Respect

Confusion. Disillusion. Disregard.
Silly me. I thought that maybe in a household that supposedly honors the hierarchy of age, I would have leverage over one younger than I.
Not even leverage so much as respect.
Is it too much for me to ask?
When I go out of my way to create a positive relationship with you.
Maybe that's the problem.
Would it be easier to demand respect of you if I hadn't worked so hard to make you feel equal to me?
If I treated you like a nuisance, a bother, and therefore an insolent useless factor in my life, would you be more apt to treat me with respect?
I have noticed you have a certain disdain for authority, and as a rebel myself, I respect that.
And I respect you.
Regardless of the many disrespectful, dishonorable and despicable things you do to me.
Am I a fool?
I should think not.
I take pride in the fact that I remain civil and respectful to you while you deliberately flout my authority as your elder, even as a human being.
I suffer these injuries from no one silently.
No one that is, except you.
Maybe its because I find it distasteful that I should even have to ask you to respect me in light of everything we are.
Or everything I thought we were.
Or everything we pretend to be.
Lies.
All of it.
You do not love me.
You do not honor me.
You do not respect me.
And now, finally, I know it to be true.

These Hands

Born empty-handed
The verve of life snatched from my bosom.
I die empty-handed.
Stolen from the cruelty of a society uninterested in my lack thereof.
I witness life at its fullest empty-handed.
These hands, filled with only lines and scars, stretch outward toward the sky and receive each drop of light as if it were the last.
These hands reach down into the Earth and are warmed by the life of the soil.
These hands beautifully craft masterpieces, made to be felt and not seen.
Seen, but not heard is the lattice-work created by these hands, large enough for those hands to lose themselves in.
These hands empty as the clear sky, with intentions just as high. These hands were made to fly.
And fly they will.
Across the pages of papers, essays, novels, poems, prose.
Across the lives of the young, old, wealthy and destitute.
Across the hearts of the good the bad and the ugly.
These hands were made to create.
Watch them work.

Courage

If I had the courage, I'd tell you that you are beautiful.
From the way your eyes disappear with glee when you laugh, to the way you purse your lips while deep in thought.
From the way you twist your fingers to the scars on each one, symbolizing yet another amazing feat you accomplished.
The way you say my name, the way you say your own name. So simple, yet with the power to move every mountain that surrounds the heavily guarded fortress I call my heart.
Some how I always knew it would come to this.
This confession.
I could use every word in every dictionary in every language, and still couldn't describe the feeling that comes over me when I see you.
My heart actually skips a beat.
I feel it flutter.
Then my breath quickens with my pulse.
As I recall our previous encounter a smirk creeps across my face and I begin to nibble on my bottom lip.
I wet my lips.
Praying that this act won't be in vain and they finally get the satisfaction of meeting yours.
All this happens in the second before we embrace.
I clear my mind of all these irrelevant factors and turn my attention to you.
You always have it.
All of it.
Even when you think I'm on my phone, or watching television.
You always have my full attention.
Painstakingly I watch and admire your beauty from a distance.
Never allowing myself to show you how I feel.
I must remain composed.
I must remain focused.
I know you have the ability to make me throw all sensibility out the window.
I also know that once I start I won't be able to stop.
So I wait.
Yet no matter how much it hurts, I can't let go.
I could never leave you.
Ever.
If you need me you know I'll be there.
Always.
If I had the courage, I would show you how much you mean to me.
But I'm afraid of losing you.
So I play your game, by your rules, and do everything in my power just to keep up.

Purposefully Untitled

When I try to write about you it never comes out poetically.
It always just spills out in a huge emotional blob.
Waterfall even.
Hoover freakin dam.
Because once I start, there's no stopping.
I wish I could tell you all that comes to my mind without losing it.
I wish you would tell me what I want to hear, and end my suffering.
Once and for all.
I can see the possibility of perfection, if we just let go of inhibition, and acquiesce to intuition.
See cause in my tummy, where there used to be butterflies, now reside mature fantasies, distant memories, lovely tendencies, and that little bit of jealousy.
This scares me.
I don't get jealous.
I make them get jealous.
I never knew I could be so protective of someone who needs virtually no protection.
But then again maybe you do.
You said you needed me.
I believe you because thats the easiest thing to do.
It also seems to be the only thing I can do.
For some reason I can't wrap my mind around the fact that you would ever intentionally hurt me.
I love the way that feels.
I feel like I could get lost with you.
I could lose myself to you.
In you.
For you.
Around you.
Within you.
I don't know what I'm saying, and I don't know how it sounds.
I feel like I'm talking in circles.
Around and Around I go.
But there's no stopping it.
Endless and repetitive merry-go-round.
I'm spinning.
I'm dizzy.
I'm yours.

