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What type of Mama…

I had a fight with Anna last night.

Yes, my bestfriend from highschool who gets on my damn nerves. Our problem is, she won’t just let me be myself. While my other friends will just back off and let me act up when I get emotional or moody or possessive or irritated, Anna won’t. She is constantly lecturing me about how I can improve the characteristics that she feels aren’t good. While I know that I do need to work on some areas, it’s so frustrating to hear about it all the time from her.

Like, yesterday my cousin called me to see if I could bring my cell phone charger to her house so that she could use it since hers was broken. I bathed my boys, fed them dinner and then walked out the door to take the 1 minute ride to her house. As soon as I heard the door close I cringed and looked down at my left hand.

I was holding the cell phone charger where my housekey should have been. DOH!

And my door locks automatically.

I was locked out. Again.

Since I had my cell phone I called Anna to tell her that I was locked out and to remember to bring my extra house key when she comes to visit me. My boys and I walked to my cousins house and a few of my cousins and their kids were there. Whenever more than two of my cousins get together it’s almost like a party. Get this: my mama has 7 sisters and 4 brothers. With the exception of one, they ALL live in Miami. So imagine how many cousins I have! And imagine how many kids we have!

We watched Scary Movie 3 and then sat down to chit chat. Anna arrived with her little girl and we sent all the kids to play in the room.

Now my kids bedtime is 8pm. And I am VERY strict about that. It’s very rare for me to let them stay up past that time because no matter how late they stay up they will STILL wake me up by 8am the next morning. So I figure, if I have to get up so early, then they have to go to bed early.

My boys are very good about going to bed on time. We take their bath, then we cuddle/wrestle/tickle for a little while then I usually talk to them about how much God loves us and how He has provided for us and I lead them to pray. Then I kiss and hug them and they ask for more kisses and hugs and finally I stand up and walk out of the room. My 3 yr old, who I call, “My little Shoo Shoo” always says the same joke and they both laugh.

“Goodnight boys.” I say and pull the door, leaving it open just enough to let the hall light stream in.

“You didn’t say goodnight to my BOOGERS!” Shoo Shoo says and they both LAUGH and LAUGH. ~sigh~ Boys are sooo….

Well anyway, I’m at my cousins house and it’s getting later and later. Way past 8pm. My boys are having fun and I’m having fun, but in the back of my mind I keep thinking, “Are you being responsible? Is this right to be having THIS much fun when your boys are with you? Shouldn’t I just take them home now? It’s so late.”

I know I’m very hard on myself when it comes to my kids. I think about every decision I make at least 2-3 times. I just figure if they turn out to be horrible adults I don’t want to be a contributing factor. I don’t want them to grow up and say, Mama scarred me by doing x-y-z. And I don’t want them to be one of those men who hates their Mama.

So I try to be the type of Mama that I ould love to have. I set boundaries which are sometimes fudged when appropriate. I like to teach my sons about God through my actions. I have taught them about God’s grace and how it applies to them. I told them that God loves us so much that he gives us grace when we don’t do things the right way all the time. He is not a monster who wants to punish us for every little mistake. So once in a while, when my boys mess up by not listening or doing something he knows he shouldn’t do, I’ll get upset and send him to his room, but when I go in after I’ve calmed down, I’ll talk to him and say, “I”m giving you grace this time. We all make mistakes. Do you know what you did wrong? Good. Don’t do it again. I still love you no matter what.” Then I let him go back to play.

This happens every once in a while. But dammit I don’t give myself ANY GRACE!

Which is why Anna gets so mad at me.

So it’s after midnight and the kids are still up and in my mind I’m freaking out but I’m trying to play it cool. I’m breaking one of my rules by being out after 8pm and even though no one is being hurt by it, I feel like I’m doing something wrong.

Since I locked myself out and I had to walk to my cousin’s house, I couldn’t just up and leave. I was getting frustrated because I heard my kids crying. I began to feel bad and think to myself, “They are tired, we shouldn’t have been up this late. I should have waited until they were with their Daddy if I wanted to have fun. This is so wrong.”

My aunt comes in and we sit and talk and laugh. She sees that I am worried about my kids and she says, “Tee you need to calm the fuck down. They alright. They are adults in their own little world and you have to give them a chance to play their roles.”

I listen. I sip some more. But after another hour, I can’t take it.

I jump up and announce that I want to leave because my kids are crying. (They had a fight with some of their other cousins) Anna looks at me like, “Tee, just give me five minutes and we can go.” Remember she has my house key and I don’t have my car and it’s after midnight.

