When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong

There was a funeral held Saturday. Really, that should not be news as on average, 108 people die per minute; that makes for a lot of funerals and I am sure they are held pretty much six days a week. No funerals or weddings take place on Sundays; it conflicts with regularly scheduled Masses within the Catholic church. In any case, there was a funeral for a man that I knew way back when: before I was who I am today, before the Panel, before Nebraska, Married Man and Him. This man knew me when I was a lost soul wandering the streets of the city looking for a fix; this man knew me when I was “keeping it real” in the wrong way.

Keeping it real can be a good thing if done properly and responsibly.….you are being honest, expressing your opinion and all in a way that is designed to be productive and helpful. When keeping it real goes wrong, you are still being honest, but in a mean and hurtful way that usually ends up hurting the other person beyond belief and backfiring on you. Now that I am a woman grown, with some life experience under her belt and am somewhat responsible mentally, physically, financially and emotionally I would like to think that when it is time to keep it real, I do so in a proper manner. Not always, and I will elaborate on that in a future post. Does anyone remember the Dave Chappelle show? Of course he is best known for: “I’m Rick James, BITCH”, but he had a recurring skit called When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong, and it was some funny stuff. The chick who ended up in the prison fight all because a woman called her number by accident ( it WAS a wrong number), but old girl had a cheating man, a jealous streak and *69. Seems over the top, but after 15 years in the streets, I know truth is stranger than fiction and a code of the streets was to “keep it real” and Lord knows, it often went wrong more than it went right.

 It did not help that in the streets you really do not have friends. The present day name is “frenemies” but back in the day, there were no friends, only fiends with an “r”. Of course you warned others of the man in the car with a gun, or the trick who was a cheap ass bastard regardless of what he was promising or that the po-po was around the corner. What we did not tell you was when we had an STD and that was for a variety of reasons: you already knew (no one had secrets in the streets), someone gave it to me, so why not you and no way were you going to be with my tricks and take money out of my pocket. We did not tell you directly when you looked like or smelled like shit….we told others or talked around you if you were present as if you weren’t there. It was all part of keeping it real….you had enough of the story or were privy to enough of it to put the pieces together. No one out there was a babysitter or a therapist and if you put the pieces together wrong ( forget the fact that everyone’s thought processes are different), oh well. Live and learn.

I used to get high with a girl I will call “V”….she was a cool chick. She was decent looking but had a killer body. Seriously, I have only known two women with figures that made grown men stop dead in their tracks and “V” was one. She was not into the back stabbing and game playing and was a loner, much like me. She was living with two brothers; they worked every day and drank every weekend. They did not use the harder drugs and while it was a strange set-up (all 3 slept in the same bed) it seemed to work for them. They knew how “V” supported her habit and she kept it real with them: she had had a fucked up childhood, could get ghetto crazy and was a whore first and foremost. She would clean the house and cook dinner for them but she had to live her life her way. The brothers agreed and things were going well until  they had a friend over for cards and liquor one Friday night. Dude was drunk and loaded, “V” was there looking sexy and the brothers had gone to pick up some takeout for a late night snack. When they returned, “V” was doing dude in an upstairs bedroom ( NOT in the bed she shared with the brothers) and the fatter brother got insanely jealous after seeing “V” with another man. Their understanding, the truths she told…all left his head and he flew into a rage. He pulled “V” off of dude and literally threw her down the stairs and proceeded to beat the guy to a pulp. At the bottom of the stairs, “V” asked the taller brother to help her up: she was bruised, banged up and disoriented; the taller brother called her all kinds of horrible names, ignored her outstretched hand and told her to pack her shit and get the fuck out. When “V” asked what the fuck their problem was, she was told they were just keeping it real…except they weren’t. They were hit hard by the reality of their situation and reacted versus responded. “V” showed them what keeping it real was: she went back upstairs to pack her bags; got a bottle of grain alcohol from her drug paraphernalia bag,  then into the bathroom and grabbed a straight razor. When she stepped back out into the upstairs hall with her bag slung over her shoulder, she had the razor ready and slashed the fat brother’s throat so deep, she cut his vocal cords; downstairs in the living room, she threw the entire bottle of grain alcohol (over 180 proof) in the face of the taller brother and set him on fire with a match. Then she walked out the front door and never returned. Both brothers survived….scarred for life but alive. No one ever saw “V” again. She kept it real: she told them her lifestyle and she told them about her damage and her craziness…..yet, it went horribly wrong.

Sometimes, when keeping it real goes wrong, innocent people hurt and suffer because of it. When I was out there on the Avenue, there was a lesbian who tricked with men to support her habit. Others would call her a hypocrite or a confused bitch, but she kept it real: her personal preference was women, but women weren’t paying for head or to fuck a pussy…men were. Men were business, women were personal. I completely understood as I had had a relationship or two out in the street and tricking with men was my job and meant nothing; sex with my partner was all that mattered. I wasn’t cheating, I was supporting my habit. Lesbian Girl and I would hang out occasionally and I knew her mom and brother; eventually, her sexual escapades caught up to her and she got pregnant. It was not her first pregnancy nor her second….this was her 5th baby. She had never mentioned children before and you could have bought me for a penny when she told me. She never went to the doctor or the clinic; she continued to trick with as many men as possible; she continued to get high as if there were not a human life growing inside of her. Her mother allowed her back in the house so she could rest and bathe properly and she ate two meals a day: her mid-morning meal was always chicken with vegetables from the Chinese restaurant and a chocolate milk. Her evening meal was whatever her mom prepared for dinner that day. She limited herself to cigarettes after meals only and one beer a day….not a completely healthy lifestyle but keeping it real, it was the best she could do and  actually it was more of an effort towards doing the right thing than other pregnant addicts I have seen.  When asked what she was going to do with the baby when it was born (would her mom or other family raise it), Lesbian Girl stated she had a plan. She would sell her baby to The Ugliest Woman in the World for $100 cash and an 8ball of crack. Really she was not  The Ugliest Woman in the World, but she came pretty close. The woman was older ( late 40s), ugly and had no children. She had a different man every week and sold drugs and dabbled in being a pimp when big bucks were involved…..and pimping on the Avenue was not complicated. Men came to the crack house looking for women, and a volunteer would go out and scoop one of the girls off the corner. When big spenders came around The Ugliest Woman in the World, she saw nothing but opportunity and dollar signs: he would be spending all his money on her product, she would demand a finder’s fee for the girl, AND the girl would have to pay her for hooking her up. Ugly did smoke crack but it was not her drug of choice….she was an alcoholic and Schlitz Blue Bull filled her fridge.

The day came that Baby Girl made her debut and she looked exactly like her mother. Ugly had bought diapers and the neighborhood had donated clothing but there was no crib, no toys and no formula. She slept in the same bed as Ugly and her man of the week and from Day 1, the child was fed juice and beer. She developed normally ( as far as us higher than hell outside observers could tell) and when she was ready for solid food, she was on a diet of beer, juice, hotdogs and oodles of noodles. By the time the child was four, she could not count, did not know her colors or alphabet, but she could curse a blue streak and knew her brand of beer. The girl wore clothes that were clean and fit her, her hair was always combed neatly but she had never been to a doctor or a dentist and her teeth were stained brown and rotting. I wonder if she owned a toothbrush. Looking back, I wonder if the little girl was lonely….she was ignored and overlooked so often. Ugly fed her and bathed her, but pretty much her time was consumed with drinking and making a dollar. There were no other little children in the neighborhood, and while she was at an age she should have been in someone’s school or daycare, she wasn’t. I am not sure what happened to that little girl: Ugly moved to another part of town and I heard she passed away maybe 5 years ago from breast cancer. No word on the little girl and Lesbian Girl just got released from prison this past fall.

