How I Feel...

My Jam for the Moment...

Mos Def - "Casa Bey" - The Ecstatic - 6.9.09


My heart beats to this man's lyrics. I'm so excited for the album's drop on the 9th.

Since When?...(June Edition)

Since when are females, especially white females, excluding from having beat-boxing skills? Watch and be amazed. (Not sure how old this is, but I stumbled upon this a few minutes ago...)

How I Feel...

Gay Rights vs. Civil Rights Movement

It confuses me when advocates of Gay Rights try and use the credibility of the Civil Rights Movement. The mistreatment of Blacks for centuries still continues to be a sore spot for citizens in America; as well it should be. However, the struggle for Gays (I.e. currently with Prop 8) is completely different.

I will sadly admit that Gays undergo severe scrutiny and prejudice. A blog I frequent expressed that the Rodney King beating and the Matthew Shepard beating are both hate crimes. I whole-heartedly agree. However, there are many other types of people that recieve horrible mistreatment because of one thing or the other (I.e. the obese). A hate crime is a hate crime. But staying on topic, Gays did not have to fight for voting rights, or educational rights. No one has ever denied them the right to read or pee in a clean bathroom with heterosexuals.

I would never compare Slavery to the Holocaust; referencing it to make Slavery seem more horrendous. It is irrelevant and disrespectful. So, as a Black woman, I would respectfully appreciate it if those advocating for Gay Rights would cease using my history as a way to bend the arms and pull on the heart strings of the citizens of this country.

I symphatize, but I do not agree. My allegiance is not automatically applied because we may or may not face the same enemy.

The #s List (2009 Version)

10 Things you wish you could say to ten different people:
1. "You know what? Man up, already..."
2. "You may be good at a lot of things, but there is one thing that you do extremely well...and that's hurt my feelings."
3. "What did I do to make you feel like you had to delete me out of your life?"
4. "Thank you. I appreciate you and your wife more than you'll ever know."
5. "I know he's your close friend...but remember...I still love him...and he loves me. So, please do not give me a reason to dislike you."
6. "Thank you for always being my best friend...on top of everything else. I love you."
7. "You are growing into a beautiful young woman that I love more and more. I hope you're in my life always."
8. "Thank you for just being there. You're my best friend, no matter how far a part we are."
9. "You have issues. And you need to deal with your anger...because you're hurting her, and it's hurting me."
10. "I love you more than I was prepared for. But I hope that time and space doesn't push me further from you. I hope it doesn't hurt us more than it helps us. I'm not afraid of what we represent. Just be here. Don't leave me."

9 Things about yourself:
1. I like plastic flowers.
2. I enjoy giving things away.
3. Purses are my new secret fetish.
4. I want to paint just one original piece of art.
5. I love connecting with people.
6. I enjoy rummaging through old bookstores.
7. Scrapbooking = <3
8. If I had no choice...I wouldn't mind going without make-up for the rest of my life.
9. I could be a movie critic...and be good at it.

8 Ways to win my heart:
1. Genuinely love children.
2. Possess people-smarts.
3. Know your 90s trivia.
4. Love taking pictures (and being in them).
5. Blog
6. Regularly read others' blogs.
7. Say something politically incorrect with conviction.
8. Give others hope.

7 Things that cross my mind a lot:
1. My parent's health.
2. My relationship/friendship with him.
3. My walk with God.
4. Poetry/writing (what could I write next)
5. Money
6. Grad school
7. The Future

6 Things I do before I go to sleep:
1. Eat a snack.
2. Bathe/change into pjs.
3. Talk to parents.
4. Check email/FB/Myspace/Blogs
5. Text/call him.
6. Listen to music.

5 People I couldn’t live without (Other than God):
1. My mom
2. My step-dad
3. My father
4. My nephew
5. My papa

4 Things I am wearing right now:
1. shorts
2. gray wifebeater
3. underwear
4. silk hair scarf

3 Songs that fit my life perfectly(right now):
1. "Surrender Saved My Life" by The Beautiful Republic
2. "Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg
3. "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" by Lauryn Hill

2 Things I want to do before I die:
1. Have a family.
2. Write a best-seller.

1 Confession:
He loves me....but I'm afraid that my best friend and I won't ever get back together. I have no basis for this fear...but that's where it is.

