Thinking Kinky : The Nappy Haired Diva

Inside:To say that I feel high around you is dumbing it down it's more likeI feel consciously sedated, in 'twilight sleep' And I keep wondering when my body is going to get tired of keeping up with my mind as I go on this joyride with you You make me feel like Dorothy in Kansas, Your mental advances sweep me off my 8 1/2's with love, peace and laughs You employ my heart with a joy that has long been understaffed You're easy like nature and free like memories You ease my apprehension with discipleship and good intentions Not to mention you're just Fly The SkyGuy that caught my eye just one year shy of 15 Your stare was mean while you leaned up against the car chatting with your boys But the lady stayed poised because I enjoyed the attention and so began the invention of 'us' And I trust it. And so we descended down a concrete hill to fulfill innocent passions And in teenage fashion came a kiss Wet and long lasting And was followed by you asking when we wo

Trust must be earned Love must be returned Im a moth to a flame that always gets burned love sick til my stomach churns when will I learn? my rules were straight and narrow but the moment you got it slanted my feelings were exploited and you took my love for granted years and years of having the blues time to leave now your love's old news.

When I was about 14 my mother gave me a book called "Good Morning Holy Spirit". It was a Christian book that was aimed to keep believers in tune with God. It encouraged the reader to wake up each morning and greet God, allowing Him to play a role in your life each day. I still try to do that. Recently, I realized that another part of my life that I can certainly do without is heartache. Getting married and going through the motions of a divorce gives way to feelings that are far from pleasant. It's stressful, it's emotionally draining and it hurts like the dickens. With all of these aches and pains I still press on with my decision to end my marriage. My husband understands. For the first time last night, I poured my heart out to him, sobbed and expressed my pain. I told him that I loved him, but I could never be with him again. I admitted that I don't know how to be his wife. I admitted that I am petrified of being a single parent to two girls. I mourn

Usually I like to do the whole "thought provoking approach" when it comes to my blog entries but today, today is nitty gritty, down and dirty day. So Julia Roberts has another film out... I think its called Eat Pray Love (what kind of title is this?). Anyhow, the scenario is that a woman gets divorced, goes out and lives life. From what I hear, at the end of the movie she finds Mr. Right. (take a moment to absorb this information..... blink a few times.....then scroll down.) WHY? Why does this woman's happy ending have to include her finding a man? Are there not any happy women out there without men? Why do so many movies end with women finding men and then feeling "complete". It sends my inner feminist on a rampage. I know lots of women who were and are quite happy being single. This makes me so annoyed. I want to boycott the movie but I won't just becuase I feel it deserves to be subjected to my own interpretation rather than my ranting on account of someo

Kismet: The will of Allah; destiny. I don't believe in Allah but like muslims I do believe that my God's will triumphs over my own. So often I have heard people tell me that they prayed and God told them the answer to their prayers. When things seem to fall apart leaving only financial and/or emotional debris and confusion, one is left wondering if Gods "message" was lost in translation. So when I married what now seems like the wrong man for me did I hear from God? I thought I was doing the right thing. I even thought that the "signs" were pointing to him. However, it ends up that I was just trying to do the right thing. Did I learn from my failed marriage, absolutely. Could I have done without the pain and drama that came from our union? Definitely. Thing is when I met my soon to be ex-husband, I liked him. We hung out, we had fun, we had a good relationship. He professed his love for me and I decided to fall right there in it with him and we got pregnant

As I sit here blogging in the wee hours of the morning, I am feeling more satisfied at this very moment than I have been almost all day. The reason behind this-simply put is that I am doing something that I have a true passion for. I have been writing since the age of eight. I would scribe a short poem in my composition notebook and my mother would sit patiently as I presented it to her. She always encouraged me. Later, I wrote poems for year books, open mic, but mostly for my own pleasure. Poems turned into reports, short stories, a thesis here and there and unfinished novels. Writing has become an outlet, a talent, and a passionate part of my life. I enjoy sharing my thoughts with others as much as I enjoy creating characters and sharing their lives on paper. Recently, I submitted my resignation from a job that was stressful but met my financial needs. So... lets talk about needs. Needs are something that you can't do without. The body needs water, the forest needs trees, the tr

I had my first kiss when I was fourteen. For some that may be a little late but I was a duckling for a long time before I grew into the bomb shell that I am now (teehee). I had a friend during my childhood that I hung out with all the time after school. Being in her neighborhood allowed me to get to know a lot of the kids that lived there. At that age (8-10), we weren't interested in boys and so there was no reason to socialize with them. So, when my future first kiss was lighting "jumping jack" fireworks in the alley in my girlfriends neightborhood, I had no idea that there would be a fire between us just four years later. Funny how life works that way. Fast forward four years. I was fourteen and not too shabby looking. My mother told me that we were moving and lo and behold, we moved to my girlfriends old neighborhood (she had since moved out of state). I enjoyed living in the neighborhood and I enjoyed the attention I received when all of the guys that I knew when I w

"You are a man-hater!" I have been told this numerous times by an ex. Each time he said it, I would dramatically gasp, bat my lashes, and clutch my chest like a well groomed Southern Belle. How could he say such a thing? Truth is, I knew how. I have a really strong personality. A part of this is because I had no man in my home to keep me in my place as a young woman. So when I became a grown woman, I knew no boundaries. I refused to submit to my husband, and I often berated him as a man and spouse. I expected him to lead, while I constantly grabbed the reigns and expected him to snatch them away from me. Truth is, my dysfuntion is the only way I know how to function. I function according to relationships that have malfunctioned for years. What does this mean? I am infected with disillusion, cloudy conclusions and I've been using and abusing my parent's shortcomings as a crutch to stay in touch with so much bullsh*t that doesn't help me but instead hurts and I f