Jesse

“Man, I don’t love them hoes,” he scoffed in the dim light of the room. The air was thick with smoke and indifference. His closest friends surrounded him, vaguely following the conversation with dazed smirks on their faces. It had been a long night. Longer than any night Jesse had seen in years. From school to work to the club to after parties to the liquor store to the alleys to the cab back to his home. He sat in semi-concentration, pondering on his last utterance. These words were all too familiar to his lips, but suddenly they disturbed him. Not enough to make him take them back, but just enough to keep him awake that night.
He didn’t love the hoes. He lived for the moment, and only the moment. He couldn’t care less about the feelings of this one or that one. They knew what they were getting into long before they got into it. How could they blame him for his nonchalance? He lay in his bed trying to convince himself that every one of the females deserved the treatment he gave. Each one managed to screw up one way or the other, and he knew that it was always only a matter of time before the new fling became the old thing. This never bothered him before. But oddly, the more he thought about it, he felt incomplete. He decided to call his mother.
“Hey Ma, uhm I was just calling to say hi. I know its pretty late but there was something on my mind and I wanted to talk to you about it. I guess I’ll just call back tomorrow. Love you…” was the message he left. Jesse decided he wouldn’t figure out this massive problem in one night and forced himself to sleep. Deep in slumber, a dream came to him. In this dream he was lost in the jungle, running madly from something. A creature maybe? He couldn’t tell for sure, but he knew he couldn’t stop running. Up ahead he saw a clearing in the trees and he felt grateful that maybe he could finally see what was chasing him. He reached the clearing, and came to an abrupt halt. The jungle ended and as he peered over the edge, the cliff he was standing on dropped 100 feet into raging rapids. Jesse panicked. He had nowhere to go. The thing would get him. He heard a rustling in the trees behind him signaling the approach of the foreboding. With no time to think Jesse crouches down into the fetal position. But just before he ducks his head he sees the thing leap over his head and take flight across the canyon to the other side. Jesse looks up to see what was chasing him. It was him. Well not exactly him. The him he was running from was a bit more valiant and proud. He held his head high in the morning sun and his smile betrayed a brilliance that only comes from inner peace. Jesse stood confused and stared at his better side. The figure across the canyon smiled, then turned around and kept running.
“BRRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGG!!!” Jesse awoke to the ringing of the phone.
“Hello..” he groggily moaned.
“Hi baby! Did I wake you?” his mom’s shrill voice sang through the receiver.
“Uhmm yea, but it’s ok. How are you ma?”
“I’m fine baby. You know all I need is the Lord and my babies. How are you?”
“I thought I was ok, but I’m not so sure anymore. Can I ask you something ma?”
“Anything baby”
“You ever felt confused? Like about life in general?” Jesse asked, hoping he didn’t sound too ridiculous.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure what you mean Jay. Can you explain?”
“I don’t know Ma. Lately I’ve just been feeling like I haven’t been myself. Or the me I have been isn’t the me that I really am, if that makes any sense.”
“Oh, I see. Well baby, there’s only one thing you can do. You have to figure out who you are. Then decide to love yourself, no matter what anyone thinks.”
Jesse pauses for a long while, deep in thought, he’s interrupted by his mother.
“Baby? Are you still there?”
“Huh? Oh yea Ma, I was just thinking about what you said.”
“Oh I see. Well I’m glad to be of assistance. But Jay I have an appointment with Sister Harris, so can I call you back?”
“Oh sure, no prob. I love you Ma.”
“I love you more baby, bye-bye.”
Jesse listens to the phone click then slowly takes it away from his ear. Laying back on his pillow, he marinates in his mother’s advice. The thing that was eating him up was the fact that he didn’t really know who he was. He knew who his friends were, what his accomplishments had brought him, what his actions portrayed him as and even how he got to where he was. But who was he?

The Soul of my Heart and Body

My heart flies, but my body stays here.
My feet, firmly planted beneath me, reach deep down into the Earth, intertwining and interweaving, grabbing hold of the vibrancy that lives in the soil, and with it, I grow.
And as the sun comes up, I stretch my arms tall and wide, above the tops of the greenery to meet it. Its rays paint me golden, while I gratefully accept all my sun offers me. Drinking its light to protect myself from the dark.
When it rains, I am unworthy. The heavens open up, and liquid perfection drains from them. I soak up each drop with meaningful resolution and harness the power of this gentle, yet forceful element.

With these connections, I grow. I grow strong and tall. I grow fast and I grow peacefully. I am grounded. And still, as my heart flies, my body remains rooted to this Earth.

Blessed the gracefulness of a nighthawk, and the delicacy of a butterfly, my heart flies.
Into and out of danger it floats.
Barely escaping the grasp of hasty thieves, hoping to capture it, and frame its beauty.
It floats over streams and valleys, meadows, lakes, and mountains.
Through rain, sleet, hail, snow.
Through fire.
My rebellious heart battles this fire, knowing that victory may not result, willing to accept the burn of yet another battle scar.
The battle wages on war, and the flames get impatient. They are ready to devour my poor little heart.
Backed into a corner, I only have one thing to offer this monster. Love.

