If I Were a Boy...

I don't think I'd be much different than I am now...

If I were a boy, I wouldn't like the games females play, but I'd play along for the right one.

I wouldn't invest too much time or energy on something that wasn't worthwhile.

I wouldn't let my friends tell me who I should like, and I wouldn't let people I like tell me who my friends should be...

I would love to be expressive and in tuned with my emotions and feelings, but honestly, if I were a boy I'd be trying to stay more in tuned with the feelings and emotions of the right one.

If I were a boy, I would watch football much more often than I do, and dribble a ball every now and then.

If I were a boy, I would tell you...

I know that I would have to, because guys don't have the luxury of hoping she'll come around.

They know that they have to go for it, and if its too late and they miss their chance, then they'll regret it forever.

If I were a boy, I would look you in your eyes, and try to see more than what you want me to see because I would think that's the way to figure you out.

If I were a boy, I would play it cool and nonchalant when you told me what I've been waiting to hear since I first met you.

If I were a boy, I probably would put myself first, but thats only because that is the best way to avoid pain.

If I were a boy you would never have the chance to get over me because I would resurface at the most inconvenient of times, with the most irresistible of smiles, and expect you to accept it.

If I were a boy I would be the wrong boy, who's right on paper, but no one takes the time to read the fine print so I'd get away with it all..

If I were a boy, I wouldn't waste time trying to figure out the perfect way to say this or that because whatever I would say, you'd get the point...

If I were a boy, I would definitely want my cake, and to eat it too. And I quite possibly could have that...for a while.

If I were a boy, I wouldn't let you know but I'd be nervous all the time, and ask you if you were so we could have something in common.

If I were a boy...I'd make myself clear. I wouldn't be cryptic, poetic, or even epic.

If I were a boy...you would know how I feel.

But I'm not a boy...

Alas, if tomorrow, I wake up, wash my face and feel stubble...

you'll be the first to know...

I promise.

What are we...

My fellow people of darker skin tones and nappy hair...

I am confused...

What are we?

Are we black?

Are We African-American?

Are we oppressed?

Are we free?

Are we ignorant?

Are we ghetto?

Are we bourgeois?

Are we winning?

Are we losing?

Are we even in the game?

Are we the people who were chosen?

Are we the ones promised the land?

Are we the builders of this country?

Are we the destructors of ourselves?

Are we the ones who unveiled the secrets of the universe?

Are we the veil over our own eyes?

Are we embarrassing?

Are we embarrassed?

Are we the fooled?

Are we the foolish?

Are we even fooling anyone?

Are making our own beds to lie in?

Or are our beds making us complacent and passion-driven to the point of outward stupidity and insolent lack of remorse?

Are we overcoming?

Or is the weight of our suffering, problems, no solutions and false promises coming over us?

Are we there?

Or do we have miles yet to go?

My people, my people, my people...

What are we??

Kalos...

Jeffie:

You're totally awesome.  Its weird because I don't even think you know how much you fascinate me.  Your an individual and don't really let others influence you.  You make up your own mind and it doesn't matter if no one agrees.  When I first met you, I thought "Haha...he's cool...I need to know him better". And now Im like, "I have good taste in friends."  You listen to me when I rant and give me sound advice as best you can.  We have these hella in depth phone convos about relationships, black people, expected behaviors and why we won't conform...lol you lowkey keep my man swagg alive.  There was a point in time when we could've had some serious awkwardness lol, but alas, we're too cool for that =) 

So I fell asleep, under the bridge...

Sleeping and Dreaming.

Don't wake me lest I lose this image of perfection I only find when I close my eyes.

Allow me peaceful slumber, and utter bliss.

Allow me to fall deeper into this sleep, and if I never wake, at least you know I was happy.

In this place where my imagination has free reign, I can be free.

Free to believe that everything will be alright and that I have nothing to worry about.

Free to feel vulnerable, insecure, immature, and to succumb to my girlish ways.

Free to laugh when things don't seem funny, and cry because it feels good.

In this place, this place of devotion, this place devoid of interruption and the pain derived from pleasure, 

In this place, I hide them.

My heart that beats so fast when you're close, and slows down for the kiss.

My emotions that run wild and ridiculous because they know not what to do with themselves.

My pain that must be ignored and insignificant so that no one sees it.

My life, so spontaneous, so outlandish, a work of art on the Most High's canvas.

My joy, sporadic and intense, just what I need to get through the day.

In this place they reside, and in this place they will stay.

To bridge the gap between dream and reality, I must first bridge the gap between you and I.

But the bridge is rather long, and the water is so cold, I know I will need your help.

However, wanting to build this bridge and needing your help are two opposite things.

Having the courage to finally admit that I want a bridge built is an obstacle I must overcome alone.

Needing your help to build it is where tend to recoil.

I wait, patiently for you to express your desire to join my building efforts.

But the longer I wait, the longer it will take, for the bridge to be built.

And what I once wanted, I no longer have interest in.

