My Personal Blog from 2003 to 2011
My Cutie Pie
My 3 year old son walked into my room this morning whispering, “Goodmorning Mama.”
I picked him up and swung him around. I placed him on my bed and started kissing his belly.
“Mama…”
“Hmm?”
“It’s stank in here Mama.”
“What you said?”
“It’s stank in here.”
I laugh. “What does it smell like?”
He pauses and sniffs again.
“Chinese rice.”
I fell out laughing.
Eva and Me
I receive lots of compliments on my looks, but really, I know people notice me mainly because of my electric green eyes.
But lately, I’ve been walking on air after receiving the BEST compliments ever!
All my life I have never heard, “Hey, you look just like (insert celebrity here).” I don’t look like anyone. And no one looks like me. I often wondered why. Until this year, when a certain top model emerged onto the scene.
Eva The Diva
People tell me I look like her. ~raises eyebrows~
Why ya’ll lieing?!!!
There ain’t no way I look like a SUPERMODEL! Duh!
Peep the differences:
Her Hair: Eva has soft curly hair that she styles in the most funky manner and is oh so chic.
My Hair: I go to the barber shop with my sons and we walk out looking like triplets.
Her skin tone: Eva is a coffee with creme kinda chick. Very smooth.
My skin tone: I’m about the same color as Michael Ealy. We both need some sun.
Her eyes: Dazzling with a brownish undertone
My eyes: Green
Her smile: Straight, natural and even.
My smile: I have more gums than teeth. If I don’t close my mouth carefully, I’ll bite my chin.
Her height: 5’7″
My height: 5’1″
Her credits: Covergirl, Cover of King & Essence
My credits: Um, um- biting lip- I cook great steaks.
Her Personality: bubbly, cool, sparkly
My personality: About the same if you catch me when I haven’t been drinking
So now you have it, me and EVA the DIVA don’t have much in common besides having funny colored eyes and sparkling personalities.
Yet and still I LOVE EVA and it is the best thing to even be mentioned in the same sentence as she is. I’m still floating off of this weekend because in the ONE NIGHT I spent on South Beach I heard:
“Excuse me, I just want to let you know that you hair cut is very nice. You look better than Eva.”
Me: Giggle, giggle. blush, cheese!
“You know what, you remind me of Eva the Diva.”
Me: Giggle, giggle. blush, cheese!
“Have you seen Eva on the cover of King magazine? That could be you. You really got it like that.”
Me: ~thinking~ If one more person says that I am going to die on the spot. I am sooo happy! Yay!
After all these years I am finally compared to a celebrity and it is someone that I admire very much. This makes me feel so great inside. I bubble with joy at the thought.
I’ve never thought I was ugly, but every so often I look in the mirror and only see my imperfections. But it’s so nice to know that when all those imperfections come together, they make up one helluva woman!
I am comfortable in my skin.
I am just right.
Blogshares?
Can anyone tell me what THIS is all about?
Everyone’s blog is listed here and has some sort of dollar value associated with it, with Brutha Code’s being the most valuable. Who signed me up for this? LOL!
I don’t get it.
Tight Work
My girl Sylvia called me this afternoon, as usual in an over-excited mood. This time she was pissed off because one of her co-workers had dropped a dime that she was ‘probably’ gonna be asked to do some housekeeping office work, which Sylvia and her co-workers call, “bitch work”.
I laughed because the “bitch work” in question was one of my regular tasks. LOL!
“Well, I’m not anybody’s assistant,” Sylvia explained. “I shouldn’t have to do stuff like that. It’s not in my job description.”
True.
When we hung up I began to think about my job. I’m basically everyone’s assistant. I love my job. I love to help. When someone needs a back-up person I am delighted to do the little things to make their projects easier. I have a servant’s heart and I like that about myself.
Yeah, it doesn’t feel glamorous when I have to make all the name tags for our events, then stand there and pass them out at parties while everyone else is mingling. It doesn’t make me feel so great when everyone else is on vacation and I have to take my vacation time last because I have to make sure that I’m there to cover for everyone else in my department. I’m the low man on the totem pole. I’m the last chick out the door. I’m the office “bitch” cuz all the tasks no one else wants to do are given to me.