“Gimme my house key!” I demand. “We’ll walk home.”
“Tee, you are NOT going to walk home with those boys THIS TIME OF NIGHT! Just wait five minutes for me to straighten up the place then we can go.” Anna says.

This infuriates me. How DARE she tell me to wait! My boys are crying, I shouldn’t have had them out this late ANYWAY. I’m being an irresponsible mother and she wants to prolong the madness.

“GIMME MY KEY ANNA!”
“Girl, please.” she says and dismisses me.

I hate Anna.

I sit down on the couch with my arms folded. I’m so heated. Anna doesn’t care. She calls me into the kitchen where she is washing the dishes.

“Tee, the boys are fine. You need to stop that. You need to stop punishing yourself because you have kids. You can hang out sometimes even WITH your kids. You are allowed to let them have fun with their cousins while you relax.”

“I don’t want a lecture from you.”

But she gives me one anyway.

I can’t stand her.

All I want is to be a good responsible Mom. I may take things to the extreme in a lot of areas, but I know with kids, you only have one shot. The words you say, the things you do, the way you show them love, will affect them for the rest of their lives.

The rest of their lives.

That is a lot of responsibility which I don’t take lightly.

I want to raise men of good character who will be responsible enough to take care of themselves.

I want good boys who will turn into good men.

I want to show them all the love and affection and approval that I never got.

I want them to know God from an early age.

I want so much for them, but inside I know, that they must want it for themselves…

But I can’t help trying to do things the right way. The right way?

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Training Ground

There’s something about this place.

I’m not gonna lie, I feel it in my heart everytime I take a drive.

There’s a buzz in the air. An excitement. Like the excited buzz that surrounds news of a spectacular event.

This city is so beautiful to me.

Now even more so, because I am an adult and I can enjoy it in all its splendor. From the hot nights to the Latin influence to the boys on the block to the white beaches; damn, we have it all.

As my job takes me to parts of Miami that I had never seen before my hearts seems to skip a beat. I have never experienced life like this. I imagines it, but never really put a finger on it. I may seem green or ghetto, but everytime I go to a party with my job, I have to take a moment to breathe and take in all the scenery.

I never saw anything like this when I grew up. Not only do these people have HOUSES, they have magnificent houses with drivers, nannies and a housekeeping staff. I grew up in some ol brown apartments across from Ra.nge Funeral home.

When I was away at college I used to think of Miami in terms of what it was when I was younger. I was surrounded by people who had no idea there was life outside of the city. I had only left two times before I went to college.

But I’m grateful to my time away from Miami. Not only did I receive an education from a top knotch University, I appreciate it here so much more because there’s so much to DO!

Every single night you can go out and have a good time. You may not find the type of people that you are looking to mingle with but there’s nothing wrong with being entertained by a new crowd. I’m discovering tastes for things I never even knew existed.

A couple of weeks ago we had a party at the Foun.tainebleu on 44th and Collins in the Penthouse. Dude, they had caviar, beef wellington, lamb lollipops and ice sculptures and so much more! (I tried to taste the caviar just so I could say I had some and let me tell you, I swallowed that stuff like I was on Fear Factor- don’t ask me what it tasted like) The penthouse (on the 37th floor) was brand new and on sale for $7 million. If you could have seen this view! Amazing…

I know I may sound brand new but damn, I’ve come a long way from 58th Terrace.

It’s kinda scary too. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to act around them. Yeah, I mean THEM. A fear grips me when I’m at a party and everyone is mingling. I want to leave as quickly as I can and if I can’t leave because I have to wish everyone a good night or something like that, I hide. Seriously. I hide wherever I can so that I won’t have to talk to anyone.

I have a problem walking up to people I don’t know and introducing myself. It’s so crazy because if it were a BLACK person I would have no problem.

It’s not easy for me being the only Black person at events. And then to know all of this splendor is so new to me, I feel out of place a lot. But at the end of the day when I lie down at night my dreams include the things that I see now. My hopes have expanded because my reality has expanded. Last week I dreamt I owned a penthouse on the Beach and it was beautifully decorated with simple colors like I like, grays and reds. It was NICE!

I believe this is my training ground. I have to get over this mistrust of white people. This is the one part of my job that I am uncomfortable with. And it happens to be the most important. I must learn to socialize with white people. They are so nice to me, but I just freeze up. I don’t know what to say.

Before last week’s party I promised myself that I would have at least 3 conversations during the evening.