I wonder what would have happened if Lesbian Girl had not been so oblivious to what she was doing to a human life she brought into the world? If she had been able to keep it real with herself and see past her addiction and what she would get out of the deal, would Baby Girl have had a better life? Maybe put into foster care and adopted by a loving, drug free family, raised with proper nutrition and attention. Ugly…she did keep it real. She was out for a dollar first and foremost and her buying the baby was simply an investment in her future. Others say she loved the child, but I have her just not wanting social services come snooping around….love of a child requires sacrifice and she sacrificed nothing. Keeping it real may have damaged a child for life.

As for the man’s funeral this past weekend? I did not go; keeping it real, we were never friends. Occasional roommates and pass the time buddies, but not friends. His death only made me realize how quickly time passes and that we are all only getting older. It made me see that the people who comprise my past are fading away, and that one day I will be the guest of honor at a funeral. It did not make me sad….it made me realize I do not want to be remembered as a crack addict or a whore. I do not want the men I loved to think of me as that crazy bitch or the legacy I leave them will be one of panties, porn and medication I did not take as often as I should.  I do not want my family to remember me as the loner who kept in touch with only phone calls and emails and I do not want my friends to think of me as the sweet, wonderful girl made into a bitter bitch because she kept pouring her all into the wrong man. Keeping it real, it made me realize I need to get it together and get right with God and myself. I want to keep it real in the proper manner with myself and all I encounter; I want to get better and I want to heal.

Tomorrow we will learn fun facts about the Panel and later this week we will have A Ray of Sunshine and meet the Right Bitch on the Wrong Day. Until then….keep it real!

9 1/2 Weeks…Poor Man’s Edition

9 ½ Weeks is my favorite movie….if you are a regular reader you already know that. John and Elizabeth are real people to me, and their love affair tugs at my heart strings. After 16 million views, I am still begging her not to leave him and urging him to either speak up before she walks out the door, or to chase after her and tell her what she means to him; it seems as if everyone can see how in love with each other they are except each other. In the original 9 ½ Weeks, Elizabeth found herself giving all of herself to John, only to find herself unappreciated and taken for granted; however, John DID love her, he simply couldn’t express it in conventional ways. He was, after all, a Dominant and had been hurt in his past…no way could he allow himself to be seen in a vulnerable light. In the sequel (which I think no one has ever heard of let alone seen other than myself and Oscar), we find that John’s love has evolved into an obsession that was more than unhealthy: kinkier and kinkier sex with  prostitutes he called Elizabeth, traveling the world looking for her and purchasing her entire art collection just to have a piece of her;  when he was finally ready to let Elizabeth go (we find out she too had searched for the edge and intensity she had only found with John, turned to drugs and died of an overdose), the woman he found wanted nothing more than to be Elizabeth, and help him re-live memories rather than help him create new ones. The whole thing is complicated, twisted and unhealthy….understood by only a few.

 I always wondered what it would be like to have a relationship like that: to be consumed mind, body, heart and soul by someone. Him comes closest to all four…I am not sure about the mind part though. I have unanswered questions….from the beginning of the relationship to the end which beg me for answers but that is not him consuming my mind. That is me trying to make a way out of no way….that or either I have yet to fully accept the fact that I really will have to be the one to give me closure with very few puzzle pieces. I have found the more I diminish him verbally or via blogging, the more he invades my dreams….yet I have that being the emotions I am trying to suppress in an effort to rush through the loneliness of being rejected and having to cope with feelings of abandonment while being thrust into a very shallow dating pool. I have no idea what he and I had but I do know that there was period before the trip to Nebraska and right after Married Man and I called it quits that I had what could only be called a mind fuck.

In keeping with the anonymity of people other than myself, I will call this guy Tike. I call him that because he LOVED the movie What’s Love Got To Do With It (first clue) and always said Ike and Tina should have named one of their sons Tike (T for Tina and Ike is self explanatory). He could quote the entire movie verbatim and listened to Rolling on a River constantly, saying that song had his Daddy’s blood on it. He was younger (much), undeniably cute ( Morning Person said he was the first guy she did not have to wonder what I saw in him, at least on a physical level) and was incredibly self-centered: when I told him there was no “I” in team, he said maybe not, but there was “me”  (second clue). His idols were Huey Newton (founder of the Black Panthers) and Che Guevara, the Argentinean revolutionary. We met on an online social site and hit it off immediately. He was into 9 ½ Weeks, we watched the same TV shows and within 3 emails had exchanged phone numbers and talked for over 3 hours.

I was neither lonely nor desperate but I was ready to explore other men….all I had known was Married Man and the man’s constant hurtful actions and recurring rejection of me had me eager to see what else was out there on any level. I was ready for a man to be decisive, slightly forceful and completely attentive. Maybe it is true what Artistic One says….guys have a special radar that hone in on a woman’s vulnerabilities, especially after a breakup, as this guy seemed to know exactly what I was seeking. I do not recall telling him anything of the sort but somehow, he knew what to say and how to keep me hooked. We talked via emails all throughout the day and talked all night long on the phone. He told me I had beautiful eyes and was simply the sexiest woman he had ever seen. The constant attention was heady and intoxicating; the thought a good-looking, younger man could be so into me was definitely a confidence booster.

We had the constant talks for 2 weeks straight. We shared childhood memories, career goals, thoughts on babies (at that time, I was still considering children with the right person and duct tape and chaining the children to furniture was not part of my child rearing plan), and just silly “popcorn” talk. Eventually the talk turned sexual and erotic….and I wanted us to meet. We agreed on a typical first date: dinner. I was still working at the Island and again, the Panel was not yet formed: no Cuz, no Oscar and no Pregnant One and still in two parts. When I came to work wearing a gorgeous red dress that covered enough to make it work acceptable yet short enough to make Buddy and Chef do a double take (Tike had asked me to wear something to show off my legs), Girlfriend and Artsy Craftsy wanted to know what was going on. I gushed to them about Tike and they were so excited for me. Married Man is the one person no one was fond of and Artsy Craftsy declared anyone was an improvement over him; after seeing a picture of Tike, Girlfriend seconded the statement. Tike and I talked all day (I had even given up lunch with the girls to be available for our workday talks) and by the time 5pm rolled around, I was floating on clouds. I rushed (as fast as the metro would take me) to the restaurant and was actually 15 minutes early for our date….the only man I have ever been early/on time for. I waited for him to arrive….and waited and waited and waited. I was becoming bitterly disappointed as I thought he was a no show and becoming more pissed by the second. I really do not abide three things: stupidity, lying and game playing. But he showed up….finally and looked like he had just rolled out of bed! His hair was in a nappy afro and the man was wearing the exact same outfit as in his profile picture (I later found out his closet was filled with nothing but black shirts and sweaters and jeans). He looked as if he had put no thought or care into his presentation and here I was….dolled, decked and looking ready for the red carpet. The look of appreciation on his face quickly faded my anger and we had a pleasant dinner followed by a stroll through Union Station, holding hands and window shopping. We kissed goodnight and parted ways on the subway. When I got home, he called before I could tell my girls about the date and we talked damn near until dawn.. And I thought I did like him, but all I was really liking was being the one and only for someone. We had another date and this time, he DID stand me up. Again, I dressed the way he requested and was early for the date. Again, we had talked all day and texted my entire train ride….and then silence. I was pissed, hurt and disappointed and went home practically in tears. When he did call that night, I cursed him out and hung up and could not get any sleep until I took the phone off the hook as he called me every three minutes. When I woke up, I had 20 emails from him filled with explanations and apologies and I was happy again.