But I don’t mind. I feel like I’m learning from the inside out. I’m that chick who will be able to step into any open position because I am always eager to learn, always observant and always willing to serve.
Every season of your life is not about being on top. I know myself and I will advance. I am secure in that to the point where I focus on learning as much as I can so that when my time comes, I will be able to run things smoothly.
I’m not a bitch, I’m not a doormat, I’m not a scrub. I just understand the order of things and no great leader started out that way. In order to lead you must learn to follow. In order to give orders you must learn to take them. I am the type of employee that I would want if I was my boss.
And I try to be the same kind of friend that I want my friends to be to me.
It doesn’t always work out that way, sometimes I mess up. But shit, what can I do, but tighten up and keep struttin…
Come on Baby, Light My Fire
For your listening pleasure…
I haven’t been sleeping well lately.
It seems all night I fight with my covers and my thoughts. It’s cold. It’s hot. Stop thinking. You can’t do anything about that. But what if… what if….
And I settle down, covers barely covering my feet. My nightie barely covering my goodies. My head resting on my folded arm, a pillow clutched between my legs. I’m so tense. I just wish. I’m wishing you…you…would come through.
I call you and you don’t miss a beat. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
Just enough time for me to shower, put on a little lip gloss and some body spray and a pair of small stud earrings. I don’t wanna look like I prepared too much, but a little something something never hurt.
You arrive looking even more fly than I remember. You’ve been gone since November and honestly I haven’t really thought much about you. But as soon as you step through my door, I remember. I remember what made me want you in the beginning. That smile, that charm, that sweet spirit. You were always one of my biggest cheerleaders. Even when I began to feel ordinary, you faithfully reminded me that I was a rising star.
We sit. We chat. We sip on the wine coolers you brought me.
You’re tall. I’m short. You laugh. I stop. And turn to look at you. I bite my lip. You grin at me and pull me close. I’m wondering if, maybe this will be the time. Will you be the one to light my fire?
I know I said I don’t give second chances. And the reason you hadn’t seen me in months was because, well, you remember how you messed up. But I won’t bring that up. Like the King who granted Esther her wish, I give you a reprieve. What will you do with it?
I giggle as I feel fingertips brush my neck. They dance along my spine. The tension in my body is overwhelming. I hold my breath, wondering if you can tell, although I’m sexy as hell, I don’t get it often. Maybe four times a year, if I’m lucky. Yeah I’m picky. So in order to get me going, it’s gonna take a minute.
A couple of kisses on my neck. I feel a tingle. A hand on my breast. Yeah, I’m warming up. A pop kiss and it’s so quick, I feel like I just kissed my son.
What the hell?
Is that your hand I see, illuminated by the light of the TV, reaching oh so slowly, into your pocket, how can I stop this? No you ain’t about to pull out that magnum.
Is this all I get?
I shake my head at you and frown. You smile and lie me down. I’m frustrated as hell, and like Halle my insides are screaming, “MAKE ME FEEL GOOD!” You poke, you prod. You push. You bang. But ultimately you can’t. You can’t move this train.
It’s over and I just want you to leave. “Damn that was good baby.” you say.
SHIIIT!
I’m left feeling as tense as I was when I called you. No wonder my hook-ups almost always turn into one night stands. No man has ever laid down some proper hands.
Honestly I can’t imagine a man who understands that there is more to lovemaking than puttin it in. My body is wound up so tightly, that nightly I have to make myself shiver just to feel a little release cuz any homeboy I call can’t give it to me.
Forget 12 Play, how about some 4 Play? Make me want you. Make me beg. Have me squirming before we even get to the bed. Notice my fingers. Notice my toes. Help me find my—–sweet spot.
See this skin. Feel how smooth. A little over 5 feet of unexplored territory. Come on Columbus, let’s make history.
Oh…I see. I guess not.
Maybe I’m just dreaming. I fantasize a lot. But something tells me there’s more. There should be much more.