Love of self. Love of life. Love of love.

My heart emerges victorious because love is what its filled with. Love is what it carries so serenely through the landscapes and atmospheres of this world.
Love is what navigates it through the nights when its far from home, and the air grows cold. Love is what fuels it, to fly.

And fly.
And fly.

My heart flies.
but my body, remains rooted, to this Earth.

You Made Me

She was just a child, innocent and pure.
The elegance of her rhetoric and forward thinking had you under their spell, and you believed she was so far ahead of her time.
She perched, ladylike and effervescent, on your pedestal, proud was she to be the apple of your eye, at least until the next piece of ripe fruit made your mouth water.
Creative and inventive, she was impressed by your actions.
But alas, these things never last, and as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
Now she trusts no one. Selfish and impulsive, she puts her feelings first. If theirs get hurt in the process, they probably deserved.
She has no regrets, and she has no issue with their addiction to the poison. That’s a personal problem.
Her ideas are no longer innocent. Her motives no longer pure. Cruel intentions shaded by insincere smiles. She lives for the moment.
But don’t you dare judge her. You made her this way.

Then he came along and stole the stars just to make her eyes light up at night.
Like a whirlwind, he took her and spun her in circles, leaving a dizzy feeling that made her knees buckle when he smiled.
Carelessly, she threw away all the walls she had built up to protect herself, how else would she let him in?
And let him in she did. Foolishly believing that he’d let her in as well. That her walls wouldn’t be the only ones to shatter, sacrificing themselves for happiness.
And he fed into it, giving just enough to keep her coming back, never too much as to upset the balance of things.
A treacherous and slippery slope this thing called life becomes when we lose our senses. Dangerous and unchartered, the land of emotions is a vicious forest we fight not to get lost in.
He was the one that got away. The one that, for all intents and purposes, could have made her weak.
But he was too far gone, just out of her reach, and steadily moving further and further away.
Chasing him was out of the question, so she made the first adult decision of her life…she let him go.
But it wasn’t that simple.
For, he left a void, a space that needed to be filled. A lie that needed to be told.
So she became the pretty, poisonous flower that’s attracts most passersby, warning them to stay away. But do they listen?
Logically, they choose to fall, they choose to take another hit. And she obliges.
With no remorse, she feeds their habits.
But you, don’t judge her.
For you made her this way.

As in uffish thought I stood...

I thought it'd never be the same, once I had gone against the grain and played by my own rules.
Who's to say I hadn't invested my feelings into it equally?
I just knew when to take my light back, I knew I had to shine on my own once again.
It didn't make any sense to lose our heads when we had already put our hearts on the line.
Your's shot out the starting gate like a winning steed, mine a little slow at first, but soon in stride with yours.
This was the time when we had it all, and forever seemed to be found in each other's eyes.
In your arms were my inhibitions, and in my hand was your compassion.
What a delightful way to be.
Oh how I dreamt that we would be that way forever.
My dreams were haunted with images of you and I at our best, glowing from the inside out because we knew we had each other.
But times change.
And as swiftly as Spring had swept us up and carried us off into the green pastures to awe in its beauties, and Summer had whisked us away in a frenzy of heat, romance and unpredictability,
Fall came, with its crusting leaves and whipping winds to snatch the green from our pastures, and replace it with a dull brown.
Leaving us to attempt to regrow our seeds that normally thrived on sunshine.
Then the snow came.
Neither of us was prepared for such a season.
We grew colder with the thick of winter, and created a distance inhabited by frozen dreams, forgotten even after they thawed.
Nowadays we don't even know each other.
Sometimes I wonder...
what if we had never ventured?

Chocolate

Listening to this song reminds me of you. Putting on this shirt reminds me of you. Watching that video, reading that story, seeing those hats remind me of you. Eating this candy reminds me of you. You with your boyish smile that melts my heart and tells me you can do no wrong. You take this assumption of mine and run with it. While I’m admiring your ebony skin, you’re stand-offish attitude reels me in, and before I know it, I lose my motive. You said you’re too smooth to get lost in my eyes, but I never believed you. The fact of the matter is I’m as capable of rendering you powerless as you are me, so we struggle. We struggle and we fight because neither of us is selfless enough to give in to the other. Neither of us is strong enough to let the other take lead. I must admit, I’d let you take lead, if I thought you knew where to lead us. And the saga continues.

Then, every so often I lose interest, or am unable to give in where you want me to, and I tell myself I’m through. I’m through, and so are you for thinking I would ever go that far. That, however, only lasts a little while. Long enough for me to remember how adorable you are when you let me win. How much of me is lost when I see you. How much of me is taken when you walk away. Then I realize that I could never let you go, never lose this mountain of ambiguity that I am steadily climbing, positive that on the other side is peace, harmony, and chocolate. Endless chocolate. My addictive habits leak over into my sensibility, and before I know it, my face, my hands, my heart, are covered in chocolate. I need my daily dosage to stay sane. Delicious and sweet, the only time I ever regret our encounters is when my stomach is aching after an overdose.