Be.Still. (Part Five -- Disappointment)

I'd never been on a real date before.

The Senior Prom doesn't count, because EVERYONE has a date for the Prom. If I'd gone with my older cousin, I wouldn't count that as a date, right?

It was the summer after high school. I'd just gotten back from Mexico, where I'd done street ministry to some of the poorest children in the small town of Morelia. My friend of 12 years had become my boyfriend by the time we took our final exams. I had gone out of the country for the first time in my life...so I figured I was ready to go on a date.

At the time, I was enrolled in this year-long church program for post high-school grads. I'd moved out of my parents' home, and into a host house with the pastor's older, single daughter. I was under rules and regulations, but dating was not one of them. I was very, very excited to be able to hang out with my guy alone. He'd come to church events, and my parents knew him, for the most part.

I remember that Sunday very well. I invited him to a church event that was held at a school in my hometown. There was entertainment put on by some of the members, and PLENTY of food. The plan was, that he and I were going to go to the movies after the event was over. I'd cleared it with the pastor and his wife two weeks before.

Coming out of the bathroom at the school (I'd changed into jeans and a tshirt), my guy stood near the front doors waiting for me. I suddenly remembered to go say bye to my parents before I left for my date. They replied that I couldn't go on the date, because no one knew about it before hand. I said that my pastor and his wife knew. Clearly upset, my parents confronted them.

And much to my surprise, they replied (with me standing there) that they knew nothing about me going out on a date...at any time...and especially not that day. My head started to spin. With all eyes on me, I simply stood there; speechless. I didn't know what I was more disappointed in: my parents' anger or my church leaders' dishonesty. I turned to look back at the guy...and signaled for him to go on without me.

My mind swam with confusion and hurt. After proving to be an responsible, well-rounded young adult, I was still unafforded the basic pleasure of hanging out with a friend. And I was a 17 year old high school graduate.

This disappointment swelled in the pit of my gut. And it only grew.

This occurance flooded into an array of conversations and lectures. My parents were furious at me for my lack of sound judgement. My pastors declared that I was being drawn down the wrong path, and that I was too carnal for wanting to go out on my very first date.
Finally, a conference was scheduled between my pastors, my parents, and I...

...where I was strongly advised to stop dating this boy. And there was a unified voice in that room, and it spoke that I was going down the wrong path. What I felt was wrong.

There is a vivid memory that continues to haunt my dreams.

And it happened as soon as the meeting was over...

I remember going into the empty bathroom of my church and crying my eyes out. I held my hands tightly across my mouth and weeped sour, broken tears into the floor. I asked God for clarity. I wanted to know why this was happening to me, and why I did not see it coming. I could physically feel a battle going on inside of me. It wasn't that I felt I could not live without this guy. That wasn't it at all. It was that I had absolutely no clue what is truly righteous and good. Somehow, I'd lacked the spiritual fortitude to see the darkness (or the light, for that matter) inside of my own soul. I wanted to possess my own faith. Have it to be MINE.

But it didn't belong to me, it belonged to those who felt they knew better than I did.

And that belief was lorded over me. Making me dizzy with disappointment.

I was in an unsound place. A place where a hope was dangled in front of my eyes, but then snatched away...where I am then told that this hope wasn't really mine to begin with.

The notion of hope deferred still tends to trip me up. My mind immediately goes back to a picture of me: confused and decieved. But I shake that lie out of my mind...remembering that I contain the potential to grasp growth, beauty, wisdom, and true grace, as well as the evidence that points towards my own personal relationship with God. I should only be still and tap into it...

So, disappointment teaches me this:
Fear no man, only God. Because He is the only one who can change the direction of the wind. Trust Him.

All.

I took a Psychology of Religion course a couple of semesters ago; where we surveyed each major world religion. It was incredibly informative and I left with not only a knowledge of other faiths, but a confirmed foundation of my own Faith. I know most people are wary of the topic "religion", but I wanted to explain its role in my life.