~sigh~
I really, really hope there’s more.
Home with the flu
Here we go again.
The thermostat says 75, but my body is in conflict. I’m freezing cold, even though I’m wearing an old oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants. Simultaneously I’m hot. I’m buried in my blanket, yet I want to kick it away. I’m sweating and my entire body feels like I just got hit by a fire truck.
My throat hurts. My head hurts. My heart hurts. I wanna cry. I think I have the flu.
I hate being sick, number one, because I feel so guilty about using my sick time for myself. I mean, what happens when my boys get sick? I need to keep all the sick time saved up for that. But at 3am, when I know that I should be sleeping and I’m wide awake and feeling nauseaus, I know that I will have to miss work the next day.
I manage to get up by 6:30 am. I feel dizzy. My breath is short. I take a quick puff of my inhaler to open me up a bit. It works. I walk into the kitchen with only one eye open. Reach up into the cabinet and pull down the instant oatmeal. Take out two bowls and open the packets. Pour the packets into the bowls and add some milk. Stir and stick in the microwave for about 35 seconds. Stir again. Put the bowls on the kiddie table and add two glasses of milk.
“Wake up boys!” I say and push their little legs. They don’t budge.
I’m getting frustrated because I want to go back to sleep too. And I feel like a zombie. They better get up!
“Get up!” I say again. They open their eyes and smile.
“What day is it Mama?” My 4 year old asks. “Is it August 8th?”
“Yep, it’s August 8th baby. You’re going to Elementary School today.”
“YAY!” he squeals.
My baby is starting kindergarten today.
They sit down to eat while I dress myself. I don’t have the strength to get too cute. Just a little eyeshadow and eyeliner. A simple black dress and heels. I feel like I’ll fall over at any moment, but I can’t miss this big day.
After I dress myself I call them into my room and dress them. My 3 year old doesn’t want to wear the new shoes his Daddy bought him. He prefers his Star Wars shoes. Funny how my 3 year old hates wearing ANY new shoes.
But not my 4 year old. He is prancing around in his new school clothes. “These are my cool clothes!” he announces.
Yeah, I agree as I check him out. From the size of his polo shirt, to the khaki shorts to his brown shoes, his Daddy really did a good job picking out his clothes. I’m not surprised. His Daddy has a nice little style and I’m sure it’s his honor to dress up his little men.
“May we drink Capri Suns in the car?” my 4 year old asks.
“Sure.”
I drop my 3 year old off at his school in the City (inner city) and drive back up to my neighborhood where my son will be attending elementary school. On the way I call their Dad.
“This is *baby daddy*”
“This is Ms. Tee. Where are you?”
“I’m almost at the school. Where are you?”
“I’m still in the City. I’ll be there in a minute.”
By the time I found a parking spot and walked to the school, Baby Daddy was there waiting for his son.
My son saw him and ran to him, hugging his leg. His Daddy smiled and whipped out his camera to take pictures. I laughed. After he was done, we all walked around the school and got lost, looking for the classroom. We finally found it and knocked on the door.
My Sugarbear walked right in like it wasn’t nothing. I introduced myself to his teacher and showed my baby his little name tag. Baby Daddy took more pictures as my sons got settled. I laughed because I could tell he was a proud Papa and it was so cute.
I blew a kiss to my baby and we left. It was kinda weird, walking with him when we don’t have a relationship, so I just said, “I’ll see you later” and went in the opposite direction to my car.
As I walked to my car I allowed my thoughts to drift. Damn this man. We were both looking very nice that morning. We looked like a little family. Why couldn’t my son have BOTH his parents? I sighed and let it ride. I don’t have any emotions for him, but sometimes I wonder what the hell he was thinking when he walked away from me. Ok, I’m a bit MUCH at times, but damn. Oh well. Such is life.
I then drove to the grocery store on my last wind. I had fought so hard while I was at the school to stand up straight and look presentable although I really wanted to pass out. I felt like death. I felt like crap. But I needed to get some food in the house. I shopped a bit and came home. Ate a bit and got into my bed.