We fell back into our routine and when time came for my annual trek to the beach, I spent the entire ride down talking and texting with him. Morning Person and Busy Bee were totally ignored except when he said something I found really funny. I spent my time in my room on the phone with him and I discovered that he really was not a caring person. One morning in the hotel, I showered and was walking into the bedroom area to get dressed and my wet feet slipped on the tile flooring and I fell. I was bruised and a little sore but nothing was broken. When I called him before leaving out, I told him what had happened and his response was: You still gotta get on stage, Annie Mae. Yes, he was calling Annie Mae and STILL I did not see the connection. When I tried to tell Morning Person and Busy Bee about my fall, it fell on deaf ears. I had pretty much pushed them and everyone else to the back of the bus and they had found a way without me and I was a little miffed, but when I got another communication from Tike, I was all better. We were planning another date and this would be the one where we consummated the relationship…..and I was excited. His kisses, the erotic communication and my own imagination had me more than ready to see what lay beneath those clothes.

So the big date arrived: I had bought a new dress for the occasion and had cleaned my house from top to bottom. I took the day off so I could get a pedicure and do an apricot scrub on my face. We met at the restaurant (I was early, he was late) and of course, he looked again as if he had just rolled out of bed but I did not care. I was going to have sex with him that night and you could not tell me that the sex would not be spectacular. I do not even remember eating dinner….I remember the cab ride to my house (I paid; I felt it was fair since he paid for dinner) where we were cuddled up and he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I remember calling my mother to let her know I was home safely and calling Busy Bee and Mini-Me to tell them he was IN MY HOUSE. I remember us listening to music ( I had a defective stereo system at the time; he kept asking how bad could it be….he found out) and kissing. I remember me running my hands through his hair and him undressing me. We climbed into bed together, snuggling, kissing and running our hands over each other’s bodies….and not having sex. We spooned and slept all night long; in the morning I cooked breakfast while he showered and we looked for some lingerie for me. He was going to a cousin’s BBQ that afternoon and said he would be back to see me afterwards and we would see what the other was made of. I kissed him goodbye and when he walked out of my door, he walked out of my life.

Tike never called back, and when I called him the phone went straight to voicemail. When I logged into the social site, he had removed his profile. I knew where he lived but had not yet honed my stalker skills. I am not going to lie….I was crushed. Over two months of constant talking, dating and attention; there were no arguments, no other people…WHAT happened? Morning Person and Girlfriend put it down to youth and immaturity. Busy Bee and Mini-Me could not believe we never did the deed and Artsy Craftsy trotted out her it’ s okay speech.  To this day, I have zero idea what happened but I do know there were too many signs that this would not be something long term or lasting. I do know that I did not like him the way I thought I did….he caught me at a vulnerable time and gave me what Married Man couldn’t…undivided attention. His dress and appearance were not what I was used to in a man….he was not pressed and neat looking, so in at least one area, I would have been settling. The fact that a movie about a woman’s abuse at the hand of a coward was his favorite was probably an omen. I cried for two weeks and fell into a mini depression…then I discovered that he had resurrected his social site profile under a new name (this site shows/tells you who has viewed your profile) and that he was talking to a chick I will call BabyPhat who looked pretty much like me! I was done at this point and was ready to reach back out to Married Man. I was receiving no male attention and I needed to feel wanted, desired and validated.  Him/Big Poppa asked what was wrong as I was no longer happy and laughing in the office…I told him my romance was over and I was going to return to the Married Man and he sat me down and told me I was worth more than that. I just looked at him and told him easy for him to say….he wasn’t the one going home to an empty bed and an empty life.

 And that empty life is one I created for myself. I had no balance and pushed true friendship aside for something brief and fleeting , all for selfish reasons. I wanted someone or something to validate me and really a man cannot do that. I do know now that validation comes from you and your self esteem. I know now I am needing to repair that within me as I still feel that however a man treats me is okay as long as I get something other than a wet ass out of the deal. I have not talked to Tike again….he is still on the social site as am I. He still views my profile and every once in a while I wonder how good he would have been sexually, but that’s it. I never loved him and the infatuation I felt was for a love affair with attention. He was simply looking to exert his need for control and I was a willing victim….there is no great love story here, no fireworks and no happily ever after….hell, not even a happy ending. Just a poor man’s (or lonely woman’s) version of a movie not many understand.

Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand

Two things about the title: first, it is long as hell, so I am shortening it to Phone Booth throughout this post. Secondly, if you have been following the blog over the past week or two, it may sound familiar to you. It is the title of a song by Primitive Radio Gods that is pretty much #1 on my current Soundtrack of my Life playlist. Also, I know I promised you guys this post on Monday morning, but out of nowhere a wild hair  crawled up my ass and it actually got to the point I could not blog straight. I guess Morning Person was right about a bad day coming and anger had me beside myself….sleepless nights, visions of horrible deaths for Him and shaking with rage and emotion. So, I am making no apologies…I am  more than a day late and a dollar short; not only with you guys but all the way around. Besides, if I did this when I was wrestling with the anger and hurt, this would be some huge Hate Letter to Him and we are trying to stay away from negativity, although the missive to him has been revised and my finger is itching to hit the send button but I am exercising maturity and self-control.

The Phone Booth song….I have told you guys it is all about irony and what if all was good went bad, but I am not here to analyze the song. In addition to the hook, it is the title that sticks in my head. I mean, what the HELL is that supposed to mean? And to me, it means….it just isn’t going to work and it is not you, it’s them. I would like to think I am correct in my presumption (notice how I avoided the use of the word “assumption”?) as the song preceding this one on the album is titled “Motherfucker”.( For anyone interested in checking the album out, the CD is titled “Rocket”) So yeah, I think the Phone Booth title boils down to it just won’t work….you have all that is necessary to make the phone call: you, a Phone Booth and money in your hand….and the bitch is broken. It isn’t you….it’s the Phone Booth.

The thing with broken Phone Booths is….you don’t know they are broken until you are actually inside of them. They do not have signs or warning labels to let you know they are in need of repair. You have to actually stand inside of them to see the damage; sometimes the receiver is completely ripped off the actual phone or the slot that takes the money is sealed over and will not accept your coins, so that damage is easy to see and you pretty much leave the Phone Booth immediately as no way can you make a call with no receiver. Those cases are rare, though; usually, there is a receiver. In some instances, you pick up the receiver and if there is no dial tone, you jingle the handle/lever, hoping that will remedy the situation. And people never jingle the handle/lever once….we jingle, jingle, jingle….hoping to get a dial tone…and finally, we give in and look for another Phone Booth. However, the broken Phone Booths most people run across look fine. There is a receiver, and a dial tone. The booth is clean and comfortable and we deposit our money….to get nothing. The dial tone is still a monotonous buzz in our ear, and when we go to get our money back….we get nothing. So, we dig in our pockets and purses for more money because the phone HAS to work. It has all the parts necessary to make it work…..hell, we even got a dial tone! We do a check of the receiver, the handles/levers, and because we are still getting a dial tone, deposit more money into it….and again, no call goes through and we are wondering why. It never occurs to us that the phone is broken….on its end, there is no sign telling us it is out of order, it has working parts and a dial tone. On our end, we have money and a viable phone number…so what is the problem? So we step outside and try to figure out an alternative….but by this time, the phone has our money and if it is not going to give us a refund, it is damned sure going to complete our call and we re-enter the Phone Booth. An almost comic cycle we repeat and repeat (seriously, how many times does it take for us to realize the phone is broken?) until we are either broke or finally get a clue and decide to either try another Phone Booth or just forget about making the call.