I grew up in church, basically. Knew the stories of Noah, Abraham, and Jesus before I mastered my times tables. By 17, I could quote scripture, and even taught lessons for youth and prison inmates. At some point in my late adolescence, I finally mentally understood that there was something to religion that surpassed deeds. I felt something tugging at the strings of my heart.

I thought, mind you, that I was doing okay. I'd overcome depression, suicidal thoughts, a broken home, and the death of my brother...all without the depth of spirituality. Right? Why would a young woman, coming into her own and realizing her identity, need to grow closer to the God of her faith? I mean, I was a good, well-mannered teen. I volunteered places, didn't curse, smoke, or drink, and I was a virgin. I'd done all I could to be a good person, so what else is there?

As soon as I graduated high school, things started to happen. In me and around me.

Example:
I watched the church that I grew up in become more and more occultish and spiritually manipulative. Disunity ensued and people begin to stop attending. Families were broken a part. Those who stayed either began to take on the attitude of the leadership (by demonizing or shunning those who left), or became helplessly subjected to the others. My family was the latter. I struggled in my faith, but stayed and served on many ministries at the church. Saw/heard things that rocked me to my core. Witnessed ungodly, unethical, and illegal practices that made me question the sovereignty of the God of my faith. My life became like clay to my church leaders, and decisions that I made were guided by their counsel. Those church splits and that ministry as a whole has deeply wounded many people. Some of which have completely seperated themselves from Christianity. I considered it.

I remember numerous dark nights where I yelled and screamed at God; asking Him where was He when all of this was happening...or when my parents' marriage was crumbling...or while my brother lay on the side of the road dying...

Instead of getting an explanation from God, I recieved understanding. Now usually, an explanation or a reason for an event will give us understanding. But this time, I gained understanding (not right away) without getting a literal answer. But I had to be willing to want the understanding...

I could not be the same teenager who looked at my faith as a classification. Or a check-box on a job application. Because there is more. It is more.
It wasn't enough to give a percentage of my heart to God. Or my mental understanding. He wanted more. But how much exactly?

All.

This has been the test of my entire life. And it continues to be.
Every trial and circumstance has been to make me stronger, better, and wiser...but also to draw my heart closer to His.

I am only 23 years old...so there isn't much that I know for sure about love and life. But there is one thing that I am absolutely sure of: God loves me.

This is my testimonial. Of what it is meant by "Not a religion, but a relationship."

Bloggin from My Cell...

Lying awake & thinking of him. Just when I feel like I'm getting the hang of this summer adventure on my own, I realize how much happier I'd be with him here...

Brave.New.Voices.

Caught wind of this show right before the first episode premiered.
Check it.

Let it Go.

I've figured out that the worst thing I can do for any circumstance or issue in my life, is to try and fix it myself. Normally, I'll go through a trecherous cycle of:

Step 1: Analyzing it
Step 2: Mapping out possible results
Step 2b: Rehashing on the worse-case-scenario
Step 3: Worrying
Step 4: Asking people not involved to pray for me
Step 5: Acting based on my certainty of the issue's outcome
It usually goes like this. But I usually either overthink it, or mess the whole thing up by the time I get to Step #5. And it's odd because I know that there's a better way.

Especially in relationships. There is a certain level of control that I'd like to maintain if I am going to be in a relationship with a guy. I'll exercise the tendency to keep a close eye on where the relationship is headed...and if need be, steer it myself. I don't let heartache catch me off guard.

But my current love is completely different. I am involved in the most unique "friendlationship" of my whole life. [I use "friendlationship" because we're on a break...if you're a follower of my blog then you're already aware of this.] We are colleagues in an art (Spoken word/poetry) that is becoming like a campus ministry, we graduated with the same major, we have the same passions and pursuits in life, etc. When I realized that I loved him...my mind dashed to the alter. Today, we are close friends concentrating on our individual lives; away from the daily distractions that being in a serious relationship can bring.

Whenever I feel myself becoming too occupied with the state of this friendship...I can feel God reminding me to give it to Him. Step #4 involves me asking for others to pray for me, but I usually don't need prayer -- simply the strength to obey. It's like He has to consistantly pry my firm grip off of this beautifully wrapped box labeled "The Future". (God has taught me patience in these 4 months.)