Anna returned my call because her daughter had started kindergarten that morning as well so we shared our stories. When I told her about meeting Baby Daddy at the school and how he took pictures she gushed. “Ohhhh. I wish I had a Baby Daddy that cared. Damn girl. I just wanna be cool with my Baby Daddy. Everybody called to check on her first day. Even YOU called. But did I hear from him? No. Did he even bring a sock or a notebook for her? No.”
Yeah, I’ll admit, as much as my Baby Daddy is an idiot to me and tries to make me feel like scum whenever he gets a chance, he does love his sons. And sometimes his attempts to control me backfires on him and ultimately causes him to hurt his boys- I know that he doesn’t mean for that to happen.
He is so proud of them. He loves them so much. He thinks they are so handsome and he should, cuz they ARE- thanks to ME! I don’t know why, but I can’t hate this man. If there’s anyone I should hate, it should be him, but I can’t and I don’t know why.
Anna can understand that cuz she just broke up with her boyfriend. “Girl, it’s so crazy,” she says. “Cuz I know that he’s not much to go back to yet, I still miss him.”
“You and these thugs!” I tease her. “I know how to find you a new man. All I have to do is find the first nicca sitting on the corner on a crate!”
“HELL YEAH!” she laughs. “It’s Tupac’s fault. Ever since I heard that song Thug Passion, I been ON EM!”
“You dumb!”
“Naw, it’s Tupac and my Mama fault. My Mama used to tell me that I couldn’t bring a man with dreads home. As soon as she said that I was out to prove that she shouldn’t judge a person based on his outer appearance. So everytime I meet someone like that, I try to get to know them and I always find out there’s more to them than dreads and golds. She’s not open like that.”
“Ughh.. Not me dawg. Never that! Hanging on street corners. Hell naw. No job. You get no play.”
“Yeah, tell that to one of them and watch what he’ll say.” she said and started to immitate a thug in a rough voice, “No bitch I ain’t got no job, but this DICK work!”
I laughed so hard! “You crazy!”
“Then maybe you won’t be writing no poetry talkin bout how no man has ever handled you. Them thugs be laying it DOWN! You gotta try it!”
Whatever….
~raises eyebrow~
Theraflu is the SHIZNIT!
Ahhhhh….I feel so much better.
While I was on my deathbed, I wondered if I would ever make it through. Sweating like a fat man at his first aerobics class while simultaneously shivering like I was trapped butt booty naked in the meat department would make you wanna get right with God too.
But then, the clouds parted and the sun came out, well, uh, that is, my little sister showed up with some THERAFLU! I had no idea how powerful this stuff was. But I think they should change the name to God’s Miracle powder. I warmed that water up in the microwave and stirred the powder in and I PROMISE, after the FIRST SIP, I felt better. By the time I finished the entire cup I was crying. Cuz I didn’t think I was gonna make it ya’ll. And I just knew I had so many more stories to blog about. So many more parties to attend. I wanted to see my boys grow up and now, because God loves me, I will. Thank you Lord! Sincerely…
You don’t even wanna know what I was just doing. I just spent 30 minutes filling out parental forms for my son’s school. Right in the middle of signing my name for the hundredth time on the line that says; PARENT SIGNATURE; I froze.
Damn. I’m the Mama.
Not the MAMA! Not the MAMA!
Yes I am.
I have to give this boy lunch money everyday.
I have to pick him up from aftercare.
I have to go to conferences with his teachers.
And you BETTA BELIEVE come time for that P.T.A., I’m gonna be all up in that mutha! ~Get it Mama!~snap, snap~ Bake sales. ~snap, snap~Community Enhancement. ~snap, snap~ Dances ~snap, snap~ I’m ready!!!
~smirking~ I’m the Mama.
This morning I took him and his brother to his school for breakfast. The aftercare lady told me about it.
“Is Breakfast free?”
“Yes it is.”
“What time does it end?”
“I think it ends at 8:15.”
“So I just take him to the cafeteria. And then when he’s done what do I do?”