I had two.

Good start.

I just have to relax, be myself and stop thinking about their skin color. I can’t help it though. I have NEVER had a white friend before. I don’t believe that I could be friends with a white person. For some reason, I think that at the first sign of discomfort in the friendship they would say some insulting racist comment.

I wish I would meet someone who would help me to change my mind.

But for now, I’ll keep trying.

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Days Like This

I wish we could get days off for GOOD weather.

I’m home with my boys and we’re doing what we usually do during the months of June -October. We’re waiting on a storm to pass us by. Schools were closed early today and schools are closed tomorrow in Dade and Broward counties and since I work at a school (my private school follows the same weather schedule as public schools) I don’t have to work either.

So I’m home. I fixed my boys a snack. They are eating pretzels and drinking juice and watching a video.

I’m supposed to be cleaning my room to match my COMPLETELY CLEAN HOUSE, but I’m lazy. I’ll admit it. But I wasn’t lazy enough to pass that dough on to a friend of mine who cleaned MY ENTIRE HOUSE! My ENTIRE HOUSE! Wow. It smells so good in here.

I’m such a lazy bum.

But my laziness motivates me to work harder in other areas so that I will make more money to pay people to do the things that I’m too lazy to do.

I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

~smiling~

Well, lemme go get to folding these clothes and straightening up. If the storm hits, I just hope that we are all safe down here and recovery time is minimal. Just let us get some rain and some winds, I don’t think the country can handle another storm like Katrina.

I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

You know what? I’m happy right now. Yeah, I’m still a little tense, as I usually am, but that’s okay. My boys are here. We have some more time to cuddle. I know that my sons are the only reason why I am sane today. And they are the reason why I know I’ll be okay. I have to be okay. Because I have to take care of them. They need me.

Or so I thought.

You won’t believe what my baby did today! My Sugarbear, my honeybun-he…he… Man.

So this morning I was running about 20 minutes late so by the time I drove my younger son to his school in the city and I got back to my older son’s school breakfast was almost over. I turn the car off and open my door. My 5 year old son is already standing outside the door, anxious to be on his way to the cafeteria.

“Sugarbear,” I ask him. “There’s only a few minutes left before breakfast, do you still want to try to eat?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he answers and takes a few steps toward the school. “Are you coming with me?”

“Don’t you want me to come?” I ask him.

“Mama. I can go by myself.”

“Do you mean that you can walk to the cafeteria, get your tray, sit down, open all your food, throw the tray away- all by yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I frown. “Are you sure?”

“I can do it Mama.” he says confidently and smiles.

“And then what do you do after you are finished eating?”

“Go to the courts to sit with my friends.”

My lower lip quivers.

“Ok, then give me a kiss.”

He kisses me quickly and walks away waving.

I stand there and watch him. His bookbag is almost as big as he is.

And there goes my little man, walking away from me, by himself, into the big elementary school.

There goes my little baby. Will he make it safely to the cafeteria? What if someone snatches him on the way there?

I watch him.

He turns around and waves again and dissappears.

I get back into my car and sit for a minute.

I know I have been practing with him for this moment. And we’ve talked about him having breakfast on his own and me just dropping him off at the gate, but, I thought I had a few more days at least.

I didn’t know he would be ready so soon.

I’m okay though. I taught him everything. He’s so smart. He will be alright.

He’s my little Sugarbear.

My smart, smart little man!

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Dats my Dawg!

Well I still can’t stand Anna.

That chick gets on my last NERVES! Always offering unsolicited advice. I’m like, “Excuse me, Who asked you?” ~rolls eyes~

I really can’t stand her, but regardless of that—I am SOOO PROUD OF MY GIRL!

Anna passed her teacher certification classes and is now officially a Miami-Dade County Public School teacher! YAYYYYYYYYY!!! She has her own little portable classroom. Her own little class. They call her “Miss K” LOL!

My girl is a PROFESSIONAL. My GIRL gonna make some loot! My girl did it, despite all the shit talkers, all the obstacles, being a single Mom, broke foot, overdue bills, raggedy boyfriends and EVERYTHING else that stood in her way.

I am so proud of her. She has no idea! I know where she is coming from. Hell, I know what she is still surrounded by- a bunch of lazy, no goal having foot draggers. And my dawg, rose up out of that BS and is doing EXACTLY what she planned to do since highschool.

That takes strength.

One time for the beautiful Black women reaching their goals!!!

You inspire me…

I still can’t stand your ass though!