If only I knew why you were so willing to share with me that which makes me fly, only to snatch it away when the delight of satisfaction is painted on my face. Then I feel used, abused, and ill at ease. I turn, with my tail between my legs and run back to my senses. They cradle me, and give me faith. I begin to believe that I am stronger than my addiction, and I want control again. I think I have it. I am content with the ball in my court. Then you saunter up to the hoop, begging me to play a game with you. One-on-one. How can I deny such a challenge? How can I turn my back on that sweet, innocent, delectable chocolate?

Sacrifices

Sacrifices are things we make even when we don't want to.  We make these sacrifices so that the people we care for know that we would go to great lengths to prove our devotion.  We may sacrifice our happiness, time, money, or even dreams.  The idea of willingly sacrificing is an amazing gesture for both parties.  Once you sacrifice for someone, the sacrifice you made becomes miniscule in comparison to the strengthened bond of the relationship.  In this light, sacrifice is good.  It allows one to show how deeply committed they are to a friend, family member, or love interest.  Sacrifice, under the proper guidance, is beautiful.

The beauty in sacrifice also lies in the reassurance that the person you sacrifice for will sacrifice for you.  Not that sacrifices should be made with this in mind, but to begin a relationship with someone in which the two of you are willing to sacrifice for each other is the epitome of good company.  If, however, you realize that the person is not willing to sacrifice in the manner that you did, or in any manner at all, pain is nearby.  Pain because its not easy to be out on a limb for someone, risking everything, and they refuse even to help you.  Pain because you feel alone and unworthy of the kindness and good treatment you bestowed upon said person.  Pain because you have sacrificed, and even in the light of disappointment, will sacrifice again, for that person's happiness; but who will sacrifice for yours?

I personally don't sacrifice much.  There are a chosen few people on the planet who I would truly sacrifice for.  Once I develop an attachment, whether it be romantic or platonic, to any person, I am willing to sacrifice for them because I enjoy their company.  For these chosen few, I would go to the ends of the Earth and back.  But would they do that for me?  My first encounter with this happened to me in elementary school when my brother's friends would tease me.  They would ridicule me and annoy me relentlessly when my brother wasn't around.  When I told him of this treatment, he plainly told me that he wouldn't give up his friends just because they made me mad.  My problem was in the fact that their willingness to disrespect me was a blatant display of their disrespect for him, and although I didn't want him to lose his friends, I had lost countless friends behind the same rules.  Needless to say I was hurt, but I learned quickly that just because you are willing to sacrifice for someone, doesn't guarantee reciprocity.

I was altogether shocked, however, to find myself in the same trap recently.  My prior exposure to such treatment allowed me to rationalize the situation, but the pain was the same.  I tend to find myself in this situation a lot.  For some reason I do the most for those who do the least for me.  This road is not one of flowers, daisies and sunshine.  But rather of false hopes, numerous disappointments and the strengthening of my resiliency.  Herein lies the problem.  Solutions anyone?   

Switch

Have you ever thought you liked somebody...until you met their best friend?

The story of my life.  For some reason I can never find the patience to wait for a better opportunity to present itself, I just accept the first offer.  A good business person would say to NEVER accept the first offer.  It's a sign of weakness and desperation. Now wait, I'm not desperate, I'd just rather have it all.  Have it all meaning I'd rather have the first offer, and also the second one too, when I'm ready.  But enough about me...

So, the obvious dilemma in the above situation is what to do.  Do you settle for the one you're with just to avoid drama and complication? Or do you go get what you want? Settling presents a few problems.  One, you're unhappy, like a child who sits outside the candy store with their face pressed to the glass.  Secondly, the person may really like you, whereas you're just being nice to save their feelings.  Thirdly, and most importantly, while your settling for second best, your opportunity for what you want can very well just pass you by.  I say this from experience because as was mentioned before...this is the story of my life.

Lets say that your a fighter, and settling for less than you're goal isn't an option for you.  Then of course you create a plan of action, and implement said plan.  Issues arise however, if the friend is loyal and whatnot, they might like you, but not be willing to act on it behind the guise of friendship.  This is bittersweet because although you love the fact that the person is loyal, you don't want to be on the wrong side of it.  Clearly, this situation can become sticky... 