Some Panel members are dealing with broken Phone Booths…they are standing outside of them, money in hand and wanting to make the call…but they can’t. So in no particular order, here is what me and some other Members are going through and what we plan to do about what just isn’t going to work:

Cuz: I love Cuz….he knows it, you guys know it…everyone knows it. He is my ride or die, the one I can call at 1am when the night is too long and cold. He is the one I can share my political views with and I am the one who knows the really deep, dark twisty things inside of him. Yet, there are times I am looking at my phone, staring at an email he has sent or looking him dead in his face and wondering if he isn’t one of the broken Phone Booths. Granted he is damaged (as we all are) but sometimes….I wonder. He is still in the middle of his hallway but he is not just stuck…he is stuck and stalking. He is plotting and planning vengeance against the One Great Love AND her mama. He has stepped away from his broken Phone Booth only to figure out a way to get it to work. He has some Pinky and the Brain shit going on and he is patient…which is a dangerous combination. He has not released his hurt, pain or anger….he is hoarding it so when he does see the One Great Love face to face again…..he can let loose and FINALLY teach her a lesson. In the meantime, he has recycled an ex…..she is sweet, eager to please and gives him free rein over her house, car and finances. Hell, she would let her tongue be his toilet paper if he so desired. No one likes her and she is sneaky….he always gets ill after eating her cooking and not like Oh God…she cannot cook. He is physically ill, in pain, weak and lethargic. He is abusive as hell to her (verbally) and they have had some rough and tumble moments which ends with him leaving and her crying. But he thinks it can work this time…why, I have no idea. That chick is another broken Phone Booth, he is probably one himself and neither of them have processed or moved on….she waited I do not know HOW long for his return and he is so consumed with thoughts of One Great Love, I am surprised he does not call this chick the Love’s name. So yeah, I think Cuz is a broken Phone Booth with a broken Phone Booth waiting on a broken Phone Booth to return. No way will any of this work out to anyone’s satisfaction.

Oscar: My thought on Him, Jr. is that he came from the factory broken. There is no other reason or excuse as Oscar is his first in all ways. Granted they were both young and probably all he has learned about love, sex and respecting a woman comes from music videos and the boy’s locker room, but his mixed signals and unwillingness to commit after committing himself to a lifetime of fatherhood (which he begged for) are mind boggling. He and Oscar were at an impasse for months…..he berated her and yelled at her in front of Miss Minor, shared intimate emails Oscar sent him expressing her love, hurt and confusion with Miss Minor and pretty much the two disintegrated into one word texts once a week concerning when he would get the baby. The 2010 holiday season was Oscar’s first without Him, Jr. and she was a wreck. She no longer has distractions and whether she wants to or not, she is processing and really, I am learning a lot from her about letting go, ignoring the bait and realizing that there is a line between living a life and what is meant to be will be: you do not sit around and wait and wait and wait…..you live your life and if the paths meet again, take it from there. So she is doing an EXCELLENT job of handling her broken Phone Booth. She is standing in front of it, change in her pocket and figuring out which direction to go in …..and the Phone Booth that took all her money and would not let her make call the first….is ringing. Oscar says the ringing is driving her crazy….NOW, Him, Jr. is calling her just to talk. He is working on Father of the Year award and is having deep father/son talks with Oscar’s dad. Miss Minor has not been mentioned and Oscar is afraid to ask what the deal is….for the first time in a long time, it is almost the way it was before. No, there is no sexual talk or even talk of I miss you….but the connection is still there and her love is still in place. There could be an ulterior motive behind his acts of kindness, but right now, Oscar does not want to know. She wants to take each moment that there is no fighting, cursing and threats being made….and live in it. She is going to be patient, keep her money in her pocket and see if a repair crew has come through to fix to this particular Phone Booth.

Bell Pepper: I know you guys are asking yourselves…who the hell is Bell Pepper? She is our newest addition to the Panel…the one I blogged about in Apply Within. In that post, we were calling her Proud Mommy, but we are about to have a New Mommy and that was too many Mommies. Since a Panel name has to incorporate some aspect of a person’s habits or personality….we voted and Bell Pepper was the winner as the child eats them like apples. Besides, it is cute and different. Bell Pepper’s Phone Booth is different…..it has a repair sign on the front of it, but Bell Pepper still wants to place a call. She has not placed a call in quite awhile and yes, there are other broken Phone Booths on the road behind her that will allow her to make a call, but their calls are too expensive to make, and she runs the risk of being disconnected mid-conversation. There may be fully functioning phone booths on the road ahead, but so far, none are in sight and she is unsure which direction  to go in to find one. This broken Phone Booth claims not to be too badly broken….the sign is in plain view for her to read; it just needs a slow and gentle touch and says a repair crew is en route to not only repair it but upgrade its features. Bell Pepper knows that she runs the risk of losing money, and a short conversation if it will allow her to make one at all, but she feels that it may be worth it; you never know until you try and a short conversation is better than no conversation.

Me: My broken Phone Booth is in such a state of disrepair. It is rusty, the receiver is hanging on by threads and at this point in time, I have no more change left to put in it. It has resisted repair crew after repair crew and now I am standing in front of it, looking for a direction to move in. There may be someone in the booth making calls, but I doubt it. If it was broken for me (and it was broken before I stepped into it; now it is completely broke down), I have it being broken for anyone who comes along behind me. I am no longer interested in making a call…not with this Phone Booth or another one, but I admit, it would be fun to jingle a handle/lever or two. I do not want to leave this Phone Booth, but it is now an empty shell, offering nothing. No shelter from the rain, no dial tone, no nothing and all I can do is leave it be.  I have plans to be social (for the next two weeks!)  and get out and see what other Phone Booths are looking like. Perhaps I will pass this particular Phone Booth again on my journey; it may be repaired or willing to allow itself to be repaired or it may just stand there until it rusts away. Who knows? All I can do is make sure I have change in hand to make a call when I come across a Phone Booth willing to make and complete a call and let me talk as long as I want.

And that is my take on broken Phone Booths and a song title that no one who reads this blog has ever heard of. Kind of like having a cigarette and no lighter….frustrating and ironic as hell. I will be back in a day or two to tell you guys about 9 ½ Weeks ( finally!) and after that…we are going to meet the Right Bitch on the Wrong Day. See you soon!

Let’s Visit Nebraska!

