Spending Time On the Chat Line

My life is a miracle.

Guess what I did last night? He..hee..

Kim kept me on the phone so late that by the time her boyfriend got to her house, I couldn’t go to sleep.

So I turned on the TV and watched the commercials when I saw an ad for a local singles chat line. Hmm…Why not? It’s free.

I called up the chat line and made an ad.

“Hi, I’m [insert fake name here] I’m 21 and I’m hoping to make a friend. Will you be my friend tonight?”

Man…I was bombarded with messages from men who wanted to talk to me. Through the chat line you don’t have to give anyone your phone number, you talk through the system. I had a few conversations, one of which really stood out to me.

I met this man, I can’t remember his name though. He told me that he just came back from Iraq and will return there in 2010.

“So you mean you were fighting over there?” I asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Did you kill anyone?”

“Yes. Three people.”

“YOU KILLED SOMEONE?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what the military ingrained in your mind to make you want to kill someone when there’s no real war to be fought.”

“You have to understand that over there, every household is armed. They don’t want us there. They have suicide bombers everywhere. Little hids, women. Everyone is a suspect.”

“Well, how was it having to transition back to civilian life?”

“It was hard at first. It’s like, everywhere you go, you’re paranoid. You’re always looking over your shoulder. But I’m better now.”

“What are you doing with yourself now?”

“I’m in school working on a criminal justice degree and I’ve applied to the police academy.”

“Oh, that’s cool. You’re going to be a police officer. But why are you going back in 2010?”

“I’m still under contract.”

“But what if the war is over when by the time you have to go back?”

“It won’t be. Even when the new president is sworn in, they won’t take office until January and then if they decide to stop the war, the order has to go through Congress and all that. It’s not ending anytime soon.”

Although most of the people on there are looking for quick hits and I’m not interested in anything like that, it seems like some of the men on there are really looking for companionship, or at least they say they are.

I don’t take it seriously but I do see it as a viable way to meet someone. I’m not really interested in dating anyone or hooking up but it would be nice to have a new friend to call and have conversation with sometimes.

I may do it again tonight. ~shrugs~

Any suggestions for a new fake name?

Prepping for V-Day With My Friends

My life is a miracle.

And apparently so are the lives of my friends. Let me give some updates.

Anna is still in Orlando. We spoke yesterday about her marriage and how it’s going for her. She had some challenges in the beginning but she told me that she had to change her expectations and now everything is fine.

“Yeah girl,” she said. “In the beginning I had all of these ideas of how a man was supposed to be in a marriage. I expected him to KNOW what to do and I was dissappointed when he wouldn’t just do it by himself. Now I…I ask him for what I want and he does it. It takes away a lot of pressure, but I realize that men don’t know what to do, sometimes you have to tell them. He even got me a new cell phone as an early Valentines Day gift. I didn’t have to tell him to do that, so he’s learning.”

Tamara called me this evening just as I finished meeting with my Professor about my Sex Therapy project. I sat down on a bench while I waited for my class to start.

“Tee! [Pretty Ricky] is coming tomorrow and I KNOW he’s going to get me something for Valentines Day, that’s just how he is. But he spoils me and is always doing stuff for me and I want to surprise him by giving him a really good gift BEFORE he gives me a gift. What should I get him?”

“Damn, Prince. You’re the 3rd person that has asked me what I think they should get for their man. Hello! I don’t have a man! I don’t know!”

“Come on Tee! You don’t have a man but you’re creative! You have ideas! Come on! He’s coming into town before I get off work so I only have my lunchbreak to run and get him something and I want it to be good.”

I sigh. “Ok, Prince. Let me think. If I had a man and he was good to me like yours is, I’d probably buy him something that he can always wear. Something that reminds him of me. A piece for his chain or a watch or something.”

“Jewelry!” she exclaimed. “I was thinking about that but I don’t know what to get.”

“Does he have a chain?”

“No, he doesn’t wear one.”

