Sex and the Seven

Monday, February 14, 2005

Valentine's Schmalentines

Now, with that said this may be a day where you feel more like saying valentine, schmalentine than anything else cuz I know, for me, as I continue to get older, I realize that when ppl say "niggas are trifling," it's only the tip of the iceberg in describing the true essence of all the pitfalls that a nigga embodies. So, we can be ba-humbug and watch all the silly couples on their dates, so "in love" when clearly the nigga is taking "wifey" out cuz you gotta "take care of home," knowing good and well that he has Kima, Keisha, and Pam's number on speed dial and isn't about anything, or you could go watch a newer couple just dating and see the man and all his pomp and circumstance as he tries to secure his first lil sample of some booty in his very near future, first or we could laugh at the capitalism at it's best as retailers pump valentine's day up to get you to spend, spend, spend, or we could sit back with the one (ones) we love...ourselves, our families, our friends, our weed ( yes, i said it) and blaze one for the whole nation, cuz really, WHO CARES... as i type, and as you read, this day is winding, winding, winding down and then boop, good morning, it's feb. 15 time to take the cheap, bears-candy-hearts-and bullshit down from every grocery/7-11/gas station around and keep it pushing to the next major holiday retailers will try to milk. So, no....I'm not bitter; cynical (aka real), but not bitter. But for real, Valentine's, Schmalentine's. Is today Valentine's day?'s Monday.
Contribution made by a friend of the family! (Ms. Keep it Real Herself!)

Its the Little Things

As I sit at work on a dreary Monday morning, I choose to become distracted and write about all of the wonderful little things that have happened to me within the past week. The intrinsic forces of human nature most often compel us to complain and to gripe about things in our life that we cannot change (but wish that we could) and to neglect the little things that make life so wonderful and complete. For example, when a student's cell phone rang in the middle of lecture and my sixty year old professor began to flit across the room dancing to Lil Jon's "What you Gon' Do?" or when an equally old man in the airport began cursing randomly at the airport staff because he could not find "where the hell his gate was", even though it was written and highlighted in red on his plane ticket, or when a two-year-old got tired of walking and hopped on to the back of his mother's rolling suitcase, completely unbeknownst to her, smiling and waving as he rolled by, or when the beau in my life decorated his house with candles, roses and rose petals to show me just how much he really cared, I suddenly rememberd that life is not a cliche. It is not easy, it is not fair, it is confusing, it is frustrating, it is a challenge, it is a struggle, it is a joy, it is a gift, it is a privilege, it is an opportunity to experience every little moment in the best way you know how.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Hello my name is Doormat

Have you ever tried to explain something to someone in what seems like 1000 different ways and 1000 different languages? Have you tried to approach a recurring situation from a million different ways, and tried looking at if from all different angles? Trying your damnedest to understand it from another person's perspective? But in spite of all your efforts they can't seem to understand and properly address the situation? This is the problem that I'm battline with this week. My parents say, "You can't change someone else, you have to change yourself, because you are the only person you have control over." And while I have heard this since the day after I was born, I still can't understand why expecting reasonableness and demanding respect is synonymous with being a control freak. Now don't get me wrong, I grapple with an occassional surge of control freakism, I'll be the first to admit it. But I was taught to do unto others as you would like done unto yourself, and to at all times try to step out of your shoes and relinquish your feelings for a moment to consider how others may view a situation or other possible ways for it to be handled. But when does enough become enough and when have you left the realm of the fable's moral, and essentially placed a sign on your back saying "Take advantage of my kindness, abuse my consideration?" I'm here rambling because I often find myself inducing an out of body experience to try to ensure that I am, as the army would boldly say "the best I can be", but in this world it really seems like the kinder you are to a person the less likely they are to value you. Now I don't mean by any stretch of the imagination that people need to crawl around behind the people that do nice things for them proclaiming their greatness. But isn't it reasonable that if someone does something for you, that you to at least treat them with respect?

Friday, February 04, 2005

Just One of Those Days

..."When I wanna be all alone..."
Monica never lied.
As I sit here at work, shoulders slumped, hair tousled like a madwoman, there is half of my brain screaming T.G.I.F.!!! and then there is the other pms'ing part screaming EVERYONE GET BACK!!!
I would hate for our blog page to be one which continues to criticize men, but at times I wonder if they know how good they have it. Being a woman can drive you mad...think about...all of the emotions God equipped us with, all of the emotional baggage we carry, all of the responsibilities, and most importantly, all of the cramps.
When I was a little girl, my mother did everything she could to give me what I wanted. To me, this only seemed natural and was to be expected considering I was born (and still am) a black princess born by the ocean. Today each time she calls me it's like the sound of grace in my ears. I can barely even get up and get to work in the morning on time, let alone think about kids to provide for. But my mom always made it all come together for the sake of her children and as I get older I am just realizing what all this really means.
On a subconscious level, I cannot be defeated and I cannot give up because of my mother. She has never pressured me to be a millionaire, to be the top of my class, to have the perfect look, she has just wanted me to be me...whatever that meant. But because of her insistence in helping and guiding me every step of the way, each moment that I falter or hesitate, each moment that I do not assume I was born to be great, I know my mother would be disappointed. She would never tell me this, but I know she would.
So as I sit here with these ungodly cramps, waiting to be released from the invisible chains tied from my ankles and connected to the computer, I can't help but think about my mother. Then suddenly I am able to grit my teeth, extend my back, and compose myself. If she has done this for 23 years I can certainly do it for 3-5 days, cramps, bloatedness and all.