Freshman Year

The most amazing, difficult, painful, joyous, chaotic, undefined and unrealistic journey there is. I found myself in places I would never have thought possible (double meaning). Where is that scared, shy at times, and sensitive adolescent that first set foot in the AUC in August? Honestly, I have no idea. I lost track of her so long ago, there's no point in wondering her whereabouts now. But she had to be ousted. I had to lose her hand to grasp my own future. I had to find the person I wanted to be, and introduce to the person I thought I'd never be. Combined with the woman my mother would be proud of, I created an individual. An individual who thinks less of consequences and revels more in the moment. An individual who's feelings are no longer on her sleeve. That was such a dangerous place for them to be. They were so easily affected by common elements that they had begun to lose their fervor. But alas, I rescued them and now the reside in the safety of their lair.

Freshman. Freshwoman is more like it. I coined this term when the feminism of the pearly gates infiltrated my judgment and I began to feel disrespected when people called me a man. Not too shabby huh? Well, behind this label I was able to charm more than a few and humor most. Now, however, I don't know what it means. Does it mean I'm fresh? Well in the urban vernacular sense of the word, I had always been fresh. Does it mean that I am rebelling against the institutions that place masculine labels and such in place in society to secretly keep control over all women? Ha. Thats a bit too excessive, even for a causeless revolutionary such as myself. Maybe its just my inner desire to always be set apart from the rest. My yearning to be considered unique. But a desire to be considered unique is disgraceful to those who truly are unique, whether others consider them as such or not. I am not altogether sure why I created this label, but I do know that it worked for the time being.

Now, as I matriculate beyond first-year status, credits, mistakes, and drama, I admire the journey I took to become who I am now. Not a shadow of regret lives in my heart. It was all worth it. Every smile, every giggle, every date, every denial, every tear, every double-booking, every time. Friends I made and lost before I knew why. Foes who became closer to me than the fake friends I had known. Friendship under the guise of physical attraction, and physical attraction that should've remained friendship. It was all worth it. I have hundreds of stories to tell, although I most likely never will. Some will be shared, and other will be taken to the grave as they say. But it was fun. All of it.

Dreams of a broken poet.

I just want to be deep.

I want to write something that inspires the general public and causes in uproar in the comfortability of the way things are.

I want to be a rebel with a cause worthy of fighting for, while my words ignite fiery and passionate resistance.

I want to be an influence, and push everybody under.

Maybe then you'll listen to me.

Listen and take heed instead of just smiling and nodding your head.

Listen to my dreams and believe me when I say they will change the world.

I want to be heard.

From the rooftops and mountaintops, from the basement to the attic, I want there to be static.

Maybe then you will cling.

Cling to my voice and it will guide you.

Of course you need to hear me first.

Ignorance

I'm trapped between the past and the future.
Whoever said there's no time like the present was right because there's no time like the present to wait for time to decide on what the future holds, or what lesson the past has to offer.
There's no time like the present and in the presence of this essence I must express the ambiguity that strangles my hand.
This hand.
The right one.
The one I live with.
The one I write with.
The one I die with.
I need it to be free.
Heaven forbid my hand stays strangled and these words go unwritten.
How shall I survive?
How do I find the surface I so desperately need to gather air before I delve back into this abyss we call pain?
The grip is tightening, and I can feel the bruises forming around my wrists.
The harder I fight, the tighter it gets, I'm losing for lack of complacency.
I lose because I know that its worth the fight.
I know that the pain now is easier to suffer through than the eternity of pain that bondage guarantees.
So I continue to fight.
But I am not alone.
Behind me is an army of warriors, equipped with weapons of mass destruction if they would only learn to use them.
For now we are at war with ourselves.
We haven't figured out how to use our weapons against this beast, so we bicker in frustration.
Each advance is followed by a humiliating retreat, and it feels as if we've lost valuable ground.
The enemy is closing in on us from all sides.
We've put our best soldiers on the front lines, but the lines are weakening.
Our passion is waning, and we are almost ready to accept defeat.
Just as the last sword is dropped I escape from my captor.
Valiant and proud I march into battle and am able to fight the enemy off for awhile.
But the pressure is too strong, I need help.
I can't win this alone.
I need my soldiers.
My soldiers need knowledge.
Knowledge.
Its the only thing that will fight off this massive assailant.
The only cure to this disease.
The only antidote to this poison.
The only light in this darkness.
We must use knowledge to fight this beast, and maybe one day we can win.
Maybe one day we will call ourselves the victors.
Maybe one day we will defeat this enemy we call ignorance.

Smile

Ignorance is bliss

and happiness is the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.

We hold back tears to make others feel better, and once we let them go, they wash away our fears.

We fight battles and lose wars only to find out that we don't support what we're fighting for.

When in our lives will we be able to relish in the wonder of whats behind the next corner of our minds?

When will we find out that what we fight so hard to create, need only be harnessed as we are equipped with it?

When will we learn that we have everything we need, right here?

One of those tangents I go on...