Nebraska. When one thinks of vacation destinations, I am sure Nebraska ranks in the bottom five…every time. I have anyone who has actually vacationed/visited this state describing their trip thusly: Saw lots of corn and lots of farmers.  That’s all. And while this blog post is not even about Nebraska the State, here are some fun facts lest we completely bash and dismiss our 37th state (admitted to the Union in the year 1867):

  • Omaha, Nebraska is the birthplace of Fred Astaire and Gerald Ford ( born Leslie Lynch King, Jr.). Ford is the first and only US President to hold the office without actually being elected either to that office or the Office of the Vice Presidency
  • Omaha is  home to Boys Town, founded in 1917 and home to Lied Forest, the world’s largest indoor rainforest
  • Also, Omaha is the city where Marlon Brando’s mother gave acting lessons to Henry Fonda
  • Kool –Aid was invented in Hastings, Nebraska and the 911 Emergency phone system originated in Lincoln, Nebraska
  • Nebraska was the first state to complete its segment of the nation’s Interstate Highway system
  • Arbor Day originated in Nebraska City, Nebraska
  • Nebraska is home to the world’s largest coffeepot and the world’s largest porch swing…it can hold up to 25 adults

So see, I am educational and entertaining…I’m wonderful. Now, on with our story….back in the days when Him was simply Boss or Big Poppa and the Panel had not yet formed (they were divided into Island friends and Social friends and Cuz, Pregnant One and Oscar were not a part of us), I was single and loving it. I was shed of Married Man and my own version of 9 ½ Weeks (we will talk about him in a day or so) and had embarked on the Craigslist Experiment: different dates pretty much every day of the week (for lunch and dinner), extra spending money and was seeing what the world had to offer. It offered me Nebraska. His name is not actually Nebraska (actually, he and the guy from my 9 ½ Weeks experience had the SAME name) but this dude was here on business and lived in Nebraska. Since I was no longer uttering the name that he shared with his predecessor, I called him Nebraska from the start. He was looking for company to ease his lonely evenings and was most interested in BBWs, especially a black one as he had never had an interracial experience. I was bored and responded, sending a picture along with it. He found me pretty, sexy and funny and next thing you knew, I was on a train headed for the suburbs.

The guy was cute…actually cuter than his pictures suggested and he met me at the subway station; we walked to his hotel and somewhere along the way, we held hands. I found this cute and endearing….until that moment, I had never really held hands with a man. Once in his room, I saw he had “set a mood”….low lights, covers turned down on the bed and a tray with strawberries and chocolate sauce. We sat, we fed each other fruit and talked….he was younger than me by a good 15 years, was in the banking industry and was in town taking a class on banking rules and regulations. He had limited experience with people of other ethnicities and found me amazing. While I did not feel connection or chemistry, there was a definite attraction, and our first kiss…definitely worth the trip. I am a very oral person and I LOVELOVELOVE to kiss. I know I am a good kisser, and if a guy is a good kisser as well….seriously, I can consider it foreplay and be more than happy with it.

The kissing got serious, breathing got heavy and clothes came off. He was a husky guy (and I like a guy with “pudding”….I need something to hold on to and make me feel warm and protected and safe) and while not “hung”, was very eager to please. I will also say I am not a size queen….as long as you know how to work what you got, we will get along fine. He was fascinated by our skin color contrasts and was very much into body part worship. He wanted to see me, taste me and explore every part of me. He was the first and only man I have experienced 69 with and he was the first and only man able to control his orgasms with me….he would get to the edge and pull back; worship me some more, and then start again. We took breaks, jumping up and down on the bed like kids and he stood me in front of a mirror, letting his hands trace the outlines of my curves. We did so much in that night…..it was the perfect one night stand. We talked, laughed, experienced new things and the best part? No worries about attachments because we had separate lives a good 1,000 miles apart. We kissed goodbye, I went home and had a relaxing, peaceful Sunday, remembering what a great time was had by all.

On Monday, when I reported to the Island, everyone could tell something had gone down. I told Girlfriend and Quiet One all about it….Girlfriend was excited; Quiet One was just glad I was okay…she has never approved of online dating. Artsy Craftsy saw me and demanded to know what did I do over the weekend….I was happy, calm and for once, not fussing or cussing over Big Poppa/Him loading me down with work and changing his priorities every 5 minutes.  Before this revelation, Artsy Craftsy and I weren’t close…we were pleasant, cordial and had the general conversations about weather and fashion…but this is the conversation that made us friends. Her eyes got wide, she blushed and giggled. I think at that time, I was doing the things that no one else would dream of and definitely, Artsy Craftsy was getting a vicarious thrill from it all. She did not start worrying about the Experiment until it crossed the line into “part-timing”, in which I was receiving allowances from Daddies and donations/”roses” for my services. In any case, on that Monday, Nebraska sent me an email…..he wanted to see me again. He could not get the thought of me and my talents out of his head, and I have to admit….he was the best sex to come my way in a long time….so I said yes. I agreed to meet him after work…and therein lay the flaw….truly, they are called one night stands for a reason.

I know now that sex based on attraction alone cannot be duplicated…there HAS to be connection and chemistry for it to be mind blowing every single time and I had none of that with Nebraska, but our eagerness made up for that fact. We were kissing before I could cross the door sill and he practically pulled my clothes off me. He was already naked…..and we fell into the bed filled with desire. However, I am not sure if it was the fact that I had worked a full day and had been awake for over 12 hours, or that I was hungry (lunch had been at noon and it was after 6) but I do know I was happy when he finally finished. Not that I did not get mine….I was just ready to leave as soon as I got mine. We talked a little about our respective days, and what was on our agendas for the next day. While I was dressing, he told me he had fantasies he wanted to act out….maybe restraining me, blindfolding me and him being blindfolded. I jumped on it….not only was I curious about it and other things I had been reading about on Craigslist (Urban Dictionary is my best friend), here was a chance to safely explore. I was a novice, he was a novice…no expectations and the trial and error of learning could be equally shared. So we planned for Day 3 of what was supposed to be a one night stand.

The next day at work, I was tired. I had gotten home around 9 the night before, and after eating, making phone calls and answering emails, preparing for work the next day (I HAD to iron that outfit) and not hitting the bed until midnight….I was wiped. Big Poppa/Him was riding my ass over some proposals, accounting was looking for me to provide with some client info and supplies needed to be ordered. Married Man was calling, trying to plead his case and I was pretty frazzled. At lunch, I showed Girlfriend and Artsy Craftsy the toys in my purse and we all had a good laugh which helped to restore some balance to me. Then Nebraska emailed to say his class was running over and he would not be available until 7ish, which put me in a quandary. I got off work at 5, but I could stay an hour over and get caught up on some stuff or grab some dinner. We were spending two hours together, which meant I would not see my house until 10:30pm at the earliest and all I wanted was a nap. But, the thought of being blindfolded and restrained was exciting and really, who knew when I would be able to safely explore these things again? I ended up grabbing a soup from the café before they closed at 4 and stayed over an hour to try and get a jump on the next day’s tasks and was more than happy when I exited the train at Nebraska’s station. However, when I got to the room and knocked…..there was no answer. I was not worried or wondering where he was…I was pissed and ready to head back home. With a man I do not care about or love, I am not waiting around or making excuses. He fucked up and I was not waiting around to hear why he did, but as soon as I made it back to the elevator, Nebraska was getting off….and we went back to the room.

Definitely, an experience to remember: being restrained to the headboard and blindfolded while he did what he wanted to my body…..Sweet Jesus. The man used ice cubes, feathers to tickle me and his tongue….it did things to me. I will say this….if it weren’t for the props and the newness of the restraints and denial of at least one of my senses…it would not have been as exciting. This is what I have learned since the days of Nebraska….if there is no chemistry or connection and the relationship is purely sex based (as far as I know, we had no common interests and conversations were general at best), the sex has to become more and more intense to recapture the intensity of the first time; there was no desire or passion or even an interest in our partner’s pleasure…we both were doing what we did for our own selfish purpose. When it was over, we were laying side by side in bed (we had not cuddled since the first night) and I asked him had he had dinner. The reaction I got pretty much let me know that men do not hear what women say….he started yelling and hollering that we weren’t supposed to be getting attached and we both knew there could be no commitment. Hello….I asked had you eaten dinner, not that I wanted to marry you and raise mixed babies that would eat lots of corn and watch tons of college football. Hell, I did not even suggest we eat dinner together! I told him I needed to go as it was going to be a long day tomorrow and to have a safe trip home. We kissed goodnight and what I thought was goodbye…..and I left.