Its either that, or I need a new contractor.

What I really need is cooperation, dedication, and a lil bit of elbow grease.

I like the way you work with your hands, and I don't really want to look elsewhere when all I want is right here.

How do I say this to you?

How do I tell you that I need your help, without sounding helpless?

How will you ever know if I don't tell you?

How do I keep finding myself at this body of water, waiting for my bridge to be built, and waiting alone?

How do I escape?

Easy, I take a nap. 

And in my dream, all is well.

And in my dream I am happy.

And in my dream I can hide.

When I don't want you to know how long I was waiting, or that I need your help.

When I realize that you were never willing to help.

I take back the supplies for the bridge, and bring home supplies to rebuild my fortress.

Its newer this time, and even more impenetrable than the last.

So I rebuild my fortress, and it protects me.

Me, and everything else I hide in my dreams.

Barefoot and Chasing Shoes

When I see something I like, I must have it.  Be it, a guy, a pair of shoes, or a lifestyle.  I make it my business to get the thing on my team.  My tactics range from simple manipulation, to outright asking for said thing, it all depends on my mood.  The funny thing about it is that I never really know what I want until I see it.  And once I see it, its like not much matters at the time beyond getting the object in point.  This is a form of determination, yes I acknowledge that, but sometimes what I want isn't what's best for me.  This leaves me semi-satisfied or troubled.  Then I must extricate myself from the situation.

Take this pair of shoes I had.  The first time I saw them in a store I did a double take and stood staring at them in all their deftly lighted and displayed splendor.  I walked away distraught because at the time I couldn't take them home.  When I returned two weeks later, I left the mall with those shoes.  Now they weren't the type of shoes you could wear everyday, and I didn't have a single thing to wear with them.  But they were pretty, and in the heat of the moment, impulse took control, and I had to have the shoes in my possession.  When I put them on, my feet ached terribly, and they ultimately weren't worth the pain they brought.  Now they sit in my closet and watch as day after day I chose more comfortable, sensible shoes, or even more wrong shoes, with a better fit.  

Really? This totally isn't about shoes.  Its about guys.  I am the girl that is utterly fascinated by someone one day, and completely uninterested the next.  But again, just like the shoes, when I see something I like, I must have it.  Sometimes its the looks, although the shallow approach isn't a good one, a fact I learned early on in my life.  Other times its odd quirks they have, the shoes they wear, the things they feel passionate about, and sometimes its just because.  So my interest is piqued, and just like in the store I am enthralled by him, but can't have him right away, because yes, it is the thrill of the chase.  So I walk on by, but internally claim it as mine.  At this point it may become a bit animalistic because sometimes I feel like a beast stalking its prey.  A beast because I don't think far enough to worry about the probability of losing interest after its mine, and prey because they are unsuspecting and undeserving.  

Once I have it in my possession, I try it on for size, and see how it fits with my atmosphere.  It might be a perfect fit at first, but not made to last, so falls apart at the first sign of trouble.  It may be outwardly beautiful, but of virtually no use otherwise.  It may have been adorable on display, and no where else.  If any of these is the case then I very quickly lose interest, and place them in the closet to collect dust.  Every once in awhile though, the rarity, quality and good conversation get me stuck.  I start to think about wearing the shoes with everything and forgetting about all of my other shoes.  I start to wonder how the shoes feel about me.  Are they happy to be mine? Is there something I lack? Do they like her feet better?

The only way I see to win in this situation is to put those shoes away as well.  Oddly enough, those shoes are always the ones that I should've left in the store, hidden between the more frumpy and common of shoes.  They are the ones that get me into trouble.  The ones who either don't know what's best for me, or know and don't care.  The sexy ones with indifferent attitudes, slick words, and egos to battle mine.  These are the ones that get to me every time.  They know what to say, how to say it, what to do, and how far to go.  The more I think of it, these aren't the ones I choose, these are the ones that choose me.  My mom always told me not to let them choose me, but how do you tell that to someone who would just rather be picked sometimes.  Being the aggressor gets stale.  And trouble starts.  For me anyway.  But I'm not one to put up with the headaches, I'd rather be alone and figure out what to do with myself sans the person in question.  

And thats how I cope.  Getting close, but not too close.  Closing the gap, but creating an escape route in the process.  Survival tactics of an unexperienced hunter.  

Jonesing

What does it mean to have "feelings" for someone?  They could be feelings of lust, feelings of disgust, or feelings of nonchalance.  When someone says "I got feelings for him" or "Damn, I caught feelings for her" what are they trying to say? Does it imply the beginnings of emotional attachment? Or is it just a step past liking someone?  Have I ever caught feelings? I honestly can't say that I know because of my nature.  I tend to squirm from the situation before it gets too serious, that way I won't have to deal with the trouble that comes with "feelings".  But without this defense mechanism, where do I stand? Would I be just another one of the "emotional" females that I claim to disdain?  Is my stand-offish nature the only thing that stops me from catching feelings?

