains that were present when no one else could witness what happened behind closed doors. A testimony. The book and the song are each testimonies from the hearts of colored women. The song speaks for the woman in the book and the woman in the book speaks for me and many others. Our testimonies bind together to create a quilt of perseverance, self destruction, laughter, grief, sisterly love, and sorrow. This quilt of emotions is all we have to shelter our sanity as we are forced to go up against the wind.

Los Bandoleros

High school will prove to be a damning experience at some point in a young person's four year sentence behind these cinder block walls. You have to deal with issues at home let alone unnecessary yap yap from drama heads at the school. And a person like me (quiet, laid back, and not in anyone's business) thinks the crap at school is avoidable until you come upon a group of people, or even one person for that matter, that cannot help but keep your name and the names of countless others on the tips of their tongues.
It frustrates me to know that I can go about my daily business, not be in anyone's face, and still get talked about behind my back. What makes it worst is that the same people running their mouths about what I do or how I do it are the same people who smile in my face when random jokes are being made.
You must understand that I have not heard them talk bad about me with my own ears (if so I would not be here typing this post), but I had heard so from others that I do consider to be trust-worthy resources. I had also heard the drama heads talk about peers close to me and those not so close to me, they even talk about each other-what?!! Who's ever heard of a mature person talking down about those who are in their own social circle?- It's childish, foolish, and unnecessary. I guess I can understand if what a person says or does directly influences you, but there is no point of even talking garbage about others when at the end of the day their business has absolutely NOTHING to do with your status in the world! All these fools do is stir up commotion that isn't relevant to anything, all it does is offend others, and causes extreme tension and confusion that ultimately gets us nowhere. For your own sake, drama heads, GET A LIFE!!!

They Used to Feel Invisible

Today is thursday, February 14th... Valentine's Day and I'm surrounded by red roses, golden wrapped Hershey's Kisses, locked lips, and dead faces. For all the cute couples celebrating this day there are ten times more single people out there stuck in a rut over the fact that they cannot completely join in today's momentous occasion.

It's obvious that this is a day for couples, but that shouldn't have an effect on those who don't have a significant other. Yes, it's tough for singles to hold their heads high when what they cannot have is constantly being flaunted in front of them and when they try to run home and take heed from all the lovey dovey kiss kissin', theres nothing but sappy soap operas and love tales on tv (oy vey)!

What's even more detrimental to a person's future health on Valentine's day is when kids parade through their elementary school halls with bags and boxes filled with assorted candies and cards to pass out to their class and the little boy that sits in the corner of the class doesn't even get glanced at when the goodies are given out at sharing time. Now he becomes sad. There are no colorful characters on paper cards jumping from his desk and he doesn't even have the opportunity to get a cavity from eating all the sugar filled candy that the rest of the boys and girls have. Getting cards or candy from an admirer at this age means that someone actually notices you. He gets neither and therefore begins to feel invisible to the rest of his classmates.
For years, single people have been isolated on this day. Where's the "single people's valentines day"?! It's not fair to have a specific day for the love between a couple when the single are left out- being singled out once again! But then again, nobody needs a specific day to appreciate loving another or feel left out because you have no one to love. We should take the time out each day to show gratitude and romance to others.

On the bright side, when it's all said and done, Valentines Day is just another date on the calendar- it's not that serious.

Something You Forgot

And then there are those who are struggling to make ends meet- living in local tenement buildings that have gone months without a decent repair? It seems that the simple life of the poor is becoming more of a complication to the stabilty of the US economy- a complication that most are willing to sweep under the rug. The president, backed by congres, presses for the sanctification of civilization overseas- we plague war and havoc amongst middle eastern citizens in hopes of (somehow) providing them with a "decent" government, while in the heart of our own cities there are women with kids that could actually benefit from misused war money.

With millions of Americans living well below the average poverty rate, its amazing how our own government doesn't heavily take into consideration the quality of life for those in tight finacial situations. Its blasphemy that we could raise taxes and not see any of our money have a direct effect on our community, the urban (lower-working class) population.