“But wait.” I said. “I don’t know Prince. You guys aren’t even claiming each other yet. Jewelry is a bit much for someone who isn’t even your man. If you do that you’ll have nothing to work up to when he does become your man. For a first Valentines Day gift I’d buy a man I really liked, a shirt…and a cap if he wears stuff like that.”

“Yeah! That’s a good idea. I was thinking about that too. But Tee, he really does a lot for me and we do claim each other. I want him to be like, ‘Wow’ when he sees my gift.”

“Well then jewelry will get you there. Go for a nice chain and if you are ballin like that, a matching bracelet.”

“What about earrings. I think he would like some of those. He has some but the diamonds are so big, they hurt his ears.”

“Hmm…I think that’s a bit much but I will admit, he’ll be blowed. If that’s what you’re going for then do it.”

“Naw…I think I’ll go for the chain because when I see him I want to be like, ‘I got my man shining like that.'”

“Ok, so you’re set?”

“Where do I get it from, Tee?”

“I don’t know! I don’t live in Atlanta.”

“I don’t know either. I don’t really buy men gifts like that.”

“Well, you go ahead and be the first. You learn by trial and error. Besides all of the jewelry stores should have sales going on. They’ll help you.”

So by the time I spoke to Kim, she was yawning and talking about her near death experience when her car hit a pothole and blew her tire on the expressway. She didn’t even know her car had a flat until a light came on inside her car.

“Damn girl! Your car tells you when you have a flat?!”

“Yeah girl. So I pulled over to this gas station about five minutes from my house and got out to see how damaged it was. This man was there and he helped me to patch up my flat and pull it out of the snow.”

“Wow. It’s snowing there?”

“Yeah girl, it IS Chicago.”

“So what are you doing for your man for Valentines Day?” I asked her.

“Girl, I don’t know. I don’t think about all that. Maybe I’ll put some nice flowers in my house and make him dinner. That’s about it.”

“You’re non chalant about it,” I commented. “This is your first Valentines Day together.”

“Yeah but…I never buy gifts for men. I just don’t do that. I only used to spend a lot on my first boyfriend because he used to break me off like $800 jewelry sets and $600 cash for Christmas so I didn’t mind spending money on him because I knew he’d do it for me.”

“Where did you get money like that to buy him big gifts if you were in highschool and you weren’t working?”

“From him, girl,” she replied flippantly. “He always took care of me. But with my boyfriend now, he’s wonderful. I can tell he loves me by the way he takes care of me. He shows it in his actions. But even still, I take it one day at a time because every boyfriend that I’ve ever had treated me like he does and they all wanted to marry me. But guess what? Not ONE of them is in my life today. So yeah, we may be all in love and talking about marriage and stuff but only time will tell. I’m just taking it one day at a time.”

Unbreakable, Unshakeable, Miraculous

My life is a miracle.

I witnessed a surreal transformation in my city late last year. I got lost in South Miami, a part of town I never have a reason to visit.

There’s a hood there, much like the one I grew up in, except it’s filled with Hispanic people. I couldn’t stop blinking my eyes as I drove in circles around the unfamiliar streets. I thought I was dreaming.

The entire neighborhood was filled with delipidated buildings, abandoned cars and random clutter. The cheap clothing worn by mothers hauling multiple kids through the streets sidestepping broken bottles and resting on bus stop benches reminded me of home except, this was nowhere near the home I knew growing up in Liberty City which during my day was one of the roughest neighborhoods in the county.

Sometimes I sit and ask myself, “Why the fuck do I know Spanish? Why the hell is it that sometimes my words come out in another language when I’m a Black person?”

It’s this city.

I think about the history of my city quite often. I think about the history of my people, Black people.

When I look in the mirror I see me but I also see my past. Not the past that I have lived, but the women who came before me. My mother, her mother, her mother’s mother and so forth. We aren’t that far removed from slavery, you know.

I examine my light skin, my tightly coiled hair, my green eyes and my toned physique. I see my Mama with the same skin tone, the same hair, the same eyes, the same legs. I picture her mother, whom I never met. She was beautiful. So beautiful. One of my aunts looks just like her. My grandmother had 11 children. Eleven.

