The Lies "They" Told Me

They said I was pretty.
They said I was smart.
They said I was the one.
They gave permission to leave and a smile upon return.
He said you will be big some day, baby girl.
He said makeup was for white women, while the color of her face mimicked my own.
She had perfect candy apple red nails and he never let me see him smoke.
She never let me cry over spilled milk and he wiped my eyes when it was too strong to contain.
He loved unconditionally, while her love shined through.
She wept and showed loyalty to him as I grew stronger by watching.
He stayed unchanged and integrity full when movement would have been more pleasing.
I watched as the male heir took heart because of who God is in he.
She never let us hit the ground. He forced you up if it happened anyway.
They told me I would change the world, that the God that you are would only let you succeed
...he told me to define success.
They said I would do it with fail.
They pushed me to recognize the blackness while not letting it dictate your steps.
I am the gift that they brought and they are the manifestation of our Higher Power.
They are the love, the push, the deep breath in and the exasperated one out, they are the ones I know.
I am who I am, not because of them, but because they allowed the God in me to run free.

There Once Was a Girl

There once was a girl. The girl met a man. The woman was in love. "I found him", she'd say. "This is it", she'd yell. "I'm loosing it", she'd convey. They saw each other each day. She'd go in the night to make sure he was OK. "I knew love would find me". "I could feel him near and now he is here". He was strong and that excited her. He was smart and that intrigued her. His interest in her being overjoyed her. The pictures they took moved her. Noelani wanted to marry him for God-sake and yet it was all a big mistake. Well, not mistake, but a learned misstep and now she looks back and knows her own way... I am the light that I wanted you to pave and now my joy is always.

Fat cheeks and a Plaid Dress

I hung upside down with Ernest standing next to me. I was about 5. Sean wasn't here and life was good. My existence as a young kid was interesting. It, being the prologue to short story after short story, were continued reminders that its all just experiences rolled up in what sometimes looks like shit... and other times looks like chocolate. My extended family was as important to my upbringing as the ones who got me here.

It was a good 18 years, although an emotional wreck, but eh, what has changed in the last 7. I still cry if I'm caught up in my own fantasies, I get raging angry if someone crosses me the wrong way, I find the simplest pleasures remarkable and exciting, and I still look at women like they have grown a second head. Only difference is as a kid, I took it too seriously. Now, I know that none of it matters. Childhood for me, is that place I'd like to run back to. I'd give anything to be on my Ernest's shoulders just once more or Pamela be the team mom for OPAA. It's like one day, "they" made all your choices and then, without real warning, Pam and Ernie said, "the hell with you little girl, fuck off". I kid. The fact is, is that my mom and dad became consultants in my life about 7 years ago, after that place where I affectionately called Pamela, Santa and Ernest, the Tooth Fairy.

A Quick Diddie

Girl meets boy at 5
Girl sees boy at 23
Boy is too young to know greatness
Girl is too impatient to show him
Girl dates a boy in each borough
Boy is too young to know to grow up
Girl loves boy, but can't live in a basement
Boy thinks girl is crazy
Boy and girl can't get enough of each other.......................
Girl spends life in mental institution

How Do My Thighs Look?

OH MY GOD... I am going on a date. I know, its not shocking because I do hang out with friends/boyfriends/x-boyfriends/dudes I don't care for/myself quite often, but the onset of things unseen is so exciting.

Actually, I haven't "thought" about it much, you know what that means... A FUN TIME HAD BY ALL! I just want to buy a cute dress. Janette said that I should wear the launch dress with flats. I look particularly dashing today with my pencil dress on, but do I want to throw my big ass at the dude so quickly, probably not. On the other hand, my breast show threw in almost everything I wear. And my thighs, forget it. My thighs have a life of their own. I actually have named them. Joe and Joaquin. Joe is a little more tolerant. A little stronger, but hurts more when the day is too long. Joaquin is looser, but I don't know how. He thinks he is slick because his leg is a little shorter than Joe so he can get away with rubbing against shit to create a little thing we women like to call.... THAT RUG BURN. Damn!