Next day at work, the tiredness was visibly showing….the constant sex had me walking funny and my glow from Monday had long left. Even Him noticed I was looking a little rundown and asked me was I okay. I told him I was fine….Girlfriend was surprised. She told me I should be glowing and happy. I told her I was older than she thought and Artsy Craftsy was laughing at how I was walking as if I had spent 3 days straight riding a horse. I do remember thinking all I wanted was for the day to end….I would go home, take some pain meds and sleep. However, Nebraska emailed AGAIN….he would be leaving to go home in the morning, and wanted to see me one last time. He apologized for tripping the night before and wanted to end things on a good note….so I once again agreed. I KNEW better….but I am a people pleaser and did not want him thinking ill of me. So once again, after work, I was on my way to the hotel. And it was a bust….I had no idea what to say anymore as I felt he would take anything I said as a plea to stay or take me with him; he was awkward and we did not do anything. Clothes stayed on, we made strained conversation and within a half hour, I was ready to put him on a plane and take my ass home. So once again, we kissed and agreed we had had a seriously good time and that was the end of us.

I learned a lot from this experience, but I never knew how much until I wrote it down for you guys. One night stands are just that; things that are good can really never be duplicated, but things that are real can. Nebraska and I had a good time….we should have left it at the one night. In not doing so, it disintegrated into something that I have no desire to repeat, but obviously he thought differently. The man still emails once in a while and has been back to town at least twice since our encounter; he wants to see me, he misses me…..but I find no need to travel back out to the suburbs. Of course the thought of good sex makes me want to say yes, but when I play the tape all the way through, it was not that good and afterwards….I do not want to feel like some unwanted intruder in his space. Hell, at the very least I want someone who would not mind sharing a meal with me without it being some huge deal or thinking it is the first step to getting married.

So this is my trip to Nebraska….like the state, not much to see or do and you can overdose on the one good thing there is to do. We are going to find out about the Phone Booth tomorrow ( promise) and then we will find out what I did for 9 ½ Weeks. Enjoy your Sunday, people!

Seven Deadly Sins

Author’s Note: This may very well be the longest blog post to date. You have been warned.  

I know I have not blogged, and I apologize. The pain is persistent and I just can’t seem to shake it. However, I still need to live my life: work, dinners out/socializing (two days in a row!!), domestic duties. It takes a toll on a girl…and to top everything off, I am missing Him so much…so, so much. Random memories are coming at me out of nowhere: our kisses, his corny jokes, the time we stood in the hallway outside my apartment listening to my neighbors argue. I remember his encouraging me while I was working for the Craziest Bitch in America, holding hands while riding in the car and nicknames. I am not broken down and crying, but the memories are bittersweet. Artsy Craftsy is all mushy over it (she’s hugging and saying Awwww), Pregnant One is hoping that it does not shake my resolve, Chef and Cuz understand and Morning Person says a bad day is coming up fast. I told her it was a sad day, but we all know by now that a sad day turns into a bad day REAL quick over here, so I decided to blog this out now before that bitchy missive I wrote lands in his inbox. I know I said no negativity this year, but those who know me know I have one last good cursing out just waiting for his ass. So, I am apologizing again because our trip to Nebraska is postponed by at least a day; the Phone booth will not reveal any secrets today. Today, we are going to talk about sin.

Sin. We all commit them, we do not all confess them. Even when we know it is wrong to do certain things, we do it anyway. U2 put it best: “how sweet the sin; how bitter the taste in my mouth”. History and the Bible tell us that while there are thousands of sins, seven of them are deadly…resulting in spiritual, moral and even physical death; and regardless of how agnostic you are, everyone knows that there are seven deadly sins, ten commandments and twelve apostles. I am going to talk about the seven deadly sins as it relates to my fiasco, the process and the places it takes me because upon review of these sins, I think I am committing a good 6 ½ of them. Note that the sins are not listed in any particular order, but I most identify with lust, pride and envy.

Lust: Lust is usually thought of as excessive thoughts or desires of a sexual nature. Aristotle’s criterion was excessive love of others, which therefore rendered love and devotion to God as secondary. In Dante’s “Inferno”, unforgiven souls of the sin of lust are blown about in restless hurricane-like winds symbolic of their own lack of self control to their lustful passions in earthly life. Well, definitely one aspect I do miss with him IS the sex, and Lord knows, I have lusted after this man for years. Even now, thoughts of him can drive me into a sexual frenzy that lead to weekends in bed spent with porn, imagination and memories. I am not sure if he has replaced God as #1, but after five months apart and a BTH, he STILL has a hold on me so strong and sexual, he has gained a definite lead over my concern for me and my welfare, and isn’t that just as bad?

Gluttony: Derived from the Latin gluttire, meaning to gulp down or swallow, gluttony  is the over-indulgence and over-consumption of anything to the point of waste. In the Christian religions, it is considered a sin because of the excessive desire for food or its withholding from the needy.  I am not sure this applies to me, but with my emotions see-sawing all over the place, I do indulge in more smoking than ever. I am up to almost 2 packs a day, and while I have managed to rein in my eating habits  (thanks to depression and abdominal pain), I will still indulge in binge eating to the point I feel miserable and all I want to do is puke and lay down. On a side note, it is considered a virtue and a sign of self-control to not give in to temptation….and only now have I started exercising a semblance of self control when it comes this fiasco.

Greed/Covetousness:   Like lust and gluttony,  greed is a sin of excess. However, greed (as seen by the church) is applied to a very excessive or rapacious desire and pursuit of wealth, status, and power. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote that greed was “a sin against God, just as all mortal sins, in as much as man condemns things eternal for the sake of temporal things.” In Dante’s Purgatory, the penitents were bound and laid face down on the ground for having concentrated too much on earthly thoughts. Okay, I could NEVER get enough of this man. It did not have to be sexual….I would pay to see him take a nap. Seriously, our time together was always too short and never enough. I wanted to devour him sexually; with talking, I would ask the dumbest questions to just hear his voice. I would touch, look at and smell every inch of him so I could always remember what he was….and now….his scent is leaving my nostrils and I don’t want to forget. I want to be greedy again with him. The really sad part of greed is this: is it ever satisfied?

Sloth: Sloth is believed  to be the failure to utilize one’s talents and gifts and the neglect to take care of something that one should do. Perhaps I should add sloth to the list of sins I am most identifying with: the depression had my house on the verge of being condemned. I did not shower ( Panel members had to threaten me to go stand under some water) I did not eat so the fact I had no money for groceries did not matter. I hid away from the world, and now? I keep telling you guys about my pain….have I been to a doctor? I need more income, but have fallen into a complacency that will surely be my downfall. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep when I am not masturbating and tell you all I am processing…and sometimes I really am.. The only thing that is NOT true about this definition is that this fiasco has encouraged me to utilize my talents with writing….I am doing this blog, but my drafts of my book that will make me rich, a household name and win Mo’Nique her next Oscar?? On hold, while I talk about him every day.

