Me and Them

Before I met my Baby Daddy I met all of these great guys. We would hang out all the time, go to parties together, go on trips together and just kick-it on campus. The best thing about my relationship with them was, there was absolutely no physical attraction. So we were just friends, although their girlfriends sometimes had problems with that, until they got to know me.

After I got with my Baby Daddy, I found out that these same guys were his friends too. In fact, they were just as cool with him as they were with me, but you know guys are gonna have a different type of relationship. So when he ‘introduced’ me to them, they were like- HELL NAW!!! Not, Ms. Tee! She’s cool as hell! I’m sure my Baby Daddy was pleased that his friends approved.

The relationship was great because his friends were already my friends and we all became closer because their girlfriends became my friends and my sorority sisters. It was literally one big clique of people dating each other. When our relationship ended, things became weird. The guy friends that I loved so much didn’t really talk to me anymore. They had to choose sides and they chose him.

I see them from time to time or we communicate by e-mail and I’m careful not to mention any of the things that go one between me and my Baby Daddy. I don’t want to create an uncomfortable situation. But sometimes it feels like maybe he is telling them bad things about me. Even when I found out he was reading this blog I couldn’t quit writing like some of my friends suggested. He knows I am truthful, even if my truth is jaded by my emotions.

It’s funny how each and every friend we had together is truly a remarkable person and not one of them would ever believe the stories I have to tell about BD, so I don’t even go there. I act like everything is fine. To them he’s a hero, he’s a survivor, he’s the american dream. He’s quite the go-getter and makes you feel like you can do anything when you’re around him. I can see why they are friends with him although they will probably never see the side that I have to see.

One time I emailed my friend and said, “I don’t know what he’s telling you that will make you not return my phone calls or emails but you KNOW me, you KNOW my heart, you KNOW what kind of person I am. At the root of things I have not changed even though me and him are not together.”

I miss my friends so much. I know I didn’t do anything to them and I understand that they knew him longer and he’s a guy and guy’s stick together and all that. I just…I miss my friends. I wasn’t invited to any of their weddings. That hurt so much. But yeah, I know you wouldn’t want to make him and his girlfriend uncomfortable.

I guess I’m thinking about them because they are all at Stephanie and Jason’s wedding right now. I really, really wanted to be there. I wanted to see everyone and give out hugs and cry and be emotional and dance and drink and have fun with the people who loved me before I turned into a Baby Mama. ~smile~ They got to know the cool, hang out all night, let’s hit this blunt two times chick with the sassy attitude and the warm spirit.

We were all cool then.

We were all friends.

It’s like everyone is still in the loop but me.

Who knew that when he walked away, most of my guy friends would too?

~sniff~

I hope everyone at the wedding is having fun.

The Real Ms. Tee

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Move over Tyra I have a twin too!

Every once in a while I get an e-mail similar to this one.

“Are you the same ms. tee from new orleans that has those cd’s out? lemme know, if so, big fan, totally!” Josh

There seems to be another Ms. Tee out there in the universe and she’s a hardcore rapper from New Orleans. After yet another email from one of her fans who found my blog through the search engine I had to look her up for myself.

All I have to say is WHOA!

Check the lyrics from her song beautifully titled, Getintoitwithabitch.

When I get into it with a bitch, I tote my shank,
Cut them hoes cuz they want that yay,
I gotta watch my back, because them hoes are tryin’ to handle me,
Catch me out my shank, and them hoes’ll try to get me,
Get up bitch, cuz you know I’m bout to start some shit,
You and your girls, yes you comin’ with the foolishness,
But I smack you fuckin’ hoes and then I’ll grab my nine,
I grab my shank and grab my nine because I gotta get mine

Wow. She’s just like me! I’d love to shank a hoe and smack a hoe with my nine just as soon as I finish bathing these kids.

Ms. Tee in Miami
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No More Days Like This

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“I hope I never have to do this again,” I thought to myself as I scrubbed the blood stained floor.

I dipped the scrub brush into the bucket of bleach and water and pressed firmly on the tile in circular motions as dried blood flakes disengaged and mixed with the water turning my entire floor into a pinkish grey puddle of water.

