Smallness

I think about it almost on a daily basis. My strong tendency to think often and then to often think. Maybe I have been branded by too many misguided souls, that mine too, has been lost in the waves and currents. My many secrets, those that keep me from knowing my true self. Yes, those many secrets. The ones that come back even after such a long absence, they always return. They come in and show themselves and them again they fall into my mind and live there. My many secrets, no matter how small, they are with me.

I think about it almost on a daily basis. The smallness of it and never the bigness of it. I'd like to think that most people ponder on how big a situation is and how much it will affect their relationship with others and with God. At least, I'd like to think. My daily routine, which by the way, is not very routine at all, is affected by the smallness of it. It is so small, so minute, such a speckle...that it becomes as big as the world that surrounds me and suffocates me.

And I relish in it. In my secrets, my many secrets...that are so small. Yes, I relish in them, I do.

What Happened to Love

Thrown into the harrows of utter silence. I sit and weep. I miss what I once had. I miss how it made me feel. I miss how he loved me and how he did everything within his power to prove to me that what he was feeling was real. What happened to love. Did the idea of time and space happen to it? Did the world come along and take it along with the undeceive wind? Or did I happen to it?



Am I hard or difficult to love? I think that I do what is in my will to make him happy. I think...however, the truth can be a bit disheartening. The days go by and then the weeks and after that the months and eventually the years. They all come and go and soon I see myself reliving the same month that I did last year. Like clock work that month comes around again and I am there again. I try to count the hours and the minutes, but I fall short. Because now the moods are sporadic and heavy. I hate heavy...but I am there. In the same hour as I was last month and reliving the same minute.

Nothing is ever right. Nothing is ever good enough. I wish that I was somewhere else and doing something else. I wish that I had new air to breathe. I new place to open its arms wide and accept me. I wish that I knew what happened to love. I would chase and ask it what has it been up to. Why had it left me? Did it not like my home, was it not cozy enough. I would tell love that I miss it and I want it back. I would...I would...I would ask love to love me again.

Sinking in My Own Pain

Grace and Peace

I have not been here, but I have been a few places that I can recall. Places that I dare not step inside of again. I have to admit that things are not always what they seem. A smile can be the true opening to a pain that lies deep within. A pain that can not be overcome. Have you ever known that kind of pain? Gradually, at times, I think that I have almost overcome the pain, that perhaps I have conquered it. But then I find myself in this place. Still here, sinking in my own...

What goes For Friday Afternoon Reading...

Before I was allowed to dismiss the "porch-monkey" racial slur; I was introduced to yet another racial comment made by a Radio Host. What is with white people referring to black people as "monkeys"? The article began like this:

"Is referring to a Black person as a "monkey" racist?"

I think that given its historical background that yes, the slur is racial. I do not think that it would be very appeasing for me to go around referring to white people as "crackers", even if I was only trying to make a point about their political activities.

"WELE 1380 host Big John referred to Daytona Beach Commissioner and Mayoral candidate Dwayne Taylor, who is black, as a monkey, adding that Taylor would be a bad choice for "his people".

The NAACP wants the radio station to give Big John his walking papers, but the radio station is refusing to do so. They believe that the listeners took the comment in the wrong way; saying that BJ is not racist; however, he does not like Taylor.

ON THE FLIP SIDE OF THAT; I ALSO READ THIS:

The FDA clearly says that they DO NOT WANT DONATED BLOOD FROM GAY MEN! The FDA are so clear on their policy, they don't even want the blood of a man that has had one sexual encounter with a man. The FDA has banned gay men for life. The FDA instituted this policy in 1983 when there was a contamination threat to the blood supply.

Other companies lifted their ban on gay men donating blood in March of 2006. The FDA is not having it, they say, "men who have had sex with men account for the largest single group of blood donors who are found HIV positive by blood donor testing."

Many people are deeming this ban on gay men discriminatory! Well I have to say that they are not the only people that are being discriminated against, the FDA has also placed a lifetime ban on anyone who has ever been paid for sex or anyone who has used intravenous drugs.

Well if that is the case just about all the women and most of the men in the world should be banned from giving blood. Cause just because they are not on the corner using what they got to get what they want, don't mean that they ain't doing it.

P.S. crackheads stay away!

Porch-Monkey

Scene: Bliss walks into her office at work and the white girl sitting behind the third desk has a question mark on her face. We share the usual pleasantries and I sit down and pretend that I am ready for what the day has in store for me.

Here comes the question: The white girl says, "I have a question for you, well...let me tell you the whole story."

Summary: She spoke with her ex-husband. He is white. She had a child by a black man. Ex just found out.

Ready for this: amongst calling her son a Nigger. He called her son a Porch Monkey.

Conversation: She asked me was that a negative slur used against black people. I tell her yes. She asked me why.

My Answer: Porch Monkeys were the lighter skinned black people that had the privilege of going into the "BIG HOUSE". You had House Niggers and Field Niggers. Porch Monkey was just another name for House Niggers.

Requesting Your Help: I felt that my answer may have been a little too vague. Is there anyone out there in blog land that can help me?

IGNORE THE BULLSHIT!

I believe that the time comes when everyone must learn how to ignore the BULLSHIT! I have always wanted to know how people become depressed or unhappy in their lives. The answer to most of it is that they have not learned how to ignore the BULLSHIT!

I am entering into something new. A time that is best for me and anyone that I have to carry (notice have). I have to make the best decisions for me and the children and the family that I hold in my future. FUCK what everyone else says. FUCK what everyone else thinks.

If at any time the BULLSHIT becomes too much for one to ignore, then Maya says it best:

"If you don't like the situation, change it. If you can't change it, then change your attitude"

Almost!

The time is almost near. I can feel it, I'd like to run my fingertips across it. Read it as if it were brail. I'd like to plant my nose in it and smell whatever there is for me to smell. I can see it...there, there it is. Hiding in the near distance. Slapping its knee and luaghing....ooooooweeeeee...its laughing at me. Oh, I think it's smiling at me, wants me near it. It calls me friend...a friend...bestfriend.

I am Almost there

Almost

Peace is almost here...for now it is just resting over there.