Wrath/Anger: Wrath is the only sin not necessarily associated with selfishness or self-interest. Anger, in its purest form, presents with self-destructiveness, violence, and hate that may provoke feuds that can go on for centuries. Anger may persist long after the person who did another a grievous wrong is dead. Feelings of anger can manifest in different ways, and Dante has described wrath as “love of justice perverted to revenge and spite”. What can I say? Anger has the ability to take a person completely outside themselves and become a horrible caricatures of themselves. It inspires crimes of passion and is the first emotion to bring the term “temporary insanity” into being: that happened the year 1882, when Daniel Sickles went on trial and was acquitted for the murder of Phillip Barton Key II, the son of Francis Scott Key, who was having an affair with Sickles’ wife. Sickles’ attorneys argues that Sickles’ anger rendered him unable to determine right from wrong until after the deed was done.; that is how deadly anger is. You can go insane and not know right from wrong; when angry, killing a person makes perfect sense and not until the deed is done do you realize what you have done. Anger can make lifelong enemies of people, who then raise their children to hate people they do not even know …Hatfields and McCoys anyone? If you asked a third generation member of the Hatfields why they hate the McCoys, their answer will most likely be: it’s always been that way. My father hated them and his father before him. So anger is a cycle that can perpetuated endlessly, and how do you stop it? How do you just let it go, and move on? I think if people knew how to do that, anger would not be a deadly sin.

Envy: Like greed, envy  may be characterized by an insatiable desire;  Dante has defined envy as “a desire to deprive other men of theirs.”  Greed however, is mostly associate with material good or gain, while envy is more emotionally based as you perceive yourself to be lacking in some way. Envy is also the only sin directly related to the Ten Commandments:  “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor”.  And I will freely admit: I am extremely envious of anyone who is a part of his life while I no longer am…BTH (and I understand the feeling of lacking something because she turned his head and he turned his back on me); his daughters; hell, even Artsy Craftsy, Quiet One and Chef get to see him every day. I am sure they would rather not, but I want to see him, talk to him and touch him. And now I feel forbidden to and a stranger, all because I feel I am lacking whatever it took to keep him and make him happy. I am envious of those in great relationships, those who are sexual, those who are not processing. Color me green.  Envy pretty much incorporates pieces of  greed, gluttony and takes from your perception of self image and self esteem to keep you always wanting what another has. It’s not jealousy which is defined as resentment against a rival or mental uneasiness arising from suspicion. I do not have a rival and I no longer have suspicions…I am envious which is defined as a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another’s advantages or possessions. I make no excuses or apologies…look at it as trying to Keep Up with the Jones’…..The Fucked Up BTH Fiasco Edition.

Pride/Vainglory: Pride is considered the original and most serious of the seven deadly sins, and the source of the others. It is identified as a desire to be more important or attractive than others, failing to acknowledge the good work of others, and excessive love of self (especially holding self out of proper position toward God). Dante’s definition was “love of self perverted to hatred and contempt for one’s neighbor.” In Dante’s Divine Comedy, the penitents were forced to walk with stone slabs bearing down on their backs to induce feelings of humility. The most well-known example of pride is Lucifer’s fall from Heaven. In all truthfulness, it is hard for me to associate myself with pride with all my low levels of self everything, but my ego has no problems with it. How can I be the one who is rejected and abandoned with all I offer? With all he said I was and what my mirror shows me every time I look in it? I have no humility here….I have no feelings of fate or karma (I know I blogged about maybe it is because I betrayed his trust first, but for real, if he does not know what happened, it did not happen…and WHERE is the God in THAT statement??) I demand to be apologized to, I demand explanations, I demand him on his knees begging forgiveness from me…..not a Higher Power whom we all will answer to. I want my ego assuaged and I want to belittle and humiliate him even further. I want him submitting to and worshipping me. And that is the danger of pride….all else is excluded. Anger may make you kill another, but pride will make you kill yourself. (Morning Person and I had a discussion over which sin was deadlier: anger or pride? When she made the statement I just wrote…she won.) How many times have we said, I will DIE before I give in to that person? How many people who cannot bear the thought or consequences of being seen in a different light than which they present themselves take the route of suicide (which is the only sin that cannot be forgiven)…so pride not only can drive you to kill yourself, you are damned to an eternity in Hell because of it. With pride in the picture, where is my love for him? Where is the forgiveness?

You know, my horoscope today was so on point, even Morning Person had to say that it was dead on. It told me to examine my motives for wanting a certain person back in my life; look beneath the surface to examine why we even got together in the first place and my true motives for wanting a reconciliation as I can no longer accept and reject pieces of them at will. I have to say I really don’t know…depends on when you catch me. I DO love him, I don’t want to forget him and I want more than anything for us to get it right; yet, when you read where I am with pride…all it sounds like  I want is revenge and humiliation. And I need to process, dig deeper and work a little harder to see what I really want. Of course, to be healed and in a better place, but what do I need for closure? I have said I was going to see him for myself, but what happens then? Will it give me the closure I want or will it re-open wounds that are only now beginning to heal? And one thing that came through with this post: where is GOD in my process? Where am I in this process? Reading this, I sound like a soulless victim, wallowing in a pool of self-pity and self righteousness. I need to sit down, re-group and prioritize…..I do not want to end up in a Hell where I am strapped down with heavy stones, swirling in an endless hurricane to land face down, eating dirt.

I know one thing…tomorrow, our asses are visiting Nebraska!

 

 

Oscar’s Poetry Corner

I want to begin today’s blog with huge thank-yous. First, I want to thank each and every member of my Panel….these people always and without fail are there for me whenever I need them, no matter what the problem…and Lord knows they have been beyond patient with this problem that will never die.  Each and everyone understand where I am and they all encourage me to take my time with the process and the healing…they have all been there ( at least 2 are still there) and they tell me all the time it is okay. Secondly, I want to thank my readers. Your support, encouragement, comments and emails mean more than you will ever know. To know that there are so many others going through, and drawing inspiration from what I feel is only confusion and crap….unbelievable, and in a good way. You listen to me cry and whine and I am so glad for the good days when I can offer you some of the positive encouragement and enforcement you give me just by clicking a link to see how I am doing and where I am on any given day. The emails and comments I get remind me to NOT give up hope as only a Higher Power has the final say in anything and that while I do not have any new opportunities on the horizon now, I will never see them when they do arrive if my eyes are clouded with tears of what used to be. And my final thank you goes to Him. Without Him, this blog would not be around, I would not be processing and discovering just how damaged I still am…in words it sounds like a really fucked up thing but how many of us are in need of taking an inventory/reality check and repairing some damaged areas? Probably all of us but we have not had a reason to do so because on the surface everything seems to be bubbly and rosy….Him gave me my reason. This fiasco has brought my Panel and I closer together than ever and my openness has encouraged them to open up even more: to themselves, to me and to each other. It is helping me to help others, and while it is hard now….one day, I will look back on this and know that it healed me. So, to Him….thank you. Just don’t tell him I said this, okay?

Well, I am tired, in pain and had dinner with Reliable One….yes, I wore the perfume sampler; yes, I was nice; and he apologized for his behavior. He actually ordered what he wanted to eat and did not eat off my plate, so it was a pleasant evening. Now, without further delay, I present to you Oscar’s Poetry Corner. Yes, she is still in love with Him, Jr. and yes, she is going through but she is releasing her emotions through poetry and wants t share with the world her feelings. Enjoy, show her some love and we will talk tomorrow….debating between Nebraska and the Phone Booth.

  One Million Words
One million words have taken the place of the space you used to fill; I contemplate the feelings my heart tells me not to feel. You’ve gone away, to some distant land, at night I hear your voice; when the world is silent and I’m alone, you’ve left me with no choice. So I use these words as comfort, one million of them at a time; paper and pen are my new best friends, they take the place of what I can’t hide.