Beyond that, I don’t know.

I don’t know what happened between the time my ancestors were corralled off the slave ship with rich dark skin and high cheekbones and me standing in front of the mirror noticing the high yellow skin tone I now wear. Having worked and ruled our own land, oblivious to the treachery that lay ahead, we were brough here and our entire destiny was changed.

I don’t know when my genes were diluted. I don’t know why I look like this.

I can’t help but notice how bright my skin is, yet I’m a Black woman. I can’t help but cringe everytime you compliment me on my beauty.

“Ooh, your eyes are soo pretty!” you say.

Bitch please! If you could feel the sting of the rape that caused this, would you still consider it beauty?

I think about them all the time, the women who came before me. Regardless of what they had to go through, I’m proud of them. I’m proud of them for surviving. Many didn’t.

I think about my race, my people. We were taught that we were subhuman, that we were property, that we couldn’t learn, that our lives were inconsequential to this world.

Isn’t that a trip? The very people that used us to build their fortune somehow convinced us that we had no contribution to this world.

And we believed them.

They broke us of our culture. They broke us out of our beliefs. They broke up our families. They taught us that we were commodities. They fucked us up mentally and spiritually.

But you know what..regardless of all that, we didn’t shrivel up and die.

We didn’t give up.

Every single Black person alive today is a part of an extraordinary race of overcomers.

If only we could shrug off the self hatred that they taught us, we would awaken to see the strength that allowed us to sustain ourselves. The same strength that allowed us to become the heroes that we are today.

That is my hope.

That is my dream.

I hope that we realize that we are more than survivors, we are more than what they say we are. We are more than what we even think we are. We are human. We are worthy.

We are unbreakable, unshakeable and miraculous.

It’s true.

But for some reason, we don’t believe it.

I wish we did.

Acknowledging Love

My life is a miracle.

I swear, I was watching The Color Purple when I wrote last night’s post. I caught it on the part when Miss Millie couldn’t get her car functioning so Sophia had to cut her visit to her family short.

I think it made me sad and pissed off.

I love that movie because Celie transformed her life after four decades of abuse. But did you realize what allowed her to finally stand up for herself? Do you remember the moment when she got her power back, the same power that she was born with but had been buried beneath years of criticism and shame?

It came at precisely the moment when she and Shug sat together on the bed after checking the mail, and read Nettie’s letter.

As she read aloud the words that released her worst fear and she learned that the only person who had ever loved her was in fact, alive, she was born again.

To me that says, it’s the absence of the knowledge that you are loved that causes you to believe you deserve the harsh words and foul treatment from people who really hate themselves and therefore can’t show anything but hatred.

It was the absence of the KNOWLEDGE of love…

Her sister was always there, loving her from afar, but it wasnt’t until she could recognize that love that she was able to find the strength to love herself and walk away from the abuse.

Acknowledging that love exists in your life is the first step in creating your best existence. You are the creator of your best existence simply because it is within your power to RECOGNIZE and appreciate the love that you already have.

If one person in your life loves you, many others will too. If you are trying to love someone and they won’t allow you to, or aren’t giving you the same love back, it is your choice to seek the love you desire and deserve. Or you can stay and continue to try to walk through the brick wall.

I’m still learning to ignore the specks in the beautiful painting that is my life and focus more on bold, grand strokes that make up the vibrant imagery.

As always, I’m still learning, still growing, still shaking off my past.

I’m a bad motor scooter…

And it won’t take ME decades to gain my power back!

Dealing With Boys & Overzealous Men

My life is a miracle.

Everytime I write that phrase it relaxes me.

It’s funny how I know all of these people and so many claim to love me yet…the only time I can relax and talk to with the greatest of ease is when I’m writing here.

I really need a massage. What I’m really saying is, I need a hug. A big hug of reassurance from someone strong, someone who I consider to be an authority figure, someone that loves me unconditionally.