I recently had a conversation with a few friends of mine, and this conversation got me to thinking. They brought it to my attention that the perceptions people have of me may not be as wholesome as they should be, and that maybe I should change a few of my actions in order to curb this dilemma. I was told that the path I am on is not the best path for someone of my emotional stature, and that I would ultimately get hurt one day by the same rules that I play. Where I thought I was a woman, I was told that I am in fact a child. A child in a grown woman's game, and I can't win. This child is bruised and hurt, so she lashes out on members of the opposite sex for revenge. She is immature and a change needs to be made.

I sat in confusion. I was caught off guard by the lack of credit I was given. I never understood how people can assume that a person isn't aware of the impact of their decisions, and the repercussions of such decisions. In the midst of these daggers being thrown at me, I broke down. As emotional as I am, there is only so much criticism I can take from those close to me before I begin to second guess myself. This conversation however was not the first of its kind, and I'm quite sure it will not be the last. On the surface, my breakdown was viewed as a realization of the things I do that are not so becoming of a young lady. What they failed to realize is, I was never a young lady. I was never proper. Never the image of a respectable and acceptable lady. I find these aspects to be draining of creative freedom honestly.

Its quite funny because as I write this now I think back to all the times in my life when I was told to be ladylike. From cussing out boys in my neighborhood, to spitting all the time, to dressing like a boy. I have always run from the stereotypical "ladylike" persona. Nothing about the woman I am today says lady.

Freedom. The freedom of choice, of discretion, of progression, of separation. I fight like a prize boxer against the ties of this societal view of who I am supposed to be. It was never about me proving to someone else that I can be a rebel, or unique, or different. It was never about proving my sexuality or enhancing my ego. It was always about me.

I stand alone, for I don't fit the mold of the cross-legged, lip-locked, conformed, and confused lady. Who is this person? She is not my friend. She is my foe. For her to thrive, I must strive. Will I ever win this battle?

Never before have I tried to explain my actions to anyone else, because never before had I cared. It never made a difference to me whether people understood me or not. I am not to be understood. I am to be accepted. Take me as I am.

Now I begin to think that maybe one cause of my actions is to see who will love me and accept me in spite of my taboos. Who will see past what I am supposed to be, and love me for me. I say it time and again. I am Nandi. I am beautiful. I am strong. I am determined. I am head-strong. I am difficult. I am stubborn. I am what I have come to be. Take it or leave it.

And I can go on forever.

I'm not sure if my point was made.

Or if you even care.

You don't have to understand or even agree.

Just accept it. Accept me.

You just may like it.

What do you look for? (the Tripod Quadrant)

1. Have to Have
2. Can’t Have
3. Don’t Want, Will Accept
4. Want, Don’t Have to Have

Have to Have:

(in no particular order)

1. Ambition

2. Confidence

3. Attractiveness

4. Respectfulness

5. Intelligence

6. Clean Fingernails

7. Elevator

8. Get along with Family and Tripod

9. Attention

10. Friendship

11. Understanding of Sexual Purity

12. Trustworthy

13. Close Relationship with Mother

Can't Have

1. Offspring

2. Diseases

3. Drama

4. Skinny Jeans

5. Female Tendencies

6. Cancer Sticks

7. Dancer

8. Shorter than me

9. Clingy

Don't Want, Will Accept

1. Too Old

2. Crazy Exes

3. Hustler

4. Two Earrings

5. Ugly Feet

6. Long Fingernails

7. Lie to me

8. Singer

9. Tattoos

Want, Don't Have to Have

1. Nice Body

2. Sexy Swagger

3. Perfect Teeth

4. Car

5. Frat

6. Upperclassmen

7. Athlete

8. Pass Billiards Test

9. Sense of Humor

10. Dark Skin

(Please Note: Lists are subject to change)

Figure Me Out

Talk about me.

Blog about me.

Text about me.

Tweet about me.

Dream about me.

Ask about me.

Fiend about me.

Scheme about me.

Wonder about me.

Ponder about me.

Philosophize about me.

Obsess over me.

Get addicted to me.

Get over me.

Figure me out?

I have yet to find the one, or the many,

who have figured me out.

If I, Could I, Should I, Will I...

ever ?

How do you solve a puzzle with pieces of 12 different pictures?

How do you solve a riddle like the one before you, when the ones before her were so simple, yet here she stands, the complete opposite of everything you learned in your past experience?

How do you figure her out when she hasn't figured herself out?

And just when you think you've got it, she comes from way left field with a new wrench to throw into your plan.

Then you have to start from the beginning and its a whole new floor plan.

Can you build this structure?

Will it collapse around you?

Do you need the instructions?

What instructions?

Sorry, batteries not included, instructions lost in shipping, and the finished product is a mystery, who knows how it will look once your done.

Figure me out?

I hear talk about me being sensitive, insecure, unsure, indecisive, emotional, secretive, flirtatious, poisonous, gregarious, mean, rude, nice, sweet.

I've been the pretty poisonous flower you wanted to become addicted to.

I've been the "hoe" you label because you don't know any better.