Tile by tile I scrubbed on hands and knees until the trail of blood was gone. Is this what I have to look forward to? Will I have to go through this again?

I threw up my hands in despair as I walked to my room and sat on my bed. If I live another 20 years I never want to have another day like today.

It started innocently enough, a typical Sunday morning. My sons woke up by daybreak and tried unsuccessfully to coax me out of bed. “Get your behinds in the room until I come get you. Mama wanna go back to sleep.”

They let me rest for another hour before they declared they were starving. I quickly fixed two bowls of Frosted Flakes, a saucer of Fruit cocktail and some apple juice and I dove back into bed.

By 10 am I felt refreshed and I stumbled out of bed wearing a t-shirt and some panties. I opened their room door and found them playing with these Power Ranger action figures that their Grandaddy had just bought them.

I cleared off the table and went right back to bed. Hey, that’s what the weekend is for right? My phone rings shortly thereafter and it’s Marsha returning my call. I wanted to ask if she had a referral for a photographer because I know that she once considered being a model. She told me that she used to be with the agency that wants to work with me and that she had submitted her photographs and they had actually called her a few times to go on casting calls but she never went because the money they were offering wasn’t good enough.

I wrap up my conversation with her and head to the kitchen to fix myself breakfast/lunch. Hmm… I feel like a ham and cheese sandwhich and I’ll fry that bad boy in some margarine to make it extra warm and TASTY!

I pull out the ham and the cheese and sit them on the counter. I hear the bedroom door jiggle and my son’s head pops out. “Mama, we want some peanut butter and jelly. We’re hungry.”

I smirk and turn to look at the clock on the microwave. 11:58. Ok, I guess they could be hungry. “Alright, I’ll make the peanut butter and jelly,” I tell them. “Now go back in your room until I tell you it’s ready.”

“YAY!!!” They squeal.

It only takes two seconds for me to make a good pb&j and I cut the sandwhiches diagonally just like they like them and carry them to the table when I hear a loud THUD.

The THUD is followed by a scream. I shake my head and walk to the doorway. My 5 year old is standing there holding his head and crying. I’m used to this. One of them is always bumping into the other one or falling down. I’m ready to kiss all the pain away and serve lunch.

“Come here baby. Let me see.” I coax him to let me take a peek. He’s still screaming and crying. I remove his hands from his forehead and I gasp. WHAT THE FUCK?!!!

My baby has a huge gash in his forehead. It’s about the size of a quarter and as soon as his hands uncover it blood starts gushing out. He leans forward and it runs out of his wound onto the kitchen floor.

OH SHIT!!! I start to panic.

I know! I have to get him to a hospital! Let me get my clothes!

I snatch off my t-shirt and throw it on the floor. I run into my room, then out again.

WHERE’S MY BRA?!!!

I can’t find it. My son is screaming, blood is pouring everywhere. I grab my cell phone and call 911.

I can’t drive with him screaming like that! Please let him be ok!

The operator comes on and asks what is my emergency. I can barely hear her over my son’s screaming but I can tell she’s a young Black woman.

I grab a towel and press it to his forehead and the lady on the phone is saying something.

“WHAT?” I scream.

“Grab a clean towel and press it on the wound to stop the bleeding,” she says loudly.

“I did that!”

“Ok, give me your address so I can send fire rescue.”

“There’s no fire! I SAID my son hit his head on the bed!”

“Ma’am it’s the same thing,” she tells me. “Calm down.”

I tell her my address and cross streets in a frenzy. I’m freaking out!

“Don’t let him eat or drink anything. Have him sit down and you have to relax so that he will relax.”

“Well I’m standing here NAKED in the kitchen holding a towel over my son’s bloody gash! The paramedics will be here any minute and they don’t want to see me like this!”

“Well, they’re on the way, so we can hang up now,” she says.

My 3 year old is standing near us looking worried.

“Sit down, Boo Boo,” I tell my Sugarbear. He’s still crying, a little more quietly though. He wasn’t bleeding anymore but he was scared.

“The ambulance is on its way,” I tell him as I find a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt to wear. My 3 year old moves toward the front door looking sad.

I’m STILL running around because I can’t find my briefcase full of important papers. It has the boy’s insurance card in it.