I have no one like that in my life so I have to hug myself. LOL!

I’m laughing on the outside yet trembling on the inside because like Kia said back in Houston, “I’m tired of the strong Black woman making it on her own shit!”

Amen!

Yet, we do what we have to do.

Yesterday was a most interesting day. I have my boys this weekend. They are doing extremely well, can’t complain at all except for one little thing which I will address with their father.

They got their report cards and as usual, No C’s, A few B’s and mostly A’s. They even get A’s in conduct. Their little personalities are developing and I can see them for who they are and who they will become.

They show me so much love. My sons are very affectionate with me. My Mama says I shouldn’t “baby” them by giving them so many hugs and kisses but I don’t see the point in pushing a child away when all they want is affection.

In class I learned that when you push a child away or don’t respond to a baby’s cry, it teaches them not to trust the world. They then feel that they are alone and tend to not want to get close to anyone trusting that the person won’t be there for them.

For me it’s more cut and dry. I WISH I had someone to give me a hug. Maybe if I had been hugged more when I was a child, I wouldn’t have ran through all of those men in search of that loving embrace, which I never found. Maybe if I had hugs on a regular basis right now, I’d be less anxious.

Today we had a full day, starting with breakfast and then a long wait at the barber shop. My sons say the barber hurt their heads, grabbed their heads too tightly and sprayed liquid in their faces. I’m going back and forth on this one. My gut instinct says not to take them back to that barber because he could have a thing against children and I don’t want my children to ever think that their opinion is not important enough for me to take into consideration. On the other hand, they could be sensitive.

Naw…even as I write this, I’m getting this feeling that my gut is right. If they took the time to tell me this, (they are not complainers) I think I should listen.

Today I also received another shock while we were at the barber shop. My older son slapped his brother for talking too loudly. I repeatedly tell my sons that people will treat you the way they want to be treated or copy the way others treat them so this behavior was ouut of character considering that I don’t slap my sons and I know they don’t want to be slapped.

“Do I slap you?” I asked him.

“No,” he replied.

“Does your Daddy slap you?”

“No,” he replied.

“Well then who slaps you? Who treats you like that where you think it’s okay to do it to someone else?”

My son paused. “[Insert BBDD’s girlfriend’s name].

“WHAT? She slaps you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Stay right here,” I said and walked a few feet away as my insides raged.

If this chick was legit, I’d call her up and talk to her about it but she has already shown me that she has no respect for my wishes so I have to talk to their Dad about it.

I’m going to leave that topic alone right now because don’t want this to become a venting session.

Today I met three men who just wouldn’t leave me alone. I met two of them while I was downtown reading my book, trying to soak in the information while my boys were at their acting class.

I gave them the friendly hello and a non committed smile, but that seemed to encourage them to pursue me so I’m going back to being a bitch. Men complain all the time that women are bitches and won’t even be cordial but when you give them the slightest sign of kindness, they take that shit as a sign that you want to engage them in conversation. Not true.

The third man I met was at my cousin’s birthday party. As soon as I walked in I saw him look at me with delight. At first I was polite because if he’s a friend of the family, he has to be cool but after my third time telling him that I wasn’t interested in dancing with him, I had to go tell my Mama and she went over and cursed him out.

That didn’t stop him. He still proceeded to follow me around the party asking me for my number. ~shakes head~ And you wonder why I run from men; they don’t take no for an answer.

At the party I took the time to go and chat with my male cousin and my uncle. They were talking about how mechanics will try to test you to see if they can take advantage of you. I interjected that I had encountered this problem myself and I wished that I knew more about car maintenance.

“You don’t know how to rotate your own tires or change your oil?” my cousin asked me.

“No,” I replied. “No one ever taught me.”

He laughed. “That’s because you’re weak.”

I was flabbergasted. “My not knowing how to do those things has nothing to do with being weak. Everyone has different experiences and just because you can do things that I can’t do, doesn’t mean your experiences are more important than mine,” I told him.