Well, the summer is almost over and tights are coming back and therefore, (because there is a God), I will have a little less black rub and little more tight ass, better known as Sonya.

I'm hoping the ass and thighs work together as a cohesive movement tomorrow, so we all enjoy our evening. Me, Sonya, Joaquin and Joe. I'll get back to you.

... and the courage to know the difference.

Does any of it really matter? Do we have all of the tools we need in life when we get here? Are these experiences just reminders of what we already know? As I watch the inevitable and vibrant love come from the loved ones that has experienced the spirit of their grandmother move away, the endless "stories" I tell myself came to a slow silence. I was struck by the sense of those still here banning together and saddened at the same time. The husband. The children. The ones that will continue on with their name and how none of that matters in the moment when you realize that this form she was in, isn't indicative of the spirit you loved.

I was moved to tears, but reminded, yet again, that I am. I was reminded of how life experiences are just that. No more, no less. As I drove home last night with joy in my being and tears down my face, I was moved by the presence that is in all of us. Its almost unexplainable. There are almost no words to describe the awe I feel when realizing that I am unchanged by outside forces. They actually used to call me Darth Vadar.

I just sat in a peaceful place. I am light, I am centered, I am.

Thanks, God... this acceptance thing feels easy today... 'preciate ya'!! - E.

Don't Tell Me What To Do...

I'm pissed.

• Sarah Palin gets affectionately called a "pit bull" and Michelle Obama is more or less characterized as a bitch, (i.e. The New Yorker cover and Fox News). What the fuck is wrong with this picture? How is it possible that because of the color of her skin she is seen as "strong" and could "run a country"? BULL SHIT! Fine, if she could do the job of 5 men and her hockey, mayoral, and Governor of Alaska experience makes her capable, all hale Queen Palin. But for fuck sake, Michelle Obama expressed passion and she is the second coming of how "they" saw Angela Davis. I am fuckin' furious. This whole bull shit idea that "our", (using the word "our" so fucking loosely, I'm calling it a whore), country is still marching on the fight for women's rights. Well at what point did that fight leave black women behind. Or was it ever with black women to begin with? When did we become so idealistic that our very existence is tied to the backs of a man or the woman behind the man or the black man that may or may not be a great movement for our country. McCain, who is either brilliant or more separated from the community we call America than I originally thought, seems so disconnected from what is happening that I'm confused what he stands for. I was at a focus group for Raeven, last night. It was fascinating to see the movement and shift that is evolving in our world, NOT JUST OUR NATION... stupid(s). It is so annoying taking the high road when the low road is yet to be paved?
• I parked my car in front of the school again on Tuesday. They wouldn't have towed me as it was the first week of school. When I got home {the super} one had moved my car. I assumed it was because of alternate sides. When I came outside this morning he all but, (as I saw it), reprimanded me for putting it there because it would have gotten towed again. Don't tell me what to fucking do? I am a grown ass woman. I know what the deal is. Well... maybe I don't. After all, it did get towed before, but don't tell me what to fucking do. I know my shit. I'm not a child! And that is when it hit me. I am a child. I went back to that little girl who always wanted to tell those folks off who "did her wrong" and "tell my mom off when she would question my EVERY move", but couldn't, because who wants to get their teeth knocked out. There is something there, but the minute someone of authority crosses me, I feel enraged.
• God, don't tell me what to do! I want to love. I want to be rich. I want to be a success. I want to live near my parents. I want to be married. I want to be a size 8... maybe a 10. I want to be the cool girl. But all the while, you keep telling me that I am in love with I and success is how you see it and you chose to move your ass, (ok so God wouldn't say that), and you will be married when you let it go, and you are a size 14, get over it, and you are a big dork, let that go too...

Funny enough, I do want someone to tell me what to do or at least push me in the right direction. O.k., o.k., that is God's job, but is it me or does He need a vaca!

By the way, I love my life! LMFAO...

P.S. I still haven't spoken to the one with out a home... homeless guy... I don't like that. His home is Brooklyn. What other name can we call him? I should find out what his name is... O.k. I am done!