The fire dept arrives and my son is calm now. They take a look at his wound and tell me that he’ll be okay but he definately need stitches.

“I don’t wanna ride in that truck Mama!” My son says.

“I’ll drive him to the hospital,” I tell the paramedics.

They place a band-aid on his gash and leave.

I call my Mama and tell her to come and pick up my 3 year old. She and her husband are there within minutes and she looks as if she’s about to cry when she sees all the blood on the floor.

“You’re okay Baby,” I tell my son. “We’re going to the doctor and he’ll fix you up.”

I pack a lunchable and a capri sun along with a couple of small toys for the hospital trip. We arrive at the emergency room and sign-in. It’s 30 minutes before they even call our name. The nurse takes one look at his forehead and tells us we are going on the fast track because it’s urgent.

By this time my son is playing and laughing as we wait for a bed. The waiting room TV is on BET and they are showing The Disorderlies featuring The Fat Boys! I hadn’t seen that movie in forever! My Sugarbear thought it was soo funny!

Part-way into the movie they call my baby’s name and we are escorted to the back where they have set up bed #17. “It’s the sewing bed,” the nurse tells the medical assistant as she asks him to gather up all the necessary materials.

My son is laughing and playing around and I’m joking with him too. The doctor arrives and asks him what happened.

He repeats the same story he told me and the paramedics, “I was trying to show my brother a trick and I fell down and hit my head on the bed.”

“That’s okay, we’ll have you feeling all better. Why don’t you lie down,” she says and he leans back. “Watch out now, we’re gonna FLY THROUGH THE AIR!” she says and raises the bed.

He laughs, “WHOOOOOOOAAA!! COOL!” he says.

“Now watch this,” she says as she slides him on his side and places a folded sheet underneath him. She flips him over and wraps him inside the sheet like a mummy.

“Hahaahaaa!” I laugh and tickle him. “Look at you, my little mummy.”

“Mama, look at me! I’m all wrapped up!” he says and giggles.

The medical assistant brings out the tape and tapes from one side of the bed across his body to the other side of the bed. He does this over and over until my son can’t move at all.

“Hey baby!” I say and tap his foot. “Look at you! How funny!”

My Sugarbear laughs. “Hey, what are you doing doctor? This is fun! I can’t move!”

The medical assistant points the bright light towards his forehead and I cringe as I see the doctor pull out a big syringe. She walks toward my son and…and… my knees get weak as I hear him scream.

“MAMAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!’

“HELLPPPPPPP!!!!!!!”

The doctor is numbing his forehead so that she can give him stitches. With every scream I hear, my breathing slows down. One of the nurses notices my trauma and brings me a chair. The patients in the next bed bring me some tissue. I sit down near the foot of the bed and try my best to offer encouraging words to my son who is screaming BLOODY MURDER!!!

I’m crying and sobbing quietly as he calls for me. “I’m right here baby,” I manage to choke out calmly. “They’re almost done.”

A lifetime later, they are done and I peek at my baby’s head. It’ a bloody mess so I have to sit down again. When they are all done cleaning him, I stand and help remove the tape and unwrap my baby.

He jumps into my arms and I hold him tightly.

“See!” I say, “All better. Now we get to go to Grandaddy’s house and see your brother.”

“Ok Mama,” he says quietly.

The doctor comes over and gives him a sticker. He smiles and shows it to me. It has a picture of a shark on it.

“Call your doctor and make an appointment for a week from tomorrow,” she tells me. “His stitches will need to be removed then.”

“How many did he get?”

“Three underneath because the wound was so deep, and five on top. There will always be a slight scar, but he’ll be okay.”

I take my baby’s hand and we walk out of the emergency room and get into my car. My stomache growls. Damn, I forgot that I haven’t had a thing to eat all day.

Lord, please let this be the last time I have to call 911 for either of my sons. I don’t think I can handle another day like this.

For My Viewing Pleasure

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I’ve been stifling my feelings and I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care what anyone says or thinks about me, I have to get it out. If you laugh, so what? If you think I’m crazy, oh well. I just have to say it:

Kanye West is the most wonderful man in the world. He makes me all tingly inside. He’s so silly! Did you see him on Punk’D? Oh my gosh! Dude wasn’t having it! He was sooo gangsta!