“She’s very intelligent,” my uncle said to my cousin. “But there are areas that she needs help in.”

“Ofcourse there are,” I said. “Everyone has them. I’m open to learning more and hearing your suggestions. I can learn something from everyone.”

“That’s the type of woman I need,” my cousin said. “A woman who is open to molding.”

“Molding?” I questioned and wrinled my nose. “Just because I say I’m open to listening to what you have to say doesnt mean that I’m going to do everything you say. I’ll listen but ultimately I make the best decisions for myself and I’m not afraid to say NO, when I don’t feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

See what I mean? Some men think that by giving them your attention, they have full reign over your life.

~sigh~

I swear, if I hadn’t invented Steve, I wouldn’t believe that there were good and loving men in the world. Writing about him gives me the blind faith I need to continue to stay hopeful about someday meeting someone who treats people the way that I do.

Wishes & Miracles

My life is a miracle.

My entire body is all tense right now. I’m thinking about my workload for the week and the fact that I have all this work to do but the rewards seem to be slow in coming.

I did get to see one of my articles published in the newspaper today. Since it’s in a special section they didn’t add it to the paper’s website but in three days (according to my contract) I can add it to my portfolio.

It’s a well structured story, I believe. It has all of the right elements and a nice tone and I’m actually proud of it although I wish I could have written more.

I dream of writing different types of articles. I want to write articles that tell stories instead of just reporting events, gathering quotes and all that.

~sigh~

Maybe one day.

I’ve come a long way, haven’t I? I used to daydream about seeing my by-line in print and I have had so many opportunities to enjoy that during the past two years.

Breaking into journalism as a freelancer has been a wild adventure but I’m getting the hang of it. I try to focus on the fact that I know I’ll grow from these humble beginnings and one day see the fruit of my labor.

I just dropped off my boys to their Dad’s house and I miss them already. We had a beautiful weekend. My favorite times with them are when we are cuddling and talking while laying in the bed. When we fall asleep and I hear them breathing, their legs sometimes thrown over mine, their warm bodies pressed against mine, I feel nothing but grateful to have given birth to these two earth angels.

I stare at their legs. I run my finger across their little noses. I sit back and smile in amazement because they exist because of me. They are the best part of me.

Their lives, my life, our lives really are miracles.

Dinner With Steve & The Fam

I was so nervous all morning as I searched through my closet for something to wear. This was only our second date after all and now I was going to meet his brother and his wife.

I chose a simple black dress with green accents on the collar and the quarter length sleeves paired with some strappy black flat sandals and a black hand purse.

Steve called at 5pm. “Hey you, are you almost ready?”

“No, not yet. You said 7.”

“Well, I’m here and you can come by to pick me up at anytime.”

I got dressed and drove over to the building where I picked him up the first time. He was standing there looking smart in a pair of pressed jeans and a crips white polo shirt.

“Do you want to drive?” I asked him.

“Sure, he said and hustled over to the drivers side, adjusting the mirrors and seat to fit his 6 foot frame.

“Tee,” he said as he looked over his shoulder into the backseat.

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” he said.

A few minutes later he pulled into a gas station and I glanced at him with a puzzled expression.

He didn’t say a word as he pulled up next to the gas pump, filled my tank with gas and then vacummed out my car, throwing away old water bottles and old napkins that were on the floor.

“Umm, thanks,” I said.

He patted my hand and grinned. “You DO need a maid!” he joked.

“Um, Where does your brother live?” I asked.

“He lives in Coral Gables.”

“Well, do you rent at the same hotel everytime you come? You stayed with him the first time I met you, but the second time you were at that building.”

“Oh, that’s my condo,” he informed me. “I usually rent it out but when we met it was being cleaned after my last tenants moved away. So now I stay there.”

“So you own it?”

“Uhh..yeah.”

“Do you own the brownstone in Brooklyn too?”

“Yeah. By the way, Rick moved out this weekend. You can come visit me anytime now.”

Wow.

“What is your brother’s wife like?” I ask him.