There once was a man who did what he can if you needed a hand, he'd lend it but there came a day where he had a few expletives to say this is a ballad about Steven Slater the Flight Attendant See Steven was a guy who'd often try to get the passengers seated but there was a lady on board moving on her own accord and her lack of action made poor Stevie quite heated So being committed to his career of six or seven plus years Steven tried to put her in her place but this here lady drove little Steven crazy when her bag knocked him square in the face See Steven after taking a bit of beating realized he's not so tough so he went to the intercom said some words that would shame his mom and basically said he had enough and after his tirade on that plane, he said that he finally quit but not before he opened the emergency door and slid right out of it What made Stevie snap, we'll never know but one thing is certainly clear Ste

I am finished having children. In fact, I blogged about this about... four years ago. If I ever meet a man (are then any out there?) that wants to have children... we will have to part ways because I can't help him. So here is a post from a blog I had four or five years ago: FRIDAY, JUNE 30, 2006 "Baby No-Like" Today, I had yet another near-fainting episode on the train. I figured I needed to eat some food to give me some energy. So, I had three donuts, an everything bagel with eggs and cheese, a tall mug of tea, and a slice of cantaloupe. No later than twenty minutes after my enormous binge, I was writhing in pain. My stomach felt like a man... stink nasty and helpless LOL. Men must hate me. Oh well. Anyway, as I was moaning in agony, all I could imagine was my daughter in utero kicking the heck out of me screaming "baby-no-like, baby-no-like!" It was as if she were punishing me for eating all the garbage I consumed. Sheesh. This is the LAST baby you hear me! m

Have you ever tried to be civil and the other person still acts like a d-bag? Maybe they are obligated by the D-Bag Creed to continue to act like a total jackass until communicated has ended. Either way, such dedication even to be a jerk has got to be admired. What's sad is when the person won't apply that dedication and ambition to things that really matter like work, communication, friendship, marriage, relationships, life in general, goals... you know, the little things *sarcasm*. So, how do we handle the D-Bags? Do we ignore them? Do we grin and bear it? At times we feel like returning each pained encounter with the D-Bag with our own version of D-Bag behavior. Most times we end up more annoyed because our effort to frustrate their D-Bag tactics ends up failing miserably. Normal people just can't go engaging in D-Bag Warfare. It doesn't work. We don't have the stamina or the creativity for it. My advice for all who are dealing with someone who seems to take joy

Dreamgirls was a successful Broadway play for years. It even made it's way to the big screen in 2006. Original headliners of the staged version included then little known Loretta Divine and now long forgotten Jennifer Holliday. Watching the performance of the then robust and popular Holliday allowed me to witness her successful portrayal of the scorned character Effie White. In a passionate performance she screamed, sobbed and belted the lyrics of "And I Am Telling You, I'm Not Going" in such a way that years later many have made a valiant effort to match her vocal bravado in singing the same song. Of those attempts, most have fallen far from the mark. With this knowledge, I wondered why was it that Jennifer Hollidays career didn't move much further beyond her Dreamgirls fame. Upon doing a bit of google research ( not the most reliable, but definitely the most convenient) I have found several theories as to why Jennifer Holiday's career came to a standstill

Okay, So I changed my Blog Title to Thinking Kinky: The Nappy Haired Diva. Why? Because I want to do away with the stigma of being nappy. I have locs in my hair. Locs in my opinion are nothing but long naps or tangles that are groomed into individual "locs" of hair. When I was a kid, I hated when someone told me my hair was nappy. I wanted sleek smooth hair like my barbies and instead I had wavy kinks all over my head. Now as an adult with locs, I have some friends that miss my permed tresses and other's who are madly in love with my auburn locs. The thing is, I really don't care how I wear my hair. My priority is for it to look GOOD. I had a friend who lost all of her hair going through chemotherapy after a diagnosis of leukemia. She wore her short and curly crop with grace and dignity and looked no less beautiful than she was with her thick almost waist long mane of hair. It was at that time that I had to wonder how I would have fared in such a situation. She never

Its no secret. I am a voluptuous woman. I was never as thin as most of my friends in High School and after birthing 4 children, my body has pretty much stood its ground after the fourth. I have lost 20lbs and it seems as if the 21st pound is completely out of the question. My body won't lose another pound. Not. One. So, I work out (sometimes), I eat right (most times) and I try not to think about how much I would love to be back in a size 9 (all of the time). Lately I give myself a break and go on a total PMS binge that involves consuming all of the comfort food I desire. Weeks later, I feel guilty and work out like a maniac to lose the three pounds I gained bingeing. This is not a healthy way to live, but it is still my life as it is now. I hope to change it. Some people are addicted to drugs. Others are addicted to sex (thanks to Tiger Woods, Eric Benet and the long list of celebrities who have pinned their infidelity on an illness). I am addicted to food. About three years ago

She wasn't all that good looking. She was average at best. She didn't put her rouge on like Ella kept telling her too. She didn't see the sense in it, "ain't no colored woman in the world turn red in the face like that, and they lips ain't that pink neither!". That was the way she seen it. There wasn't any point trying to make yourself look like some white woman when you have a face the color of rich soil. She let out a soft chuckle as she tore the husk off each ear of corn. That Ella was one pig sty short of a mess. But she was a good friend, a friend for all times kind of friend. Her smile weakened as her mouth fixed itself back into its familiar pout. Her legs were agape, and her long house dress hung low like a stage curtain. It had been almost a year since he had left. She finally realized he wasn't coming home anytime soon. She felt a tear well up in her eyes and her throat became tight. She clenched her jaw tight and focused harder on