I've recently had to deal with some issues about me, the guy, and another girl that is closer to him than I'd like. I'd become unsure about how she really feels about him, and that made me uneasy. So, after being backed into an emotional corner early yesterday, I finally said,

"Okay, Lord. I give up. I'm letting it go..."

About 8 hours later: I recieved a text from the boy (he's away working at a summer camp); telling me exactly what I needed to hear. The fear that was I trying to maneuver myself; went away.

And it happened when I decided to let it go.

Likes & Dislikes (Edition for May)

Dislikes:
Rehashing an old argument
Accidentally chipping off fresh nail polish
Scratches on touch phones
Laugh tracks on sitcoms
Indecisiveness
Folk overly involved in politics and not nearly involved in people
The amount of gossip blogs on the net

Likes:
A throwback song coming on when my iTunes is on shuffle play
Q-tips
a random text from a friend
peach cobbler
the endless amount of pictures I own
getting an heirloom from an older family member
my favorite graphic tee
clarity
recalling a scripture that applies to a current situation
blogging ;)

Random photo of how I feel right now:

Undergrad. Done. (The 100th Post)

Conservative.

I had a dream that conservatives
were hanging blacks and beating up homosexuals.
Well-to-do Christians committing atrocities
In the name of their Lord and Savior.
Advocates of the Moral Majority
in crisp suits and cold hands.
Establishing organizations to ensure
The freedom of "private citizens" above
The goodwill of "all mankind".

I saw them disappear into corporate buildings,
but never darkening the gateways of ghettos, prisons,
and homeless shelters.
I dared to look into the eyes of my brothers and sisters
And I saw them look back at me with eyes of disdain.
I represent a potential enemy.
A liability unless I move to the right neighborhood.

One of them opened his palm to me.
Showed me a bar of gold and said,
"See here? This is America. Land Where God dwells."
My eyes sparkled and saw opportunity.
"We could use one of you" he said, eying me carefully.
I smiled and felt the chains tangled around my ankle loosen...
...but stay put.

I walked with him.
And he showed me
the amber waves of grain,
and purple mountain majesties.
He took me to observe the beauty of
America's land.
He waved his hand dramatically;
a tear formed and fell from his eyes.
I wanted to see it. I did.
But all I saw was soil drenched with
the color red.
Vivid to my eyes,
So the pride that swelled in his chest
confused me.
Yet, the more I dwell on these thoughts
I could see the color on his face growing more pale...
and the chain on my ankle grow tighter.
So, I dare not speak.

I bravely continued to walk at his side.
As we trekked across the landscape...
He proceeded to share his gospel with me,
While I clenched the tarnished cross that my
great-grandmother gave me in my quivering black fist....

Be.Still. (Part Four -- Weariness)

Worse than a lazy man, is a weary one who has lost motivation.
Many times I have confused the two...
I've looked at a homeless man sitting on the side of the road and jumped to the conclusion that this must be a man who would rather someone else do his work for him. But that may not be the case...
...what if, in fact, this is a broken man? Who at one point ran the race with endurance, but then somehow got weary and gave up?

Now, I look into the eyes of that homeless man and I'm suddenly struck with empathy.
How close am I to matching his demeanor/mindset?

I am tired.
Well-rested, nourished, and active,
but weary. Running full speed on a full stomach and an empty tank.
I have not lost heart....because it has been trained though years of experiencing trials, but my MIND is revolting against me.

There is SO MUCH to think about, consider, worry over, plan, configure, and engage into.

...with 24 days until graduation, four months until graduate school, and a million other deadlines in between, I hear these words echoing inside my head:

"I don't know how much more I can take".

If I'm not engrossed in academic pursuits, then I am mulling over summer plans and money woes. Or the billion details concerning being an RA again next year. Or thinking about my mother's health/recovery. Or people that I need to meet and talk to. Or the state of my friendships. Etc. I try to pray over the clamor, but they all rush back into place once I utter "Amen". Why? Because no one else should carry my load but me. Right?