“He’ll walk to the basketball courts to line up with his class.”
“But how will he get there?”
~hiding a laugh~ “He’ll walk ma’am.”
“By himself?” I was shocked.
“Well, there will be other kids going to. And security guards will be there to direct him.”
“But that’ll mean he’ll be standing out there on the basketball courts with ALL THEM other kids, by himself?”
“He’ll be alright.”
~shaking head~ “I don’t know about this.”
“He’ll be alright.”
So this morning the three of us, me, my baby and his baby brother, all walked into the school cafeteria for his first public school breakfast. There was hardly no line at all. We walked up to the lunch(man) and my son grabbed a chocolate milk (remember those?) and asked for some scrambled eggs (yuck!) and a biscuit. He then asked for a juice and that’s it.
He carefully balanced his little tray until we found a seat. He smiled and picked up his eggs with his fingers. I raised my eyebrow and hissed, “You betta not embarrass me boy! Use that spoon!” He carefully ate every drop of food on his plate and finished his chocolate milk with a loud slurp. His lil brother climbed onto my lap, “I’m hungry too Mama.” Aww.. Next time, I’m just gonna go ahead and fix him a plate too. Shoot, breakfast is FREE all across Dade County this year.
When he was all done, we walked over to the garbage and I told him to throw the tray in. He did and smiled. “Now what Mama?”
“Well, now you go and sit with the other kids in kindergarten. It’s too wet to go outside. So you have to sit here until they call your teacher’s name. And when they do, just go to where they tell you and you will see her. Do you remember her name?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now sit right here and be a good boy. Listen to the man. When he calls your teacher’s name, go line up where he tells you too.”
A parent nearby touches my arm. She looks like she is about my age. Light skinned with short golden hair. “Hey. Your son is in my baby’s class. I’m gonna wait with my lil girl until their teacher comes. I’ll make sure he gets there.”
I smiled and thanked her, said hi to her lil cute daughter and told Sai to listen to the lady. I then left and took my 3 year old to his school in the City.
By the time I got to work I was feeling like I hadn’t been there in ages. Two days off and I was a little jittery. Well, I was mainly jittery because I am so strict about being the perfect employee and I knew missing two days was not a good idea, but DAMMIT I was sick! Give yourself a break girl. To add to my paranoia, the night before I had a dream that when I got back to work there was a long line of contestants auditioning to take my job!
I love my job! I don’t wanna lose it.
But I walked in and everyone asked if I was feeling better. I was feeling a lot better but not COMPLETELY, but I was grateful to be at 80%. I went to work doing my daily tasks and laughing and getting used to being back again.
~sigh~ I love my job. Our department is always going the extra mile to make our parents and faculty feel special. Check out our newly decorated faculty lounge. Isn’t it beautiful?
And ofcourse when the students and staff start back next week, our department is giving them all welcome back gifts in their mailboxes. And all week this week, the school is having catered lunches for all faculty and staff- for FREE!
I can not believe this place!
We take care of each other. It’s unbelieveable.
And I am so grateful.
Anyway, I gotta go shower. A guy is being really nice to me and tonight I have decided to be nice back. I’m going to give him a call. To talk. Nicely. Without any mean or sarcastic remarks. I am going to be pleasant. You know why? He deserves it.
Gone Exploring…
Every woman needs a little “ME” time.
It’s my turn.
Be back soon…
Ms. Tee
Black Faces
My eyes rolled back in delight when I walked through my front door.
Thank GOD! My power was back on!
~dancing~ A/C! Get on up!!!
After two disgusting nights of sleeping in the heat, making peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches and trying to come up with creative games to entertain my sons, I almost cried when I felt the cool breeze of the central airconditioning.
“YAY!” My sons squealed. “We have power Mama?”
“We sure do.”
Yeah, Hurricane Katrina had gotten us. She smacked us something nice. Most people in Miami were NOT prepared. I mean, sad to say but we’re so USED to hurricanes coming through. Unless it’s a category 5, we really don’t pay much attention.