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Finally Friday

Anyone out there wanna rub my feet?

silence.

Crickets.

I guess not.

I don’t care. My feet are really hurting from the MONSTER of an event we had tonight. We dedicated our new athletic field and it was a very nice ceremony and everyone enjoyed themselves except ME. People at my school think my department is all about partying but we don’t get to party when we have an event. We’re working! Well, at the end of the evening we get to enjoy some wine or whatever but we’re always making sure that everyone else is having fun.

I spoke to ONE person I didnt know. It was a black woman. She was there with one of our biggest donors. They anounced his name and hers, she was his fiance.

I was like, DAMNNNN! She looked like a round-the-way girl just like I am. And he was OLD! I thought to myself, “Self. Since you’re not interested in love or sex, you might as well marry a rich white man. At least he’ll be nice to you and spoil you. And he’ll probably adore you.”

So, thats my plan. So if you know any old rich white men with an interest in partially ghetto Black women with shaved heads,kids and green eyes- send them my way.

But that’s not the kicker. Get this- This morning, my baby daddy came over to pick up the boys. I walked outside to get my younger son’s bookbag out of my car and what did I see? My baby daddy just copped a JAGUAR!

Yes, A JAGUAR!

I was so happy for him at first. I mean, when I was with his broke ass, he didnt even have any furniture in his apt. He drove a Suzuki sidekick that cost him $120 a month. He grew up crazy poor and now he’s a very successful attorney. I’m proud of him. I wish we could be friends and I could celebrate with him. If he was my friend, I would have been huggin him and asking to sit in the drivers seat. I would have asked to take a picture sitting on it.

I am still proud of him. Even though he acts stank with me.

I still don’t get why he hates me so much. ~shrugs~ But I never will.

I mean, if you supposedly don’t care about a person, wouldn’t that make you indifferent to them? We all know the opposite of love is not hate, its indifference. I would rather him be indifferent toward me than how spiteful he is now.

But oh well. Really I’m so used to him acting mean that I’m numb to it. I expect it.

But that doesn’t mean I deserve it.

I’m just beginning to recognize that it’s not my fault that he didn’t know how to love me.

Ok, I have to go. Sylvia is at the door and she rented CRASH for us to watch tonight.

Later…

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BOOM!

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Well, well, well…

I’ve seen the infamous movie called CRASH. This movie surprised me on many different levels because I refused to watch any trailers or allow anyone to tell me about the movie beforehand. I had no idea what to expect. But even if I had expectations, I don’t think I would have been ready for what I saw.

Here’s a brief synopsis of my favorite scenes.

First and foremost I flipped out when I saw Ludacris in this movie. I thought he did a great job as the racially paranoid thug. He gave example after example of the racist attitudes of people toward blacks, yet he and his co-hort, Larenz Tate, perpetuated each stereotype. My mouth dropped open when Larenz and Ludacris pulled out their guns and jacked a white couple for an SUV! I believe their mindframe was, if they think we’re going to act a certain way then we may as well do it.

Seeing the reaction of the white woman who was jacked for her SUV was phenomenol. After the attack, this woman was paranoid that someone with ‘baggy jeans and prison tattoos’ would break into her house. She said something to the effect of, “When a white person walks down the street and they see two black guys and they turn the other way then they’re called racist, but I see two black guys and I don’t turn around and the next thing I know I have a GUN IN MY FACE! When I KNEW what I should have done! I KNEW IT!”

She later admitted that she found that she felt angry all the time and she didn’t know why. I know why. I’ve felt the same way. Once you have a traumatic experience like that with someone of another race you began to feel powerless and angry and hurt all at the same time. It’s difficult to see the distinguishing features that make each person different, all you can see is skin color and instinct causes you to react defensively when you see a person of a similar color.

The defensiveness comes out as anger, bitterness and rage. It’s because you are insecure and you have your defenses up to ensure that you NEVER have to go through that again. You’re irrationally paranoid but you justify it because you feel it will bring you safety. But it won’t because then you’ll continue to be a prisoner to your pain.

The scene that nearly brought me to tears was the scene between the Latin father and his daughter. It was something about him that comforted me as he told his daughter a story about a magical inpenetrable cloak that could stop bullets in order to coax her from under the bed and out of her fears of being shot.

He does a fantastically elaborate job of untying the magical cloak from his neck and then tying it around his daughter and tucking her into bed.