My arms and legs, though ripped from bearing my responsibilities, are fatigued and failing me.
I feel pieces of my academics slipping out from their neatly-arranged places; falling to the ground. Bit by bit, my well-guarded thought life drifts out of its alignment; no longer a safe haven.
Hope, piece by piece, slips away and shatters to the ground.

Just as I am about to completely give way, I drop to my knees and lay each burden. Every responsibility. All of my concerns, worries, and obligations. And lay them at the feet of Jesus.
I do not move, save the quivering of my shoulders as I weep from exhaustion.
Without one word spoken, I am swept up into the arms of my Savior. Closer to Him than I've been in a while. Close enough to see the scars on His hands and the stripes on His upper back and shoulders. The empathy in His eyes.

Weariness taught me something:
....when I am weak, He is strong. Christ bore it all. All of it. So He's strong enough. He really is enough.

Likes & Dislikes (April Version)

Dislikes:
homework with 30 days of school left
cheap flat irons
cold wind
people who lack integrity looking to help you
stinky feet
people who stare
getting to know a severely socially awkward person


Likes:
intimate conversations
texting
photography at the park
making a wise decision
hearing about an answered prayer
laughing until tears
discovering a new music genre

Be.Still. (Part Three -- Grief)

I had just seen him no more than 6 hours prior.
Playfully hugged him and
tugged at one of his locks while he sat on our couch talking to my mother.

And now.
He was gone.

That night still haunts my dreams...
...there were too many people in my room at once:
some gazing back and forth from my mother to me,
while others simply lowered their eyes to the floor.
My mother was struggling to explain something to me, but all I heard was:
"Mike"..."gone"..."he's gone".

I cannot put into words my initial feeling, but I do remember being confused.
It was if all of the logic and reasoning that I had was no help to me...
All sensibility and understanding that a 14 year old usually possesses did not come through for me in that moment.
All I know, is that I felt alone. Abandoned. And wherever my brother was...I wanted to join him.
I could not bear the thought of being left alone here.
Left to contend with the process of loss and mourning.
And having to watch those closest to me endure insurmountable pain.
I knew it the moment my mother's words escaped her lips that pain was promised.
So, in my head...I ran.
Full speed...away from the pain that pursued my soul.

The following year of my life...I lived in a personal hell where the flames could not reach me.
They scorched my family clean. Especially my mother.
I helplessly watched her cry and scream. Her grief hit her in spasms; at unexpected moments. In such sporadic succession that I walked on eggshells in my home.

I did not smile.
I did not speak.
...and I dared not cry.

I had to keep running.
Until...

February 28, 2000.
372 days after my brother died.

I sat on my bed, distracted with something that I was drawing.
I happened to gaze over at the picture of him on my nightstand.
I quickly looked away, but felt a throbbing in my chest.
I opened my mouth, and said to my empty room:
"I miss you Mike."

Tears followed the release of my words.
Many...so many tears.
I cannot remember how long I sat mourning on my bed.
Quiet sobs turned into loud, angry wailing.

When I could cry no more...I wiped my face and saw my pencil and notepad lying on my bed.
The silence in my room was peaceful, and the words in my head gathered and aligned.
I picked up both the pencil and notepad. Wrote my very first poem.

About him.
About my brother.

So grief taught me a very personal lesson:
Running from death preoccupies you from living.

Be.Still. (Part Two -- Anger)

I hated him for what he did to me.
To my mother.

I remember nights as a small girl,
gazing at his kind, black eyes with my bed's sheer pink canopy
outlining the safety in his expression. "Good night, my baby", he would say.
And I believed him...
...after all, he was the only father I'd ever known as a girl.
He let me prop my tiny feet on his and dance across the living room to the Temptations.
He bought me beautiful, Black barbie dolls for Christmas
and
made heartfelt, awful attempts at braiding my hair while my mom worked double shifts.

But soon after I had to learn how to master the side ponytail on my own.
And my mother's role became unisex.

He left.