So when my little sister called me at work on Wednesday, August 24th, and said “Girl, my boss just came in and told us to go home and get ready for the hurricane.” I responded quickly, “What hurricane?” It was very confusing because outside we would find perfect Miami weather, clear skies and low humidity.
On Thursday night we watched the weather change. Dark clouds and gloom replaced the picturesque skies. The thunder and lightening scared my boys and knocked me offline so we all decided to camp out in their room. I took the TV from the kitchen, (The kitchen TV is the only one with a VHS player) and we all snuggled up on the floor to watch Forrest Gump.
Just minutes into the movie, the TV went black. I would not have power again until Saturday evening when my sons and I returned from spending the day cooling off at my cousin’s house.
My power was finally on and the FIRST thing I did was log on. Ahhh…I exhaled as my fingertips caressed my keyboard. I needed that fix. I didn’t chat. I didn’t write. I immediately got back up and packed my boys in the car to go see my Mama. I wanted to bring her to my house. Her phone and power was out so there was no way to contact her. The street lights were all out. The traffic was crazy, but we made it to her neighborhood safely, but she didn’t want to leave her dog in the hot house alone so she stayed there.
The next day we went for a drive in search of food. Most of the stores were still closed. The traffic lights were still out and we were HUNGRY. More peanut butter and jelly for us, I guess.
But even though we had lost power, even though we were kinda hungry, at least we were returning to some sense of normalcy.
On Sunday night I was so excited to watch the VMA’s. I called up my girl Tamara in Tallahassee and she called Tonya and the three of us watched the show over the phone. While we laughed at R. Kelly and made fun of TI lil midget self, Tamara suddenly stopped us and made a request.
“Hey ya’ll,” she said. “We need to pray for New Orleans.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Cuz Katrina is about to hit there and we don’t want that to happen.”
I shrugged.
“OK Prince.”
“No, pray right now.”
I paused. I didn’t understand why she was so adamant about it. I mean, Katrina had just come through Miami and we were okay. I prayed anyway. I prayed for the safety of the people in New Orleans.
And then we hung up.
I had no idea that while I slept America would be jarred to life by a resounding wake up call. I had no idea, that just a few hours later, all across the globe men and women would MOAN for the people of Mississippi and Louisiana. I didn’t know.
On Monday evening I took my boys to my Mama’s house after work. She was in the room watching the news. As I always do, I sat on the bed, grabbed a Black from the dresser and lit up. I only smoke when I visit my Mama. We puff and chat together.
But this time, my Black went out much faster than usual. I had not heard anything about what had happened in New Orleans, but the television broadcast images that I was not ready to see. Wait…Wait a minute. Why is there so much water? Why are there people on rooftops? What’s happening? I was confused.
My little sister explained that New Orleans was like a bowl, and that the hurricane had broken one of the barriers that kept the ocean from pouring water into the city. WHOA! For real? I didn’t know that. I didn’t know.
There they were. Black faces. Brown faces. Expressionless. Sitting on floating furnitire. On roof tops. Sardined on the expressways. They were crying. They were dieing. They were scared. They were mad. They were waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Now I don’t know about ya’ll but I am a woman with a great deal of compassion and I could FEEL their pain so much that my eyes leaked. The thing that hurts me the most is the fact that I can not do anything to save them. I feel so powerless.
Imagine not having the means to leave a city about to be hit by a hurricane. Imagine coming out alive but having everything you ever owned destroyed. Imagine finally finding a dry spot to rest and waiting for someone, somewhere to help. “They’re coming,” you tell yourself. “They’ll help.”
Whoever “they” is, never show up.
Imagine as the night breaks and then daylight and then night again. Where are “they”? When will “they” get here?
Silence.
Only the whir of helicopters as television crews document your tears and frustration.
GET THAT MICROPHONE OUT OF MY FACE! GIVE ME A DAMN SANDWHICH! WE NEED HELP!
It would be easy to sit back and criticize and play the blame game but what will prove to be more difficult would be having the courage to start over.
