Bedtime Story (Originally posted 1-13-06 but still relevant today)

Once there was a cat and a scorpion sitting on a riverbank. The scorpion asked the cat to carry him across the river because he couldn't swim. The cat said, "No, I won't carry you across the river, you're a scorpion, you'll sting me and kill me". The scorpion assured the cat that he wouldn't sting her, so the cat agrees to carry the scorpion across the river. The scorpion climbs on the cat's back and they start across the river. Halfway across the river the scorpion stings the cat and the cat screams out in pain, "You fool, now we're both going to drown and die, why did you sting me?" The scorpion said, "I'm a scorpion, I can't help myself". 

I gave the scorpion a ride even though I knew he was going to sting me and kill me, so I effectively killed myself. I'm not sure how many more lives I have but I do know I'm tired of dying.

Today's Advice

Develop emotional diarrhea and let that shit GO! Just let it go! Emotional repression is poison to the body, mind and spirit. Don't believe me? Look around you. So many of us are walking wounded, nursing years old pain with insufficient mental compresses and bandages. Just let it go. Aren't you tired? Aren't you weary? Reach out! Why be afraid to need someone? Why be afraid to speak? Give voice to that pain and LET IT GO! It's 2009 soon to be 2010, cut the bullshit. It's time y'all....it's time.

Hurt, but not as hurt as Trent Reznor (Originally posted 1-8-06)

I was reading the blog of one of my Sistah Associates and a song was playing. I don't know the name of the song but it reminded me of Hurt by Nine Inch Nails. Hurt is my wallow song. When I'm mad at the world or just feeling sick and tired, I play Hurt and it reminds me that my life is a beautiful struggle and I wouldn't have it any other way. It also serves as a warning not to wallow too long....the blues ain't no joke for some folks. Poor poor tortured Trent Reznor. Here are the lyrics if you're so inclined to read them:



"Hurt"

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything

what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of shit
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feeling disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here

what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end

you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

Although I know that the Universe is conspiring with my energy to manifest things for my highest good, I still get stuck on bullshit sometimes. I am thinking of the disappointments I've experienced over the past few days. I opened myself up to a lot of it by going against my better judgment, but I also realize the world is populated by many low-life ass people. I'm angry, I'm kind of sad, I'm tired, I haven't been sleeping well, I've put on 6 pounds, for the first time in over a month I didn't get a parking space on my block, etc. A whole bunch of insignificant shit is combining to contribute to a fantastically bad mood.

I asked Oya for change and she is handing it to my ass alright. I asked Orunmila for increased intuition...but so far I've not heeded it. I asked Chango and Ogun to protect me from those who would cause me harm...my feelings were hurt this weekend but I'll live. I asked Obatala to make me pure like his white cloth...I've been thinking dirty thoughts all day. I asked my ancestors for guidance...I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I asked Yemaya to shower me with her motherly love and she sent me to a women's worshop (that need was fulfilled). I asked Ochun to send me love...the jury is still out on that request. I know that I have to give these things time to manifest but I've also just realized that I have to work to get them. I have to cultivate myself, listen to my Ori (my higher self), love myself and most importantly be patient. 

I have work to do. Fuck stagnation. Strong language makes me feel stronger.

How to kill a man (Originally posted 12-22-05)

Tell him that while you were having sex with him you were pretending he was someone else. Tell him you were pretending he was your 5 years dead soul mate. That's what I did tonight. I killed a man tonight. I am a cold, cruel, heartless, evil, insensitive cretin. A part of me hates what I did to "O" tonight but a part of me feels he deserved what he got. I loved his selfish ass and gave him the best of me and he thanked me by shitting all over me. One good shit deserves another right? Wrong. Two wrongs just equals wrong squared. Karma is going to kick my ass for this. "O" may be a selfish rat fink bastard but he was honest about being a selfish rat fink bastard. I destroyed a piece of him tonight with my little revelation. That man loved me in his own way but because he didn't give me what I wanted how I wanted it, I crucified him. He hates me now. He won't speak to me. He told me never to contact him again. I think he means it this time too. I fucked up, I mean really fucked up. I've said some really horrible things to him before and he always forgave me...after a while, but this time I went too far.  I'm sad now. He has a bad heart and high cholesterol. I would hate for him to....leave and we have bad blood between us. How do I make it right? I am so sorry.

I stopped writing....