“Well, she’s a lot like my father’s ex-wife. The woman who raised us. She can be a bit cranky at times but she’s sweet once you get to know her.”

“What did you tell them about me?”

He looked over at me and laughed. “I told them that I met a woman that I like a lot and I wanted them to meet you.”

I didn’t know what to say so I changed the subject.

“What was it like being raised by someone other than your Mom? I know you and your Mom are still very close. Was there any tension between your Mom and StepMom?”

“Naw..Mom was cool about it. I mean, we were boys so she knew that it would be a good idea for us to be around our Dad. In case you’re wondering about your boys, don’t worry, they’ll never lose their love for you. We didn’t. We knew who our Mom was but Janice was nice too. We love them both.”

As we drove down I95 and off into South Miami we chatted about my classes and his latest adventures in New York.

“Oh, I have something for you,” he said and pulled a small satchel from the side door.

I hadn’t noticed it when I picked him up.

“What is it?”

“You have to guess.”

“Uhhh….”

He grabbed his cell phone from his waistband and dialed a number. The satchel vibrated.

What the?????

“Open it,” he told me.

“When I picked up the satchel and opened it, I laughed.

“You bought me a Blackberry?!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, can’t have you around here without a cell phone, can I?”

“Thank you Steve! But um…” I reached into my purse and produced my cell phone.

“I got paid for a story yesterday and I turned my phone back on,” I informed him.

He laughed. “Well, I guess you have two phones then. Don’t worry about the bill, it’s a company phone.”

We rounded a corner and I sat back, enjoying the beautiful scenery. Coral Gables looks nothing like North Miami. The houses here all look like mansions compared to where I grew up. Whenever I get the chance to drive down south I like to fantasize about one day living in such a beautiful place.

“We’re here,” Steve announced as we pulled into a powder blue two story home with a magnificent circular driveway.

“Hey, I need your help,” I told him as I stepped out of the car.

“What’s going on?”

“Um..well, I’m a little nervous and when I get nervous I sweat a lot..um..down there. I’m so self concious about it so just tell me if you smell anything.”

He laughed and laughed. “Oh yeah, I remember that story. You’re crazy. You’re fine. Don’t worry.”

Steve pulled out his keys and opened the front door. Two little brown dogs jumped up and ran toward us, sniffing my feet and jumping up on Steve as we sat our packages down.

“What’s in the box?” Steve asked.

“Oh, it’s a chocolate cake.”

“Did you bake it?”

“No way. Publix did.”

“Ofcourse!”

Suddenly a dainty woman appeared. She looked about my age with a short black bob and a flower print dress with heels.

“Hello Steve,” she said and gave Steve a hug before turning to me. “And it’s nice to finally meet you Tee. I’m Brenda.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I managed to squeak out. This lady was FIRE! She looked like a million bucks. Her bob was flawless and pressed just right. Even the toe ring she wore was stunning.

We followed her to the living room, which was cozy, yet splendid. The color scheme was all white, except for a few yellow daisies set in colorless vases on the end tables. The sofa was plush and inviting. I followed Steve’s cue and sat down beside him.

“Chill out,” he whispered. “It’s just my brother and his wife.”

“Mark!” Steve called out. “We’re here!”

“What’s up?” Mark said, seeming to appear out of nowhere.

I tried to hide my suprise at how handsome he was. He and Steve could have been twins, except he was a much more muscular version. Just two years older than Steve, Mark has made his living in banking and was now a vice-president of a mid-sized bank downtown.

His wife was a manager of a boutique on South Beach and she definitely looked the part.

Mark sat down and pulled out a magazine. I smiled as he turned to page 33.

“So you’ve read one of my latest stories?” I asked him.

“I sure did. When Steve told me that you were a writer I was impressed. I do a little writing myself, mostly poetry though, but I’ve never been published.

“It’s not that tough,” I told him. “Just choose a magazine that you like to read and send a poem in. When I worked for a magazine in Atlanta, we’d get poetry all the time and I’d choose the best pieces and publish them. It all depends on the editor and the seasonal features being produced.”