I think everyone thinks I’m crazy because he’s a celebrity and maybe I’ll never get to meet him but he is the epitome of all things I admire in a man. I may never be able to get married to anyone because I can’t imagine meeting a man as amazing as Kanye and I will not settle for less.

I always imagined a man I could admire and look up to who would challenge me to be better while at the same time making me feel GREAT because I can’t stand men who try to motivate through criticism. I always wanted to meet a man who I felt was tighter than I am and could change the world with his presence in the same way that I hope to. He uplifts me. He inspires me. He makes me wanna touch the sky. In fact, I know I can and I WILL. I recognize his spirit and his anointing and it’s an amazing feeling. There’s something about his spirit that connects me to him.

I imagine this is what it feels like to be in love.

Yes, this is it.

I am so happy! Because of Kanye I know that dreams do come true. I dare you to name one man on this planet that is more phenomenal than he is.

That’s all I ever wanted, someone different, someone new and fresh who speaks to my soul and ignites a fire in my spirit I never knew could burn so brightly. If I can dare to dream about one day having a positive impact on the world then I can dream that one day someone as extraordinary as Kanye West could possibly be a part of my world.

I needed this. I needed to believe that a man is worthy of my attention and affection.

And he definately is.

She’s gone.

I hadn’t spoken to her in so long but I’ll never forget how much love I had for her.

I met her through this white girl named Suzy that I tried to be friends with back in the day. We didn’t make it. We’re both crazy in the same way and there can only be one crazy friend in the group. Even still, I check up on Suzy from time to time, because we came from the same place, battled the same spirits and dreamt the same dreams. Even though we don’t speak often I’m proud of her. I’m happy how her life turned out and I relish in all of her accomplishments. Seeing her happy gives me hope and makes my day, even though we can’t stand each other most of the time. ~shrugs~ It’s a weird kind of love, I know. I guess only God can do that.

One day, Suzy introduced me to her little sister, Yelena. From the moment I saw her I knew I loved her. Isn’t that strange how that happens? You meet someone and you just…know. You know you have similar spirits and my heart went out to her because I wanted her to live for the Lord and I wanted to fix all of her heartache and I wanted to rescue her but I couldn’t because only God can do that.

All I could do was listen to her, laugh with her and pray for her. When I saw her I saw myself and I wish I could have been the balm which would ease her soul, but only God can do that.

I got a comment from Suzy earlier today asking me to read her blog. I clicked her link and these two words stood alone on the top of her page.

She’s gone.

Who?

I read further and discovered that Yelena had been getting sick since Thanksgiving. She had been having seizures and had even been hospitalized.

But she was supposed to pull through.

Doesn’t it make a more powerful testimony if things turn out well in the end? Where’s her happiness? Where’s her wonderful husband? Where’s her chance to shine and show everyone that a rough beginning doesn’t mean a rough ending?

How does God get the glory in this?

I just don’t understand.

Your latter will be greater.

Where’s her latter? When do I get to rejoice with her?

I’m going over and over with this in my mind. I’m trying, I’m trying, but I can’t figure out how a young single mother who came from so much pain can leave her little girl to remain and we still praise His name. What am I missing? What don’t I see? I need you God to come speak to me. Were my prayers unanswered? What did I lack? I’m trying to make sense of this, but I guess…

Only God can do that.

I affirm Myself

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I appreciate my life.

I will not take any day for granted.

I will smile like my joy is contagious.

I will hope like it’s one breath away.

I will allow myself space for mistakes.

I am a beautiful Black mother.

My future was predestined by God.

I must concern myself with being more in tune with Him.

My Body is important.

I am important.

I will walk proudly with the knowledge of who I am, even if no one else recognizes it yet.

I will recognize that discipline is doing what needs to be done, regardless of if I want to do it or not.

I will only become better if I focus less on criticising myself and start applauding who I am right now.

I have a secret and I’m sure you want to know what it is… ~wink~

Get it MAMA!!!

She’s a BITCH

I was being bitchy today.

Usually when I am being bratty it’s because something is bothering me and today was no exception.