Now about the swagg.  I think to an extent almost everyone has it, but some have it stronger than others.  Mine is the one that plays it cool in most situations, but hides when its to my benefit.  I've learned to manipulate it to get what I want most of the time.  Then came the day when the swagg couldn't save me because it was scared.  It took me a long time to admit that to myself, but yes, my swagg was scared.  Scared of being replaced by those emotion thingies.  So it laid low, while I toyed with the idea of hanging it up.  Thankfully when I needed it most, it came to my rescue, but that was definitely a close call.  Now I won't leave home without it, like a Visa.   

So I watch the romantic comedies, and read the novels, admiring the adoration and love that is fictitiously created to give faith to the hopefuls, and disprove the cynics.  I enjoy these things, and think about how one day, the perfect idea of romance and happiness will all be mine.  Like a fairytale almost.  But deep down I know that I would be lucky enough just to have unrequited love.  Not happy, but lucky.  I don't know much about this love thing, but people search their whole lives to find it, die for it, kill for it, and cry for it.  So Im assuming its something serious.  To care for someone else more than I care for myself sounds absolutely ridiculous to me right now...but maybe one day it'll make sense.

Now, although I have never experienced this type of love, I don't believe it should be taken lightly, mistaken, or misused.  When people are together for all of two weeks and profess undying love for each other, lets be serious.  Who do you think you're fooling? Not me.  And love at first sight? More like lust at first sight.  Honestly though, there's no way you can know by looking at someone once that they will make you happy beyond belief.  I find that impossible to believe.  And then comes the question...how do you know when you're in love?  Do sparks fly, and butterflies take over your stomach?  And then how do you believe someone who tells you that they love you? That word can be the cause of ecstasy or it can be the cause of misery.  Do you chose which it will be? Or does the word have that privilege as well?

Toll House Chocolate Morsels

So, I've definitely never blogged before, but I figured now is as good a time as any to start.  A friend of mine (go Jeffie!) has a blog, and I read it, only to be inspired.  Who knows if this will be short-lived or not, because truth be told, my ability to commit is shabby to say the least.  But I guess if I have something to say (which I always do), I should say it.  Write it probably because no one wants to hear my gums flap all day.  

I'm not sure what topic to choose for this first blog, so I'll just say whatever comes to mind.  Almost like stream of consciousness, or something like that.  Ok so, I live in Vegas (whoo-hoo Sin City).  I work at a movie theater, and everyday I see interracial couples.  Now I have never personally agreed with these couples, but on the same token, every bread has its butter, and if it makes you happy, more power to you.  However, I now attend a Historically Black College, and for the past like three months I have been submerged in all things black so to speak.  So I get back to work, and I see these smiling and happy interracial duos, and immediately I am taken aback.  

Now I must examine.  Firstly, why do I oppose interracial dating?  Well I could say its because of the history of whites and blacks in America, and the fact that a few decades ago a black man could be killed for being with a white woman.  Or I could argue that from a female's prospective they are "taking all of our men".  None of these reasons are plausible to me anymore because it isn't decades ago, its today, and I don't really care about the guys dating the white women, its obviously a preference.  I could argue that its my upbringing because honestly my mother is Pan-African and would never allow interracial itemhood in her family.  Thats not it either because as much as my mother talks, I find it hard to believe that if I was dating a white man she'd totally disown me (I may be wrong though lol).  But even so, I would have to adopt the idea that if she can't love me in spite of it, she never really loved me that much at all.  How sad huh?

At this point, I can't say why I disagree with interracial dating, but I just know it rubs me the wrong way.  I also know Im not the only one who feels this way.  Now I have nothing against people of other races, but I feel like we should all just color inside of our lines.  Wrong? Maybe, but aren't we all wrong?  It may not be right, but its possible for me to feel a certain way without rationalization.  I tried to rationalize, but it didn't go over so well.  

Now, about my friends.  Some of them are totally in agreement with me about the interracial dating, whereas others feel like they shouldn't discriminate.  But what if its not you who's discriminating, what if its them?  I had this one friend who would repeatedly fall for guys of a different race, and get rejected.  Now Im not sure if they just weren't attracted to her, or if they weren't the type to date outside of their race.  Whatever the case may be, I had to continually come to her aid, and revive her self-esteem when she learned of their disinterest in her.  I initially chalked her up as being stupid, then I thought about it.  She may just genuinely be attracted to guys of opposite races.  Is it fair for me to judge her for that?  She was my friend regardless, and if I liked something she didn't it wouldn't be right for her to judge me.  

I could honestly go on for days, but the fact of the matter is, I try not to be one to judge, yet when the interracial topic would come up, I'd allow myself exceptions.  And thats fraudulent.  Either I'm a judgmental close-minded woman who has visions of right and wrong, and will never stray, or I'm the person I'd rather be.  Accepting of whoever and having respect for them for being the people they are with no fears.  I choose the latter, and I am a better person for it...I think.