And I'd never known hatred until that afternoon
when I saw him raise that strong hand above my brother's head.
That same hand that I usually felt open-palmed to swat my behind after misbehaving...
...now clenched to form a fist.
My mother's shrill cry preceded
I sat at the end of the hallway feeling a lump form in my chest.
I hated him.
My world started to speed up; progressing in a spinning motion.
Circling past moments where I was content and safe...
...ending up right back where I sat at the end of my hallway.

I danced with anger.
A slow, simple grind
entrancing.
Switching back and forth from waltz to tango.
...and my world moved with us.

It wasn't until I saw him 13 years later that
my world stopped spinning.
His father had died and my mother wanted to pay respects to his family.
I wasn't expecting to see him that day, but the moment I looked up
and saw him: older, shorter, and more docile...
I froze. Swallowed. and felt no lump there.

Stillness taught me another lesson:
Forgiveness is the gate that leads to the path of Freedom.

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Be.Still. (Part One--Love)

He and I.

We are both seniors in college.
Steps away from cap -n- gowns, and a summer's length from graduate school.
So.
we are both (individually) doing this...dance.
Like a running back does as he is yards away from the endzone.
We take stance on tiptoes, avoiding and desperately dodging the things that
doesn't want he or I to achieve the goal.
(i.e. "Senioritis")
In the midst of all this...we go nowhere.
Friends...and nothing more.
Not regrettably, I mean. I do not say this with the slightest hint of remorse.
Because of one tremendous fact: we are still.

I've thought so many times about running away (metaphorically) with him.
Snatching the potential with swift hands and taking off directly for the future.
Towards the center of my heart wherein lies the desire to be with him.

Yet,
there are blessed moments where I am sitting near him...and no words are spoken.
It could be because one or both of us are tackling academics. Or cleaning.
Contentedly writing/ or nodding along to Mos Def or Little Brother.
Then.
I feel the world halt.
The chaos of life, the bright colors of the finish line's ribbon, and the encouragement of the crowd
All in an instant configure themselves,
And get in line according to priority.

And it suddenly makes sense.
Stillness gently reminds me:

God has me exactly where I need to be.

Be Still. (Intro)

Ever notice how everything is most quiet right before the sunrise?
Take a moment to calm the clamor and rest your soul.
The Lord knew that we would need moments like these before He gives us a new day.
....

More to Bear.

There are certain things that I cannot bear. And it does not involve trivial things such as the way someone chews with their mouth open, or when people do not write better than they speak. No, there are certain things that are literally unbearable to my senses, and border on heartbreaking…
1. The screams of a mourning mother
2. The display of an abused child
3. The aftermath of a hate crime
4. Desperate, angry cuts on wrists
5. The eerie silence down the hallways of a high school after a shooting
6. The hidden bruises on a broken lover’s body
7. The long lines at soup kitchens and homeless shelters
8. The existence of child pornography websites

At times, my heart is overwhelmed. Not by the temporary turmoil that I experience, but that I will raise my future children in a world where things such as these are normal. Many of us would rather shut out these images. We’d rather not discuss them because in a way, homicide keeps the earth from overpopulating, and poverty allows the economy to be stabilized.

Someone has to suffer for others to flourish.

That is the truth of our society. Our stark realism has become the way that we choose to live our lives, and it keeps us from wanting better. It has made us apathetic and detached from the basic human condition. It is a game of Russian Roulette, and we are hoping that one day it isn’t our child, or it doesn’t happen at our college campus. But who’s to say? Who makes those decisions? Who allows it all to happen?

Well, we know the answer. Quite a complicated explanation…but it can be spoken in one word: God. The things I listed are completely unbearable, and the fact that it affects us so reflects back on a tendency that goes beyond our genetic make-up. It reflects a relatable, emotional God. The Bible says that God turned His face away in silence as His Son was martyred. Why would God do that? Isn’t He beyond emotion?

We truly reflect His essence (translated “Image”). So why allow us, His Beloved, to continue to experience such heartache? Because it is required for action.

Look at our history…great convictions always precede great actions. Look at the emotions that led to the Civil Rights Movement. The anger and the heartache and the frustration. It was a gut feeling that their current treatment was immoral...DESPITE what the law allowed.