For the past few weeks I knew that this day would come and I dreaded it like Biology final exams.

Today was my Director’s Holiday party at her house.

Shocked? Disappointed?

Well, don’t be. Your worst fear may be dieing or falling down the stairs but mine is being stuck in a social environment with people and we have nothing to talk about. That is the WORST!!!

Sure, my co-workers are all sweet and kind people it’s just I haven’t taken the time or the given the effort to get to know them beyond our work environment. They all are friends with each other. They borrow cars, sporting equipment, call each other on the weekend and everything but you know I’m not a part of that loop.

And I don’t want to be. Is something wrong with that? Why do I feel so guilty?

I have no desire to make friends with the people in my work place.

I am cordial as their assistant. I do whatever they ask of me in a timely manner and I will even go beyond just to make their lives a little easier, but when I’m off work, I don’t want to be bothered.

It’s not just my co-workers. I’m like that in a lot of different areas. I don’t know any of my neighbors names. Well, except David because his mail keeps coming into my box, but otherwise I smile, say Hi and walk in the door. I don’t want them knocking at my door unannounced asking for sugar or bread or to see what’s going on. I want my space. I won’t bother you, please don’t bother me.

Usually when I talk to people our conversations are either about goals, dreams, issues or sex. I don’t see myself talking to my co-workers about those things because:

1) They are all older and have accomplished their goals and are well into their careers and I don’t want to seem like the doofus who is always asking career building questions.

2) They are White and I hate to show my vulnerable/less than perfect side to White people. They already see that I’m a single Mom and they know I’m in court battling my Baby Daddy because I have to leave every so often to meet with an attorney who ends up NOT taking my case because I have no money for a retainer. Stereotypes, stereotypes… I’m a freakin statistic. That is not cute.

Plus, you can learn a lot about a person by watching how they talk about others.

You KNOW how I am. If I’m feeling funny about a person I will just talk to them about it. I don’t whisper behind backs and try to convince my friends to feel the same way I do. I can’t be in the gossip circle because I think people who spread unflattering rumors about others are extremely childish. If you want to say something about someone else, build them up. ~shrugs~ Why not? When you tear someone down in vicious gossip, you look like an ass.

So instead of sitting and sipping wine with my co-workers I fabricated a story about my son being sick to avoid the social obligation.

And my heart has been sick ever since. I hate to lie.

I do like them, But I like being by myself more. I’m used to it. I feel NORMAL when I’m alone. I don’t need a million party invitations or friends stopping by. In fact, I rarely have company and I’m content with that. Besides, I’m never really ALONE. Hell, I have two kids! If that’s not enough company I don’t know what is!

When they go to bed I just wanna take off my bra, clean up the mess in the kitchen (if I feel like it) and just chill.

I remember once I was trying to explain to an old friend from church that I liked being by myself and she said, “Are you depressed?”

No, I’m not depressed, I’m just over the part of my life where I felt like I had to be the center of attention and admired by others. I don’t think of myself as particularly sexy or pretty (sike!) but I get dressed up and socialize so infrequently that when I do it, it’s a big deal and that makes my life more exciting.

When I go out, I’m not the life of the party. I’m the chick with a drink in her hand standing to the side– just peepin. Then if the music is good I’m the chick on the dance floor dancing all by herself all night.

A friend of mine told me, “You just like to be bothered on your own terms. You’ve been that way forever. You like to control the depth of your relationships.”

Yada, yada, yada. I’m just being mean by not going. These people reach out to me all the time but I just can’t bring myself to accept their friendship. I don’t trust them. I hate this feeling of always putting up a wall so that others can’t get through to hurt me. That’s what I do, especially with White people.

I am so standoffish until I feel like it’s safe to open up.

I guess that means I’ll holla at you when I’m in the mood.

Ewww… That’s not too nice.

But damn. That’s just me.

Revisiting My Past

Here’s what I was doing last year on December 20th. Wow! Size 6? Those were the days….

Monday, December 20, 2004

Holiday Help

It seems as if everyone is out and about on the quest for gifts for their loved ones. I actually had a great time this weekend at Express helping all these adorable men find outfits for their girlfriends/wives.

I think men shopping for clothes for their girls is the most ADORABLE thing!