All I could think about while watching him and his daughter interact was, damn, he really, really cares. And he knows how to talk to her on her level, without making it an authority issue. He could have screamed at her and forced her to come from under the bed but he didn’t, he talked to her like she was a person and she listened. I find myself doing that more and more with my sons. And it shocked me to realize that they really listen when you speak to them.

And they understand me.

After watching a few more scenes of different examples of people and their racist attitudes I was getting kinda bored with the whole thing. I’m thinking, “This movie is depressing. Everybody hates everybody! This sure won’t help me with my issues.”

Then came the scene where the Black couple was pulled over by two white cops. Hmmmm. My mouth was fixed in a permanent smirk while watching this, one eyebrow raised, head cocked to the side.

The officers pull the couple over because he says, “Something is going on.” He sees a woman’s head raise up and he deduces that she was giving the driver oral pleasure. There was a sparkle in his eye that looked like LUST to me as he charged up to the window and asked for their information. The Black man, who is a television director and his wife don’t look dangerous and the male driver is sober, yet the cop asks the driver to get out of the car. Then he asks him to turn around and lock his fingers behind his head. Totally uncalled for!

The man questions the officers and his wife, (pictured above) jumps out of the vehicle and comes around to confront the officers. She’s quite tipsy and she is upset that they are treating them that way. One of the officers tells them both to get against the car and turn around. He is frisking the man’s wife and touching her all over. His hands fondle her breasts and slide down to her thighs, her calfs, and even further. As he is molesting the Black man’s wife he is looking him in the eye and saying, “I could arrest you right now and charge you with….I could have your wife arrested too…” The police officer is reminding the Black man of all he could lose and showing him that he has all the power. The hurtful part about this scene is watching the white man’s hands go up and under the woman’s cocktail dress and her husband is right there and doesn’t do a thing to stop him.

The Black man opts to apologize to the officer and leave without a fuss. This scene EXPLODES into a tearful domestic dispute as the black man and his wife deal with the emotions created by the devastating experience. The woman accuses the man of not caring about her because she felt he should have stopped the police officers. The man counters that he did the right thing and she cusses him out like a demon!

At one point she says she didn’t fight back because she was thinking about his reputation. I’m sure that is why he didn’t fight back either. Respected and probably very highly paid, this man did not want to lose his LIFESTYLE. And his wife didn’t either. It wasn’t about personal pride, it was about the fear of poverty. He would have gotten arrested, it would have affected his career, possibly cost him his job and they would have had to start all over again. Who wants to do that?

This scene seemed to express that there are people who will put their self respect aside to make money. This idea was brought to the forefront again when the same Black man is at work on his TV set when a ‘producer type guy’ walks over and suggests that the director is making the characters less Black by changing the lines and correcting their speech. At first the director tries to blow him off but the ‘producer type guy’ makes it clear that he is serious. The director knows it is racial sterotyping at its best but again, he chooses to make that money and preserve his lifestyle, instead of standing up for what he believes in. But who would have made a different choice?

In one of the final scenes after Ludacris somehow escapes jail AGAIN, he steals a van and attempts to sell it at a chop shop. When the men open up the back of the van they see that it is full of people being sold as slaves. The chop shop guy offers to buy everyone in the van at $500 a piece and Ludacris considers his offer.

The movie cuts away to another scene and when it gets back to Ludacris he is seen opening up the back of the van in the middle of a busyarea and telling all of the “slaves” that they can go.

He freed the slaves.

That was cute.

After watching this movie my ideals about the origin of modern day racism hold true. I still believe that racism is rooted in insecurity, fear and pain. When someone is not feeling good about themselves, the first thing they try to do is put someone else down in an effort to elevate themselves.

I believe racist attitudes are passed down from parent to child and the occasional racist experience is often passed on like a folk tale and the pain of the moment is embedded into the listener’s heart, causing them to react as if they too had experienced the racist act.

Like I wrote in an essay titled: I Was a Racist, “Forgiveness is the only way to break the resilient bond of racism.” Forgive the person who hurt you and there will be no more pain to hold on to. No more revenge to be taken. No more blurry faces and luminous skin tones.

Just peace.

Just peace.

I want that peace too.

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Dry Humpin Kanye on his Keyboard

I find myself fondling my remote control more often lately.

I’m looking at the Viewer Guide Channel. I’m scrolling through entertainment and music just to see if HE might be on. And more often than not, I can sit down smiling as his face and voice invade my reality.