Because words weren't enough.
They couldn't capture my aches, pains, joys, triumphs.
I thought my tears, screams and laughter were enough.
But they weren't.
I stopped writing.
Because I thought my words had fled.
I thought all the consonants, verbs, syllables and similes were lying dead inside of me.
Try as I might...I just could not write.
Each attempt to scribe my angels and demons felt like a chore...no pleasure to be found.
So I stopped writing.
And when I stopped writing, my voice locked up.
I suffocated my dreams, silenced everything in me that reached and strived.
When I stopped writing...I didn't even feel alive.
And I choked on everything that I imprisoned inside of me.
Thoughts bled into oblivion.
Ideas gestated but were stillborn.
All because...
I
Stopped
Writing

But today I will type it out.
I will resume exhuming these figurative bones with my pen until once again...
I start writing.
And this time...
I won't stop.
I won't ever stop writing again.

He pretends... (Originally posted 12-19-05)

He pretends he doesn't love me but I know he does. I see right through his charade. He thinks about me so much he can't stand it. He says to me, "you make me sick, I can't stop thinking about you, I don't want you in my head." But in his head I remain. I gave him something other women couldn't: unconditional love. Or perhaps that's my ego speaking? He's a selfish bastard. He's judgmental, egotistical, self-absorbed, spoiled...so much like me. That's why we get along so well. I make him laugh. I make him feel like a man. But I also remind him that he's not nearly man enough. For that he despises me. He loves me and hates me. I find that amusing.

When I was lonely and needed a hug he came to me. It was almost 3 in the morning. I told him that sex was out of the question. Head, even more out of the question. I just needed to be held. He sounded disappointed but was still willing to come and hold me. I asked him if he'd ever had intimacy without sex. He said he'd had intimacy that led to sex. I found that amusing too. He is the only man that I have ever slept with on the first date. I swear I had no intention of doing that, I swear that on everything....but it happened. Here's how it happened......

Our first "date" was almost  a year ago. The late afternoon saw us at ESPN Zone downtown (Chicago). It was a bitterly cold day and The Hawk was screaming around buildings, tearing at our jackets, faces and hands. As we walked he kept his arms around me. He also made sure he walked on the outside...always. Such the perfect gentleman. He smelled HEAVENLY. He looked like 20,000 tons of temptation packed into a 5 foot 11 inch, 179 pound chocolate demi god's frame. Just...yummy. We got our table, ordered our refreshments and proceeded to watch the Colts rip some other team apart. How I love Peyton Manning. He is scientific with it. But I digress. During the course of the game I had 2 double Amaretto Stone Sours. They were horribly watered down so I didn't get buzzed...or did I? Perhaps that contributed to my loose behavior?

The details are kinda fuzzy here...I'm pretty sure he suggested that we go back to his place and watch another game. Since I was in no hurry to leave his presence, I agreed. We went back to his place and got comfy on the couch and that's when the Itis started to set in and I grew drowsy. I recall lying across his lap and I may even have dosed off. He has a huge, comfy, ultrasuede sectional sofa. He stroked my neck. God, his hand felt so good. Me on him, him stroking me, us on that couch, slightly dim lights, very warm...it felt slightly...cocoon-ish. Somehow, despite my semi-coma I became conscious enough to know that I needed to leave. The temptation that I'd felt earlier was back and pounding on my nerve endings, screeching in my loins and tweaking my nipples...something was going to jump off if I didn't dash through that door and quickly. So I jumped to my feet, startling him and stammering out excuses about it being late and me being tired. I needed to leave.

He looked disappointed but didn't try to dissuade me. I shrugged into my jacket as he walked out of the living room. I thought it odd that he wasn't going to walk me to the door but oh well. As I was about to make my way to the door he returned to the room with his hands behind his back and a smile decorating his beautiful lips. Damn, why must he look so good, I thought to myself. He told me he had a surprise for me. I had to close my eyes and touch one of his hands. Whichever hand I touched contained my surprise so I needed to choose wisely. This was fun. I picked the left and he gave me Mos Def's latest cd. From our many talks, he knew I'd been wanting it and I thought it sweet that he remembered. In the hand I hadn't chosen was Talib Qweli's latest. Awwww shucks. I still picked a good one though. I was so pleased that I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. Why did I kiss him on the cheek? That scent, that hard body, that warmth....seduction at its finest. We looked into one another's eyes...I know it sounds cliche, but we did. I was enraptured...he was too. We couldn't look away and our lips  couldn't stay away. They met and from there it was over for me.........


He kept me up and going ALL NIGHT LONG...like that Mary Jane Girls song. Every time I tried to leave he'd pull me back for more. I didn't leave until late the next afternoon...even then he was hesitant to let me go. I didn't want to leave but I knew I should. And I did. From that day forward though, we were almost inseparable.







I've aroused myself by stirring up this pot of memories. I wonder if he'd come tonight if I called him? Probably not. He's vowed not to have sex with me ever again. He says I'm too distracting and it takes too long for him to recover. Truth is, he just can't handle me. Aside from all that...we're just friends. For now.