There is a toll booth located on the highway before you get to the Chippenham exit coming from downtown Richmond, it was there for as long as I can remember. And now, right behind this toll, they are building a second toll- literally less than one mile away from the booths that are there now. They will not be closing down the old booths, because they are completely lined along the full length of that part of the interstate. What is the need for building this section of a booth? It's not taking the place of a previous one and it is not providing a quicker way to exit from the highway, so once again I ask- what is the need for building this section of the booth? In my opinion, the tax payers' money has gone to waste! With the money to build a new stainless steel toll, we could've funded a homeless shelter downtown.

There are instances the same as these that are going making impact nationwide. The lower working class pay taxes just the same as everyone else, their paychecks get cut just the same as anyone elses, yet they reap no obvious benefits from their sacrifices to government. There is some shady business going on behind the scenes for there to perfectly cemented streets in the suburbs and hundreds of uncovered manholes and unpaved potholes in the city.

The lower class strive to survive off meager wages while nothing is being done in government to positively influence their living standards. Government takes care of those with money and disregards those who don't have much to give. With all thats going on in this world, we (the urban lower working class population) are left on the front step of a congressman proclaiming, "When you divided up the economy's financial budget, we were something you forgot".

Jesus Lara (part I)

There is a type of man that every female finds herself dealing with at some point in her life- she'll probably deal with many of them. I call it Jesus Lara, a guy that plasters the scowl on women's faces and marks them tainted for life. He spits words from a hard-edged soul and has an attitude spiked with more venom than that of any poison. He has been calloused by society and now emits an aura that establishes him as head honcho, no one dare to be more dominant. Lara involves himself with many women, lies to those women, leaves them, and moves on to the next. He's flyy, always has a fresh cut, up to date sneakers, and designer clothes. Lara is popular in at least one place, whether it be school, the neighborhood, the mall, the community center, or church. He may even play a sport (oh watch out for him)!
Behind the surface of all things on point, he also drives hard in the fast lane; the dating game. A typical Jesus will try his best to get with as many girls (I call these particular girls 'stunt doubles') as possible as soon as possible. He has no regard to how the girl feels or what she thinks for the time being, he is all about his business and the rest is history! No need for long walks in the park with her, staying up all night on the phone, buying stuffed bears and candy for Valentine's Day, taking the time out to say I love you, or even caring at all about this girl; because for Lara, she is not a top priority. At the most she has been, is, or will be an option- nothing more, bring in the next stunt double!!!

The Love Experience

Our youth are brought up with a fluff idea as to what "true love" is. We've been brought up on Mickey and Minnie Mouse memoirs, Pocahontas power strides, Aladdin tales, and all around "happily ever after" stories- a genre that I categorize as The Love Experience. Not that this group is solely based on cartoon characters or Disney's representation of actual people; there seems to be a falseness behind what people (especially children) are fed today dealing with the topic of love. Certain music and movies help to cement the idea of "perfect love". These displays rooted in the mental of young people could prove to be a major let down later in life for the simple fact that a person's actual relationship history most likely will be nothing like what they've seen in the movies or heard in song. I wouldn't dare point the finger at movies and music on this case, because this subject in particular isn't one that necessarily influences the actions of youth in a negative way, but instead may provide a reality check for those in need.

Growing up we are shaded by demonstrations of what is labeled as "true love"-"the perfect relationship". With age, personal experience, and wisdom, most of us shed the dimness of our shades and come to terms with reality... the fact that true love may indeed be false or the perfect relationship might have more than a few dozen imperfections. REALITY CHECK!

And then there's school- high school in particular, and how it is also a part of "The Love Experience". I can only speak for myself and a few others on this recollection (so I will proceed to do so). In elementary and middle school there was an aura around the subject of high school- HS was among the elite, top notch places to be; where there was all types of people crowded shoulder to shoulder in the halls. There were lockers taller than the person who owned them, where you could plaster up pictures of N*Sync and Mariah Carey, there were legalized food fights in the cafeteria, smoking in the boys bathroom, and lipstick writings on the mirrors in girls' bathroom. The principal was strict and all the kids (no matter how nerdy) were cool because they were in high school-that's it. That's all they needed to say, "I'm in high school", and our elementary jaws would drop-the rest is history! All of this before we had even walked the halls of a secondary school.