I've been the lost soul desperately in need of you advice and guidance.

I've been the joke that you need when a smile is what you need to keep your sanity.

I've been the innocent little girl, who acted older than she was and made you forget that she was still innocent.

I've been the distant yet attractive constellation that passes you on occasion.

I've been the passionate and loyal homie-lover-friend when you needed me the most.

I have been. I can be. I always was.

Figure me out?

Ha.

Good Luck.

What Would Happen?

What Would Happen...

What would happen if I loved you?
If we took off our shoes and dived into the pool of hopelessness of a romance,
and never looked back for fear of missing what's coming next, would it work?
If I decided to meet you halfway between fact and realistic fiction, then we took off and created our own path just wide enough for the two of us
and if this path led us to believe that we were right for each other, what would you say?
How would it play...
out on the screenplay of our lives?
What would happen if I tossed my inhibitions in the trash and you took it outside to wait for the truck in the morning?
Would I wait until you fell asleep and run outside to rummage through the can for my fears?
Or would I finally have a good night's rest and wake up in your arms with enough strength to take my own trash out?
What would happen if you took a walk through the mystery of my sense of humor, and got lost in my eyes?
With no road maps and no street signs would you walk around aimlessly until your instinct led you to my heart?
Once you found it, would you still be lost?

Superwoman vs. Wonder Woman

Superwoman:

Everyone knows her, and she will always come to your rescue, if only you ask.

You see her with her cape on and that immaculate smile, and your heart melts because within it you know everything will be alright.

She is the shoulder you can cry on and the one to tell a joke afterwards.

Her essence however, is hidden.

What you see of her is not all that she is, and she prefers it that way.

She'll be long gone, aiding another by the time you realize that you know nothing about her.

Who knows what makes her tick, or why the life she leads is so fulfilling.

She has the weight of the world on her shoulders and she carries it like a light backpack.

With smooth long strides she gravitates towards the ones that need her most.

She knows that you need her even when you don't.

She'll go through the fire for the good of the cause.

She's Superwoman, and its expected of her.

Wonder Woman:

They call her Wonder Woman because you wonder about her mystique and its a wonder she can do the things she does.

Its a wonder that just as your mind begins to wander, there she is to catch it and cradle your thoughts leaving you attached to the wonder that is the woman.

She thrives on the impossible, and knows that although she may not be able to make it possible she'll try her damnedest.

No, she won't come to your rescue when you want it, but you wonder how she manages to show up just as you need it.

She'll never grow tired of the surprise factor, and you'll never grow tired of the excitement.

She's not always the one you need, but she can make you feel better.

You'll keep coming back to ease the pain.

She's unexpected, unabridged, and unlikely.

But you like that.

You wonder at this woman, and she herself ponders at her limitations.

She's Wonder Woman.

And you wonder why.

We Are A Family

Family. A word used excessively and guiltily. Why are we only family when you have a problem or need my help? Why aren't we family on good days when all is right with you?? If you bring drama and trouble into my life, I have to accept it because we're "family"?? I don't get it. My mother has always sheltered us from the "family" she grew up around because she didn't want us to sacrifice and suffer the way she did for that six-letter word. It means nothing if conditional. The four people who have always loved, cared for, accepted, understood, and respected me taught me this. I have no problem with the concept of family, and the love it brings. But only if its genuine. Family everyday no matter what the problem is or who is having it. Thats my fam(ily).

All-Stars

We run shit.

Like track stars underneath the friday night lights in a field of dreams.

Its our duty to make this look effortless...and we're good at it...admit it.

We prance around like we created cool, and your lives are highlighted by our grace, our precision, our style.

In our hearts we carry ambition and on our sleeves we carry labels.

With an impeccable record how else would you expect us to act?

Sauntering around on the ground you should be worshipping, we ooze confidence.

Heads to the sky like it would be painful to look you in the eyes.

We can't possibly be from around here...can we?

Of course not.

You can tell from the twinkle, as if we stole the stars just to dazzle you with eye contact.

We occupy our time expanding our minds and demanding the lime...

Light like the switch won't go off, cocky like we have it all to show off, smiling in your face just to piss you off.

We made the bar, and we set it so high, there's no use in reaching.

We are all-stars. And we don't lose.

(A special shout out to Colin Taylor for the photo.)

Trust

I can't help but feel like if I trust you, it still wouldn't be enough.

Trust wouldn't make you do the things you say you're going to do, nor would it put you in a position to trust me.

Trust wouldn't make this any better, trust would actually make it worse.

Trust is the fastest way to disappointment, and disappointment is a road I'd rather not travel.

To trust is to believe, wholeheartedly in another.

To trust is to be blind to the errors and follies of another.

To trust is to pretend all is well, when all is not.

If we decided to embark on this journey called Trust, the road would be long, the hills steep, the paths narrow, the predators vicious, and the end always just out of reach.