Domestic violence did not become illegal through the law…but first in the heart. Great emotions provoked law-makers to change the norm. Though laws are different throughout our world, each human being has one thing in common: emotions. And we were created to bear them. So that we can make a difference.

Love is Hard.

So.

I've been a single woman for almost 38 days...and I've written my thoughts in this little notebook everyday. Each time I think of him, I write it in the notebook. My plan is to give it to him in the event that we get back together.
It is quite possible that I will write in this notebook forever...

I can honestly say that I have faced some pretty dark moments...with only the presence of my Heavenly Father as a comfort. I have had quite a few victorious moments; where we caught rare glimpses of each other, and were reminded of what it is that we actually share. I have darted back and forth from hating you to needing you, and God has sustained my heart. He is keeping me, daily. Moment by moment.

Second by second.

There are times when I begin to think that I am being treated unfairly. That I am being taken advantage of. I think, at times, that this (or he) is not worth going through all of this pain. Being a woman, I am not built with the innate ability to ignore or distract myself from my emotions. And though I have managed to make them my servants, and not becoming enslaved by them, I still cannot ignore their presence. So, each time I want to react or give up...when I want to throw it all away...I fall to my knees and submit them to the only Person who can give me the strength to go on.

I have wanted to hurt him. Erase him completely from my memory. Make him experience what it is like to be dead to me. And tears well up in my eyes when I think on these things, because I do not wish to live life without him. I very well could...but the thought gives me such a sickening feeling.

I love this man. Truly. Even though he swears that he knows not who he is yet...I love him. The him that I know he truly is...inside. I love the him that he is becoming. I love the him that he cannot even recognize. And I see that the circumstances and issues woven in and through his heart are more entangled than he would like. So, I pray and I beg God to cradle him while he endures this road to self-discovery...hoping that when he reaches his destination; I am still who he wants in his life.

I stand in the spot that has been a constant since before we started dating: the loyal friend. Not like most, who weave into and out of his life during moments of convenience or need. Even though he is completely reflective and has retreated deeply inside of himself (making an appearance when necessary). Even when I am confused about where his mind dwells....because he doesn't talk to me as much these days. Regardless, I stand.

Here.
Scared to death to move; shushing the cries of my heart.
Blinking back tears as I take it, blow by blow.
I won't leave him now.

Love Is Hard - James Morrison

Reese's vs. Almond Joy (Ladies Version)

My first real attempt at short-story writing (that I've completed anyway...).
My muse? None other than the writer of the Original Story: N.Steven.

Enjoy.



PART ONE

I love chocolate.

Like, obsessively. And I’m not one of those females who save chocolate for seasons of PMS-ing and post-break up therapy. If I happen to wake up, it should be a good day for chocolate.

I don’t know what it is about chocolate, really. Could it be the extraordinary sweetness? Or the surge of energy and euphoria you feel after each delectable bite? Or maybe it’s the attractive, deep brown color?

Whatever the reason, I am a fan.

My weapon of choice? Almond Joy.

It’s the safe type of candy bar; it provides me with a security that’s soothing and self-assuring. As a little girl, my mom would let me eat the other half of her Almond Joy bar on the way home from church; as a treat for not cutting up with my older cousins. So naturally, after a very long day of classes and work, it’s pretty kosher to reward myself with a nice, soothing and true Almond Joy candy bar.

Eating an Almond Joy became like a routine of mine that I reverenced faithfully. Especially after I started dating Reginald. We are very different, though. Coming from a pampered, well-to-do upbringing, he’s a stark contrast to my gritty, thorough reality. At times, I think that this difference has to do with why he doesn’t understand me. Yet, he is like my favorite candy bar in many ways. The security that I feel with him sets my mind at ease, but I find myself becoming queasy at the thought of being his wife.

This is one of two huge reasons why I still haven’t given him an answer yet…
The other reason being that yesterday was Thursday.

Now, Thursdays are usually pretty typical:
5:45 am – 1st alarm goes off
7 am – 3 pm – classes
3:15 pm – Reggie waits for me outside the Biology lab room
3:30 pm – He drives me to the corner deli for a quick bite and then he drops me off at work.
8 pm - Reggie picks me up, McDonald’s in hand & takes me home.
[Usually, he stays over until the wee hours of the morning.]