These Steps
There’s these steps I’m forbidden to walk upon but I know how they’re made; every crack, every footstep ever engraved. I know how many people have walked passed them without counting; my happiest moments and biggest mistakes, were made on those steps, and with each step I take, I never imagined being forbidden to use them; an unwanted trespasser, what have I done?..  to so suddenly turn into a stranger to their owner; though their color might fade, but I’ll remember where they’re from.

Clear As Glass
It’s true that we dream ,we believe in whole heartedly; I always thought of us that way, I could always see you, and on those days you were away, you were always clear to me, clear as glass. You were always attainable, and now you’re a stranger; I’m just the girl with the tattered up soul, bits and pieces of me shattered all around you..your face surrounds me in an abstract way, it’s the memories that are concrete; the memories will always be clear to me, clear as glass.

This girl. This Boy.
There’s this girl, and you know her. She doesn’t know who she is. She’s beautiful but she’s dangerous; help her find her way. Something is missing from deep inside, where does she belong? There’s this boy who knew her perfectly, until everything went wrong.

Was It Love?
It was love. It was always love. I know enough about you to know that you loved me; but when the lights are low, and soft music plays, who is lying next to you? Who makes your adrenaline intensify? It’s always been me for you, what happened? It was love. It was always love. I know enough about you to know that you loved me; but when the lights are low, and soft music plays, who is lying next to you? Who is whispering in your ear? Beautiful words, words you’ve always loved to hear; it’s always been me for you, what happened? It was love. It was always love. Was it love?

Apply Within

A sad, sad day has come upon the Panel. It is time to recruit a new member to replace not one but TWO members. And replace may not be the best word because NO ONE on my Panel can be replaced. These folks were chosen with care and love and their home in my heart is forever secured. Also, they are not leaving per se; they are being relegated to part-time status due to circumstances beyond our control. Pregnant One is in serious countdown mode now….26 days until KBugg makes her arrival (look for an upcoming blog post on that!) and Pregnant One receives her name change…we are leaning towards New Mommy. The other member is Artsy Craftsy….she is being transferred to another part of the Island (it is divided into 3 parts) which will further her commute and cut into her role as Girl Reporter; eventually, she will be splitting her time between Island 1 and Island 2, but for the remainder of the first quarter (at least) of this year, she will be  pretty much incognito. Both will be available in case of emergencies and Artsy Craftsy will still be able to receive breaking news updates that are either really good gossip or of utmost importance (my source has a source). Both have stated that they are STILL members, and once schedules get coordinated and they can get into the swing of their new grooves, things will be back to normal.

However, in the meantime and in between time….the hunt is on for a new, part-time Panel member. Usually, an Independent Consultant is tapped to fill the slot, but right now, pickings are slim. Artistic One is still settling into her new life in a new city; Mini-Me is a possibility but she is best as an IC…. a Panel member has to be someone I can talk to about anything, and someone I would not mind talking to 2-3 times a day. I see me having a resentment if I had to check in with her on a daily basis and as for taking a direct order from her? That seafood salad would be thrown in her face so fast, her head would spin. Policeman is still in the doghouse and his issues and drama make mine seem non-existent. That is another requirement…we can all have our drama and fiascoes….just not at the same time. The only two exceptions to this rule are Cuz and Oscar simply because they are as emotionally fragile as I am. New BFF is another possibility, but the boy is in love and actually has a life. There is another IC whom I shall call Busy Bee, but her name says it all….again, your social life has to be seriously lacking.

So while age, gender and race are not factors in eliminating anyone (I have men and women of all ethnic diversities…white, black, Latina and Asian and our ages range from 22-60) , you must have a belief in a Higher Power. You must be fucked up…. we all are; however, you must actually be working on your issues. All members have had at least one process or life changing event that has made them stop, take stock/inventory of themselves and then repair the flawed areas. We need someone who can pretty much be available 7 days a week between the hours of 7am-10pm. Personally, I am available pretty much 24 hours a day as is Cuz and Buddy. Pregnant One is available until 8, Artsy Craftsy and Morning person until 9, Quiet One until 10 and Girlfriend and Oscar vary between 11pm and midnight. Chef ‘s schedule varies with work and school, but you can always count on him during the workday and on weekends. You must have SOME form of communication: text, phone or email. You MUST be able to think outside the box, be objective, open-minded and non-judgmental. Again, we are fucked up and sometimes dark and twisty thoughts take over. We need someone who will listen and offer advice when needed….we do not need to hear that we need meds or a shrink unless we are homicidal or suicidal. You must be able to talk us out of our funks and depressions…we do listen and we do have common sense. You have to be able to convene a meeting with at least two other members should your talking and advice do not move us. If all else fails, either call the police or our mamas. The position is voluntary and does not pay; holidays are not even a guarantee of a day off.

Another quality which is a requirement is the ability to deal with lots of different personalities and issues. We all weird out at times….you have to be able to handle that if you do not weird out yourself. I have interviewed someone and so far, this person seems perfect. She has issues and is borderline fucked up; she has no social life and understands the story of Him and seriously that could be the clincher right there. If you can understand me, him and what we had and why it is so fucked up…and do so without judgment and pretty come to the same conclusions the rest of us have (and Scout’s Honor….we  have all come to basically the same conclusion regarding his motives and driving forces independently) we want you. See, if you can understand this fiasco, you can handle Oscar and Cuz with ease. The rest of the Panel is not quite as bad as us three…I promise. The woman is understanding and willing to give as many chances as it takes for someone to get it right, but she will not be taken advantage of. She can look at a problem from all angles and can play Devil’s Advocate with the best of them. She needs a circle of friends she can talk to about her dark and twisty side and the extremes she has gone to deal with the fact she tends to date the wrong men and make questionable choices. She needs someone who is open and honest with her…she asked me a question during the interview about where she should go with a man she is thinking of taking up with and when I told her she really had the wrong person as I take on the hopeless, helpless and completely fucked up as boyfriends and give them thousands of chances, she told me she felt so at ease with me and felt as if she had known me forever. Like me, she falls too hard, loves too deeply and wastes herself on men who are unworthy of her….and we agreed to let the guy make the first move; it was a brand new relationship (still in the getting to know you stage) a first date and dude is questionable at best. She was going to pick him up, open the door for HIM and have flowers and a card waiting on the seat for him. We agreed to wait and see if he would be worth such efforts in the future.

So, I like her….she is still trying to get over a bad breakup/relationship herself and she is down to earth, friendly and open. Of course, I will have to run her past the rest of the Panel but I do not see them rejecting her application. In fact, the only one I see having questions or reservations are Quiet One who questions everything; Morning Person will wonder will she have to worry about her the way she does me, Cuz and Oscar and the men will ask is she pretty and hot. She is. She is also a single mom which will be helpful for Pregnant One and she has great professional connections and networks which should help all of us when we are ready for career changes. All in all, I see the addition of Proud Mommy being a win-win for all involved and I look forward to blogging to you guys about her confirmation to the Panel. As for the rest of the week….I have so many posts for you guys….we are going to visit Nebraska; find out what happens When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong; figure out what Standing In Front of a Broken Phone Booth with Money In My Hand REALLY means; and the Poor Man’s edition of 9 ½ Weeks. We will kick off a week of brand new blogs NOT involving him ( at least not much……he IS on a shelf right now, but he is the reason for the blog) tomorrow with Oscar’s Poetry Corner.