“Well, maybe I will. Would you like to read some of my writing?”

I gasped. “I sure would! Do you perform your pieces?”

Mark chuckled. “Oh no! I rarely even share them. But I guess I could read some for you after dinner.”

“Yay!” I squealed and everyone laughed. “I’ll perform one of mine too. We can play some games!”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Steve stifle a laugh.

“What you laughing at?” I asked him and pinched his arm.

“You. You’re always ready to perform.”

“Are you an actress?” Brenda asked me.

“Something like that. I guess. I can act, but I’m not interested in a career like that. I’m in graduate school, trying to see if I can hang in the academic world.”

“That’s right, Steve mentioned you’re going to be a therapist,” Brenda said as she smiled a wide grin.

“Yes, a Couples therapist. But really I hope to do research about communication issues and write books about relationships and stuff like that. I’ve just written an article about Dealing With Regret.”

“What was your advice?” Mark asked.

“Um, well I reminded the readers that we all have choices to make in life and no choice is the wrong choice. If we learn to trust ourselves to make the right decisions, even if things don’t go the way we envisioned them we’ll feel better knowing that every decision leads to our ultimate destinies. No decision should ever be regretted. No regrets!”

“You’re right!” Brenda remarked and then shocked me by asking. “Do you regret leaving your sons?”

I gasped and looked at Steve. He shook his head.

“Um…No. I figured it was the best thing to do at the time. And I didn’t leave them, their father asked for them,” I replied curtly.

“Well, I don’t have children but I couldn’t imagine leaving them at such a young age. Don’t you feel bad about that at all? I mean, they are your children after all. Every child needs a mother.”

I gulped as my blood began to boil. “They have a mother. I’m a part of their lives. I see them every week and we spend time together.”

“But still..I can’t imagine doing that because….”

Steve cut her off. “Brenda. Tee says she has no regrets. Leave it at that. She is just fine with her arrangement.”

“I’m sure she is,” Mark interjected. “Um..everybody, let’s go have dinner.”

Valentines Day With My Boys

Oy!

I must have caught a bug or something because I’ve been coughing and achy all week long. I did enjoy my Valentines Day. My boys and I had lunch at The Cheescake Factory and they gave me a card that read “I’m so glad I take after you..” That made me cry. I think they like to see my reaction when they give me a gift. I always cry and it’s always sincere. It’s so good to be thought of and appreciated.

When I cry, my boys just look at me with a weird expression and ask, “Why are you crying Mama?”

“Cuz I’m so happy,” I’ll reply between sniffles.

They shake their heads and then give me a hug.

My boys are so great! Once I took them to McDonald’s for breakfast and when I put our food down, they immediately started to help me by placing my straw in my orange juice cup and pouring the syrup over my pancakes for me. I was dumbfounded.

“You always take such good care of me!” I exclaimed.

“That’s because we love you Mama,” my older son said.

Sometimes I wonder whose kids these are. I never taught them to take care of a woman like that but even my 5 year old will talk about how he can’t wait to be married and take care of his wife. I can’t wait to see what good men they become.

Maybe there’s hope for the male gender after all…

Embracing Your Inner Guidance

My life is a miracle.

Today I submitted an essay to a website that gives advice and personal accounts to readers who are considering going to grad school. Although you know I love to share my testimonies, the featured essays get $50. ~smile~ Gotta love compensation, right?

So I wrote my essay about my first few weeks in grad school and when I was done I sat back in awe because…Damn…I can really see how this degree will help me in my career as a writer.

Think about it…my portfolio has stories from topics across the board. Although they are mostly related to Black people, there’s no real niche to my writing with the exception of the subtle undertones of inspiration.

When I get this degree, (and who know’s I may even keep going and get a PhD.) I’ll be somewhat of an expert on developing healthy relationships. I can focus my writing on that. Wouldn’t it be cool if I could offer beautiful love stories, relationship advice and inspiration all at the same time?