Then I became a freshman and all of my past premonitions of what the wonder years would be like slowly began to fade with each day spent in that jail cell. There weren't any jocks- oh hold up, yes there are, but that doesn't matter because they come off just like the rest of us in here-there were no food fights, driving away for lunch, no early release for seniors, and more work. My grades dropped and so did all my hopes to be a part of the livest place on earth. All that I've seen on tv dealing with how wonderful HS is and how much juicy drama takes place, I know that I'm not missing much. I'm pretty sure most young adults feel don't feel the hype that they've been led to believe was plastered against the walls of each school. I've realized that no matter what high school you go to, there is a common thread between each of them. On the other side of town, the same things are going on at their local school.

The young public has been led to believe in two circumstances that wont necessary be anything like what they've been brought up to take heed in. The only way to surefire way to deal with the happenings is to develop wisdom- from The Love Experience.

The Hood Don't Love Me*

They talk about my sneakers,
the ones that have walked hundreds of miles of concrete.
Potholes as deep as the ghetto running through my veins.
The sneakers that have run from many men,
“God guard me from the ungodly”.
Sneakers laced with grime,
the only evidence of my hustle underneath the streetlights,
the sneakers that have cruised pavement,
while I was in search of midnight passion,
sneakers that have swayed with the rhythm in each car, back alley, and old mattress.

Motion sickness.

Sneakers that have taken part in the illness
of my body against theirs,
sneakers that have not left the soles of my feet,
not once with any man.
They despise the sneakers that have witnessed their greatest sexual sins.
I despise myself as a nightwalker.

* dedicated to vickie

SAILING

And it's rainy outside. The streets disappear under inches of slick acid rain- that tears through the earth stone cemented together by hard working hands of labor. I try to dismiss the dimness that todays weather is pressing against my mood by mentally removing myself from the enviornment. Instead I'll listen to music that somehow seeps its way into the crevices of a cold heart that I permanently froze overnight. And so the ice will slowly melt.
There're basketball games at shcool tonight. Report cards are dished out and jaws hit the floor. The grades that I got this second quarter were enough to make me disappointed at my UNsuccess in school- and 30 seconds later my mind is reversed back into the mindset of nonchalant-ness. I could care less about these grades on paper for what I've failed to accomplished last period... I'm more intune with what I can do to bring them up next time around. I can only think this way because it hurts to face the truth that I barely passed two of my classes.
And so I sit in school on a dreary day-careless to the letters that mark me as a "good student"- not sure of tonight's plans and steadily drowning in the melody of some Enrique Iglesias song (cheesy is definitely the word). But the song does take off the sting of reality so that I don't ever have to deal with the unnecessary if I don't wish to.

Dear Summer

I don't drive. I was on the bus this morning and felt the memories of last summer flip through my mind. It's late January. The weather feel real warm to be winter- global warming. And it's wet outside, but still a nice day to enjoy. The bus engine rattled and it reminded me of the times I would sneak out of my grandmother's house to go see my then boyfriend (current ex). I remembered all about Those Days, every single detail, down to color of nail polish i wore each day.
Like a digital photo album, my mind reminisced on past events and I tried my best to push out those thoughts, but intellect betrayed my heart and there I was - a year later, recollecting old memories with a brutal freshness. Those Days remain so permanent in my being because that was a time when I was put on my feet- my beloved. Through my being with him, I guess a part of me learned to love myself. And those days are so permanent- its smell will forever be a scent I recognize, its taste will always surface above my lips, what I've seen will continue to pervade my sight and even when eyelids draw darkness, there will still stand the figure of Those Days. Love and accpetance will remain within my spirit- and since Those Days I've solely become scent, taste, and sight underneath a layer of faded love. I think we need some time away.
And as the bus wheels rolled, my insides raced. I panicked at the thought of harboring beautiful memories of an experience that began as a fairy tale and ended in lost of identity. Memories of being loved 2 being stripped of all emotions ever known to man. And as the bus wheels turned, I slowly fell back into the past.