They walk into my section and just stand there, looking puzzled. I smile and greet them.

“Hi, how are you? Looking for that perfect holiday outfit?”
“Yeah, uh, I’m looking for something for my girl. I don’t know what to get but I know she likes this store.”

“Great, I’m sure we can come up with something spectacular. First tell me a little about her. Like, what size does she wear?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” the tall Hispanic gentleman says under his breath. He’s embarrassed.I twirl around showcasing my bright yellow sleeveless top with the strategically placed keyhole, bright pink form fitting pants and multicolored scarf.

“Is she my size?”

He looks at my body, then looks away. I can see the red starting to creep up into his face.”Yeah, she’s..she’s your size. But I think she’s a little shorter.”

“Good, then she’s a size 6. Were you thinking of a dress or a pants set?””Um, I want some jeans.”

“Ok, I’ll show you the different colors we have and you can decide which blue is best.”

“Yeah, but it doesnt really matter as long as it fits.”

“Ok, heres a great pair. They’re dark but they’re faded at the thighs and hips, I LOVE these!”

“Yeah, those are nice,” he says and motions for his friend to come over. “You think this is good?” He asks his friend.”I don’t know dawg. That’s your girl,” his friend responds and returns to flirt with my Panamanian co-worker.

“Let’s find a top,” I say. “Is she into prints or does she like plain tops?”

“She likes whatever. She’s really cutesy.”

“Ok, do you think this is something she’d like?” I ask while holding up a powder blue short sleeved top with an attached sash that doubles as a belt.

He eyes the top and smiles. “Yeah, she’ll really like this.”

“Medium?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I think she may be a large. Let me show you a picture of her.”

He takes out his cell phone and goes through his pictures. “Here she is,” he says and holds the phone up for me to see.”

I take a look.”She’s cuute!” I squeal. “But uh, let me tell you something about women. It’ll be a bad idea for you to go home with a large top. Always go for the smaller size, it’ll make her feel better, even if she has to exchange it.”

He laughs. “You’re right…I was thinking the same thing. Thanks so much for your help.”

“My pleasure,” I smile and tell him my name.

An older gentleman approaches me. “My niece is over there. She needs your help.”

“Hey how are you? May I help you find the perfect holiday outfit?”

“Yeah cuz I have to go to a party and my Mom is always telling me to wear more skirts and stuff cuz I don’t have any so I have to get a skirt or a dress today, but nothing too flowery or prissy, I’m not into that.”

“Ohh, so you’re an outdoors type girl. Well, I have just the thing…”

This is so much fun. My first time in retail, too. Too bad it doesn’t pay more.

Random Chatter

c316: hello lady
ptygrneyez: hey PEACHES!!!!
ptygrneyez: what u up to?
c316: i’m actually working on the site (our old website is almost ready to reopen!!!)
ptygrneyez: yippee!
c316: yes. i’m trying to fix the forums
ptygrneyez: lol
c316: i’ve backed up of course!
ptygrneyez: crazy
c316: what are you doing?
ptygrneyez: girl im searching for God’s healing light
c316: wow. that was deep.
ptygrneyez: u know how i am
c316: yeah, you have to warn a sister
ptygrneyez: but i dont think ill find it online
c316: maybe not
c316: especially if that’s in place of doing something better
ptygrneyez: i learn daily and today i learned that
ptygrneyez: my path to inner peace is my own
ptygrneyez: and no one else’s method
ptygrneyez: will get me there
c316: that seems to be true
c316: i get confused with the “my own” part
ptygrneyez: lol
ptygrneyez: wouldnt it be so much easier if it were on a map
ptygrneyez: FIND INNER PEACE—> here
c316: uh hmm
c316: i guess you have to define what inner peace is somehow
ptygrneyez: we’re having a DEEP convo, dont feel like u HAVE to indulge me my mind is all over the place tonight…as usual
ptygrneyez: lol
c316: nah, i’ll let you know when my head hurts
ptygrneyez: lol
ptygrneyez: ok
ptygrneyez: for me inner peace is having that joy that only comes from being in right standing with God
c316: aha
c316: wow. that’s the kind of peace that no one can mess with
c316: yeah, it’s not on google maps
ptygrneyez: lol
c316: you should write this kind of stuff down instead of wasting it on me!
ptygrneyez: lol i am

Maximum Volume

I realized yesterday that I’m friends with one of them.