Wow.

Check this out…I can’t even remember when this idea came to me, but I think it was sometime while I was in undergrad. I got this idea for a book/biography of a well known celebrity but the book would require me to do a study on a particular pool of women, gather the results, analyze the data and offer advice on how to help create more healthy relationships for these women. At the time I had no idea how I could ever be qualified to write this book.

And look where I am right now…I’m actually in the position to develop the skills to make this book come to life.

Isn’t this wild?

I read this post on one of my favorite websites called Do You Want Guidance Or A Guarantee. It really blew my mind because it explained that when we ask God for guidance, He sends it, but it’s not in a big-picture type of way. Guidance simply means holding our hand and walking step by step with us toward our desired end.

Guidance from God isn’t a giant leap toward our destinies. It’s a step by step process that will involve many seemingly small pieces that make up the bigger picture.

You may pray and ask God to help you buy a house. You then feel an urge to contact an old friend that you got into a fight with years ago. But this has nothing to do with buying a house, right? Well, that friend could have a friend that is foreclosing and needs a quick buyer. You never know.

That’s guidance. It’s being obedient to the little urges that spring up in your spirit. Don’t ignore them, act on them, you never know how that one insignificant act could place you right where you need to be to embrace your blessing.

Although grad school has caused me some stress and distress, I can see the bigger picture now. I asked for this long ago. I envisioned it and got excited about it. In fact this book, in my mind, is the key to my successful future as a self help writer. I always referred to it as my secret weapon and I’ve told only a handful of friends about it.

It’s going to happen. And that’s because I didn’t ignore the little urgings that tapped my spirit. I left Dallas and my dream job. I applied to grad school and I am still hanging in there even though it’s been a rocky ride so far.

I do have guidance and I am listening. I already have the guarantee.

Ahhh….I feel great knowing that the guarantee comes with trusting God and the guidance comes with listening to your inner being and acting on what it tells you.

I am proud of myself because I know that I can listen to the divine spirit within and make sense of the twists and turns that come with being fully aligned with my true destiny.

No Pain and No Projects

Whoo!

Ain’t nothing like finishing an article and emailing it in…It’s the most joyful feeling knowing that you beat your deadline. ~sigh~

After I finished polishing up my story, I sat down to read some stories on The Experience Project and most of them were really sad.

It seems like people just wallow in the despair and can’t get up out of it, especially when it comes to unrequited love.

I’ve been there before. Probably plenty of times, but I’ll have to tell you I don’t remember what it FEELS like anymore. It doesn’t hurt me anymore. I’m sure it hurt back then, but obviously I got over it and now…I don’t even remember the love I had for that person or persons. Believe me, the pain you’re experiencing now as you grieve a lost relationship will be SOON forgotten. It happened to me.

I don’t even remember what it feels like to love someone. The memory escapes me. I’ve met quite a few men lately and during the first conversation I can usually tell if it’s someone that I want to deal with romantically or not. Usually NOT. And that’s okay with me. I never feel like I’m missing out on anything.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m making the decision too rashly, because once I’ve made up my mind about a man, I don’t give him a second chance. But then I think, “Nahhhh…. I’m still okay without him.”

I mean, sometimes I think about having companionship, especially when I hear the stories of my friends relationships, but it’s still like wishing to see a Unicorn. If you’ve never really seen one, you can’t be too dissappointed when it doesn’t show up.

~shrugs~

I made a big decision today. My classmate has the hook-up on public housing and she said she’d push my paperwork through to get a cheap place for me and my sons. When I reviewed the list of housing options I noticed that all of the options were in my old neighborhood AKA The Projects.

Ok, so I have the option of getting my boys back and having our own home. But then I remembered the promise that I made to myself; I will never allow my sons to live in the projects. Although I want them back with me right now, it makes no sense to downgrade their living experience just to satisfy my own personal desire.

Funny…I never thought I’d feel this way. If I can’t give them a good quality living experience right now, I’ll wait until I can. It has to come sooner than later.