Lookin back, we came here with nothing. We were stripped of our language, our culture, our self respect. We were conditioned to believe that we were sub human, that our lives didn’t even matter. But we survived. We were forced to depend on “them” to take care of our needs and “they” did, in THEIR timing and WHEN it benefitted THEM. And we act shocked when history repeats itself.
Yes, that was a noticeable time in the history books but it wasn’t the final chapter.
Through the whipping and the lynchings
Through the degrading conditioning of our minds
Through the consistent rape of hope and faith
We always managed to survive
Someone flinched when they removed the shackles
Someone trembled in the night
Someone loaded up their napsack
Someone followed a shining light
Though the road may be unstable
Though we fumble, fuss and fight
Though the elements seek to overcome us
We have faith it’ll be alright
Who else can take this madness
Who can fall and rise again
Who can be the mother of all the earth
Yet spit upon by men
As we mold our lives from nothing
Apologizing for our skin
My Black friend
It’s deep within
This thing within
Does not allow us to STOP
We
Will
Not
Die
…
We will survive
PS- God Bless.
My Love Affair With Kanye West
The first time I experienced him was when I saw the All Falls Down video with Stacey Dash. I thought to myself, “Hmm… This is a slice of life not generally discussed in pop music. Nice. Who is this guy? He’s different.”
Our next encounter had me in tears. I was in my car looking for a church that I was supposed to visit but I had bad directions and I was frustrated. I gave up and started toward my house. I turned the radio back up and heard, Jesus Walks. At the end of the song, he gave an call to the lost. He prayed the prayer of salvation. ON THE RADIO. Over MILLIONS OF LIVES. I was shook. “God is sooo good!” I thought to myself. “They have no idea what they are hearing but a seed has been planted.” I cried.
Since I don’t really watch a lot of music television and I don’t buy CD’s (I have a million other things to do with my money) I didn’t follow his career. I heard little snippets here and there about him being arrogant and laughed as people called him a Diva.
The Golddigger song Kanye made was hot! Period. Anyone who listens to it has to give him props. He’s not a bandwagon lyricist. He’s doing things that no one has done before. I think I feel the spirit of Tupac when I listen to him. His social commentary laced over magnetic tracks FORCE us to listen to what he has to say. He has a powerful voice, I hope he recognizes that power and is responsible with it.
Then I saw the interview on MTV. I think I fell in love that day. He spoke about being teased when he was younger because he had feminine characteristics and how the opposite of hip hop is gay. He challenged us all. He spoke about how he felt like Jay Z and Damon Dash were his parents and when they split he had to choose, which ultimately hurt his relationship with Damon. It was a difficult question to answer but he did it. With honesty and humility. He seems to have this openness, this honesty that is unmatched in my opinion. He’s HOT because he’s honest. And he doesn’t care about being cool. He recognizes issues and speaks on them, regardless of how it will make him look.
Damn. That’s sexy.
There is nothing like meeting a man who doesn’t follow the crowd. I am NOT a trendy person. I never have been. You get a group pf people walking in one direction and I won’t go simply because I am NOT a crowd follower like that. I’ll go the other way, then we can swap stories on how things worked out.
Can you say, “Kanye is so sexy to me.” ~sigh~ The fact that he is kinda weird looking makes him even more attractive. I love the nerdy guys.
Then, our love was sealed during the VMA awards. He is sooo funny looking. And that is soooo adorable to me. When I saw him I felt this desire well up inside of me.
I’m on the phone with Tamara and Tonya and I announce, “I’d like to *censored*.”
Silence.
“Shut up Tee.”
“No, for real. He deserves it. He is so different. I feel a connection.”
But after Friday evening, this world will never be the same. Kanye West remarked LIVE on television that “George Bush doesn’t care about Black people.” (click to view Kanye’s rant)
My face looked just like Chris Tucker’s.
Kanye’s speech mirrored the hearts of Black America. His emotional rant pulled at our heart strings and caused us to feel like SOMEONE understood us. Blacks complain to each other and in our communties but we don’t really feel like anyone is listening. THIS TIME, America heard us. And who’d have thought that Kanye West would be our voice.
I love him.