At first I thought he would be just another celebrity crush. I even mentioned to my friends that I wanted to do some freaky stuff to him. But then I realized I was doing it again. For some reason when I admire a man, I want to express my appreciation sexually. It’s as if it’s the most natural feeling for me. Realizing this allowed me to finally find closure about the only secret I was ever afraid to admit aloud.

I still care about my Baby Daddy.

In a romantic way.

I know it’s stupid of me. I know it’s hard to swallow. I wish I could turn my feelings off but I can’t.

I have been searching and praying for answer as to why I would still think about this damn man. ~rolls eyes~ My friends say its because I have not had any other interaction with men since my relationship. Sure I’ve had relations, but no relationships.

But today. Today. I realized that it’s not really HIM that I still love, it’s his accomplishments.

Before I met my Baby Daddy, I dated all kinds of men who were aimlessly wandering without a thought about the future. Ofcourse being the super supportive person that I am, I pushed them to have goals, to think about life and to plan for it. After a while it became draining to have to carry that deadweight…and then I met my Baby Daddy.

He blew me away. He was on a TOTALLy different level than any other man I had ever met.

That nicca was on point even before I met him. Dude even had his TRANSCRIPT tacked on his room door for public viewing. I knew that with or without me, he was going to be very successful. And that was so sexy to me.

He’s the type of man who likes to be in control. In control of himself, his environment and his woman. I was sooo ready to be the follower after years of having to pave the way.

And I did. I followed. And got lost. And I’m trying to find civilization again.

Now when I look at him, I admit I get a little sad. I always imagined us married with kids and a big house with multiple cars and dream vacations. I believe he will still have all of those things, just with someone else.

It doesn’t bother me so much that he’s with Hyper Chick. I think what bothers me the most is the fact that the ONE man who had his shit together totally rejected me. And the truth of it is, I have not met a single man who can even touch him professionally.

I like professional men. Scratch that, I like successful men. LEGALLY SUCCESSFUL men. I like men with multiple degrees and investment portfolios and outstanding resume’s that boast Board of Director positions.

And I have YET to meet one that is tighter than my Baby Daddy.

That shit is very sad. Very sad.

Where are all the tight men at? Or is it really that something is wrong with ME?

I know he treats me like the lowest person on earth which is why I feel like I’m the dumbest woman alive for admitting that I still care about him, but when I ask myself would I still care about him in a romantic way if he didn’t have a JD or a Jag or a Masters in Real Estate— damn… I don’t know.

He isn’t NICE to me. He doesn’t VALUE me. He HATES me and shows it in the most infantile ways yet I find myself fantasizing about being with him. I secretly hope he’ll change but I know he won’t.

He won’t.

I know, I know, but as messed up as this all sounds puh-lease buh-lieve that I am MUCH better than I used to be concerning him.

But strip him of his education and his temporary wealth and what is he? A mean man.

Why would I ever desire that for myself? I know I’m worth more than what he can offer. He’s blind to the prize that he had by his side. I can’t lie I was blind myself for a time.

I don’t love him. I love the American Dream that he stands for. I love the way he was determined and focused and succeeded in spite of. I love his accomplishments. I can’t love him because to love him romantically would mean that I don’t love myself.

Now this is where Mr. West comes in.

Now this mutha sucka, hell yeah, I’m feeling him. Kanye West is the FIRST MAN since my Baby Daddy to give me that ‘damn, this is some new kind of nicca’ feeling.

He’s kinda nerdy. Which I love. He’s so cute though. And he’s so passionate about what he does and he’s so good at it too. I can’t do anything but respect and admire someone who is willing to ignore the tried and true formula of success and make it a WHOLE DIFFERENT way. I get tingles when I hear him speak. I get weak when I see him do that nervous tick (dance move?) that he does. Dude wore a green and black sweater with a PINK shirt underneath and a white collared shirt underneath that. Dude doesn’t CARE! ~sigh~ So damn sexy!

I LOVE a man who doesn’t follow the status quo.

I think I love groundbreakers because deep inside I know that my presence in this world is to do some groundbreaking shit too. I don’t know what it is yet, but when I do, you’ll all know.

I am not afraid to be me. I am not afraid to tell the truth. I am not afraid to take my heart and put it on a velvet pillow for your examination.

I’m not afraid of what you think of me.

I used to be, but not anymore.

So yes, I’ll continue to fantasize about one day meeting up with Kanye and writing some material with him, but no more sexscapades (unless it’s after midnight and I’m still up).

I can admire a man, I can appreciate a man, but that doesn’t mean that I have to BE with that man.