Yes, my friend Tamara is a debator. I’ve written about them before. They have different views about issues and they strive to convince you to see their point or change your opinion. While I don’t think Tamara has malicious intent, it is kinda blah to have to defend every feeling you have.

I don’t really like to debate with anyone because strong opinions are based on personal experience and no matter how significant HER personal experience is, it’s not personal to me. At the end of the conversation I still walk away with my own experience and my own attitude about it. You can’t convince someone of the beauty of the love God, they have to experience it for themselves. You can’t debate someone about their emotions or attitudes, their past has shaped how they view the world and even if you think their view may be irrational, all you can do is hope for different experiences to change their opinion.

The conversation started when I told her that Sylvia has a boyfriend now. I know! I’m soo happy for her! ALL of my friends, including Sylvia have been driving me CRAZY with the desire to be married and have a family. I don’t think that’s such a bad thing to hope for, but honestly it began to annoy me after a while because I have other hopes for myself.

But my girl Sylvia, she’s so cute, she would whine, “All I want is ONE GUY to be sweet to and to have his babies and have a family. I’m loyal. I’m smart. Why can’t these guys just not cheat and be decent to me?”

It would hurt my heart to hear her say this because she’s right, but it would also re-inforce my dislike for men. A couple of months ago Sylvia met a guy. According to her, he’s amazing. She says he’s handsome, tall (6’3″) and he is so nice to her. A discussion of future goals and attitudes shows that they want the same things. He has already ASKED HER to be his girlfriend and plans for a future together. To add even more magic to the equation, her bestfriend recommended him and everyone she knows says that he is a good man. The best thing about him is, he has a stable father in his life who is dedicated to his family.

But her sudden leap of faith made me raise my eyebrow. Uh, two months ago you swore off men forever and now you’re falling in love? I’m not trying to draw her into my man-hating club, but I don’t understand why she even gave this dude a chance when she’s had so many bad experiences with men.

I tried to explain this to Tamara but she wasn’t hearing me. I’m not worried about Sylvia getting hurt at all, she knows when to walk away from a bad situation. I just don’t get how her attitude could change about men so quickly. What did this man do that made her see him differently? He is a MAN! I would never have given him a moment of my time. But she did, and surprisingly it paid off. It all seems so unreal to me.

I mean, wow. Think about it. The VERY thing you desire actually comes to pass. It seems like we hope for things but we don’t believe they will ever happen.

While most women my age are hoping for families, I already have one so my focus is now on using these gifts that God gave me, for his glory. The beautiful thing is, I know it will come to pass. I don’t have to hope for it. My desires line up with God’s word and one day it will come to fruition.

What’s funny is, I received this email the other day from a reader and old friend of mine:

“Often I ask myself why I love you, and I’ve concluded that you have to be extrodinarally crazy and a bit off the rocker to be like you. But no one is, just you and thats why I got so much undying love for ya.”

Ok, this is a compliment.

I know it is because of the rest of the letter but it made me think long and hard about myself. I guess I am a bit different, maybe even crazy. I remember my friend Anna suggested I go get myself checked out because of the intensity of my emotions and my wavering attitudes.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s okay to be so DEEP about everything. Damn, it wears me out sometimes. I cry with the force of a thunderstorm. I laugh like a toddler watching their first cartoon. I experience joy over little things and each time it’s as if I’m having my first orgasm. I love so deeply and so thoroughly that even when you walk away my love never dies. For me, everything is experienced on maximum volume.

I used to try to tone it down. I used to try to hide it. But now all I can do is celebrate the woman that is me. Because even is she thinks I’m weird, or he can’t handle my moods, THEY can and they love me because of everything that is me.

I don’t write to entertain or influence anyone. I don’t write to gain friends or foes. I write because my heart tells me to. I write because I love my growth process. I write because these stories in my head won’t go away until I put them out there. They scream to be told, competing with each other until I release them under my smooth fingertips.

~sigh~

Man, I really love to write.