I wish it were as simple of saying I trust you and never meaning it.

I wish it were as simple as you make it seem, but I've danced this dance before and it feels as if I have two left feet.

It seems as if the beat is always a step ahead of the rhythm of my sway, and I'm tired of chasing it.

I wish most of all that my heart followed my head instead of the other way around.

If such were the case, trusting you would be the road less traveled, and I would know not what lies in it.

If such were the case, trusting you wouldn't be a battle I'd have to fight alone, I'd have logic and reason on my side.

If such were the case, I wouldn't have to explain why putting my trust in you is not what I want to do, I wouldn't have to.

But alas, here I am, fighting the urge to turn back because the future of this path is looking bleak, but at least I'm with you, and if I go back I'll be alone.

So we maintain this steady pace on the road to nowhere, and I follow you blindly...

I trust you.

The Friend Zone

Hate it or Love it?

Totally depends on which side your on right?

For those who may be a bit unclear...the friend zone is somewhat complicated. On the positive side of the spectrum, you put someone in the friend zone who you really enjoy as just a friend, but then you find out they want more than that. In order to preserve the friendship you explain to them that you'd like to remain friends. They have just entered into the friend zone. This may be a tad awkward though, depending on how strong the friend bond is compared to how strong the other person's desire to demolish the friend zone is. If there is a true friendship, then the person may not like being in the friend zone, but they'll tolerate it because they enjoy your company, and if you tell them about your other relationships, they'll probably be hurt, but will ultimately want to see you happy. Ultimately they hope that one day you will realize the folly of your ways, and take them out of the friend zone. That may very well only be wishful thinking...

Now the negative end of the friend zone spectrum is being placed in the friend zone. Anyone who's ever experienced it knows that, for lack of a better phrase, it sucks. Its like having something you want dangling in front of your face, and being snatched away as soon as you grab for it. Crucial because you refuse to warm up the slot machine, then walk away and let someone else win your jackpot, and pitiful because who wants to wait around for happiness to possibly knock on the door? And its especially terrible when you wait and wait for the opportune time to tell them, and your hoping more than anything that they feel the same way. Only to be rejected by the friend card. Its like standing in line at the club for hours and just as you get close to the door the party is shut down. How is one to move past the friend zone without being too pushy? How is one to stay in the friend zone and stay sane?

When the friend zone goes wrong...

You say "I really only see you as a friend..."

They say "just friends?"

And the awkwardness begins. The friendship soon will fizzle out, and what you thought was a true friendship was in fact nothing of the sort. This alternative is a lose-lose situation for both parties, and I feel for all involved. No fun.

Now...final strand of the friend zone. I'll call it illegal use of the friend zone. Now I won't say I'm not guilty of it, I think a lot of us are. When you use the friend zone as an excuse to stop unwanted advances, knowing full well you and the person weren't friends before and probably will never be friends. This is just misuse of the entire concept. The friend zone is not to be taken lightly. People can get hurt.

Silence

Silence...is what we ask for when the truth is unbearable.
When we don't want to know what we need to know, and we'd like to fall back on our "ignorance is bliss" pillow...

"Its a shame we don't talk anymore" is how he opens the conversation, leaving her stumped. How is she to tell him that the reason they lost touch is because his touch, lost its magic. She decides to remain silent, in hopes that her silence saves his feelings. He becomes inquisitive..."what happened to us?" Again, no reply. "Why aren't you talking? What's wrong?" he demands.

She'll try to gather the courage to tell him that nothing is wrong. That for once, everything is right. And that she wouldn't go back to the way it was for all the gold in the China. She'll try to be delicate and tender, to be thoughtful and sensitive. But she knows that once she begins to speak, there is no censorship. So she remains silent.

And he remains blind. One day he'll figure it out...
One day he'll realize that what he wants doesn't determine the lives of the people who surround him. And that when he decides to have his cake and eat it too, he decides in selfish ignorance and disregard for the feelings of others. One day he'll realize that he had a jewel, but hid it from the world, so it couldn't shine. One day he'll remember the day they met, and the look in her eyes that told him everything he needed to know before formal introductions. One day, he'll realize he lost one, and that day will be etched in his mind forever as the day he had an epiphany. That day he'll realize that it mattered...

That her silence spoke volumes...but by then...it will be too late...

The New Year

My Resolutions:

1. Get in Shape.

2. Stay in Shape.

3. Switch up the Swagg.

4. Read More.

Ok so the first two are something that I used to do, but don't anymore. Its about that time, I'm a big kid now. As far as switching up the Swagg goes, lowkey I don't want to unveil it in the blog. But when you see me you'll notice the difference. I'm just using the New Year as an excuse though. I've been wanting to switch up the steez for a while now. The last one is something that I love to do and don't as much as I'd like to. So yes, a bookworm is afoot.

This one's kind of short but ok...