Thursdays are supposed to always go like this. But, yesterday didn’t go as I’d planned…


PART TWO
Thursday(4 pm)
“I’m sorry Reggie, but Professor Stern would not let me and Beth leave until we got the pH levels right!”

“Well, you should have explained to him your work schedule! You know you cannot afford to be late to work again, Alexandria!”

Reggie knows that I hate it when he, or anyone else, calls me Alexandria. I’ve gone by Alex since the third grade, but he thinks it’s too masculine. “Alex is a boy’s name” he says.

I rolled my eyes at him.

“I do NOT need another lecture, Reginald. I am perfectly capable of handling my own business.”

Reggie scoffed.

“Oh right. Just like you handled yourself last semester by getting on academic warning and almost getting kicked out of school! Right?”

Oh, NO HE DIDN’T…

“What?!” I hissed. “You know that my family was falling apart then, and I couldn’t concentrate on –“

“Oh please. Alex. Please,” Reggie said, cutting me off, “when are you going to take responsibility for your own life?”

Heck no. That’s the last straw.

“Right now. ...PULL OVER.” I said through clenched teeth.

“But baby, it’s---”

“PULL OVER! NOW.”

I forced Reggie to pull into the nearest parking lot, jumped out of the car, and stomped off. Reggie yelled out of the car after me,
“Alexandria! You are acting childish! Come on. Quit this ghetto girl act of yours and get back in the car please!”

This man is definitely working my last nerve.

Feeling heat surge through my chest, I glared back at him. I may be street wise, but I am not ghetto.

“You’ve got some nerve, Reggie…” I paused.
“We’re through. I’m tired of this. It’s over.”

As I turned to walk away, I could feel tears forming beneath my eyelids. Not wanting Reggie to see, I turned my back to him. I heard a door open and quickly close.

Mmph. I hope this man don’t think the usual apology is going to cut it this time.

Then, I heard his car drive off.

Slightly disappointed, I looked back to see my purse and schoolbag lying on the asphalt.

Great. Now what am I going to do?

Looking around, I noticed the parking lot lay in front of a small convenience store. I also noticed that my stomach was growling. Dusting my bags off, I searched my purse, only to find a total of $1.48.

Shoot. I left my debit card on the dresser.

Irate and hungry, I started towards the tiny convenience store…praying that they carried Almond Joy candy bars.

PART THREE
(4:45 pm)
It was hot in that store. But, I momentarily ignored my body’s rising temperature and desperately scanned each section for my dependable Almond Joy bar.

Hershey bar, no.
Twix, no.
Dear Lord, it’s so hot today.

Feeling beads of sweat form at the small of my back, I tugged at the bottom of my white, button-down blouse; untucked it out of my high-waist, khaki skirt. Knotting the side of my blouse gave me little relief, so I loosened the first two buttons to let the warm air circulate around my neck and upper chest.
My stomach reminded me of my current pursuit, so I kept looking.

Three Musketeers, no.
Butterfinger, no.
Reese’s Cups, n—Mmm. I’ve never even had these before.

Picking up the bright orange package, I inspected the outside. I’d heard people rave about this “candy bar”, but being loyal to Almond Joy (not to mention being wary of all that peanut butter), I never tried it for myself…

“Something I can help you with, miss?”

That voice came out of nowhere. I didn't even notice him standing there at the end of the aisle...

“Um” I muttered, looking up, “No, I think I can---”

His smile was the first thing I noticed. It wasn’t too wide.

I remember men that had hurt me in the past always had those wide smiles. Like car salesman or those Jehovah's Witness people that come by my house from time to time. All of them wanted something.

So at some point, any wide smile on a new face became a symbol of caution. But his smile was subtle. Friendly…genuinely friendly. Hidden mostly behind the corners of his mouth. He didn't appear to want anything. Quite the opposite, I noticed.

Hmm. I bet his real smile is staggering.

Wait….aren’t I talking? What am I even saying?

I gathered myself.

“…wait. Let me start that over again”, I said, trying to salvage my dignity. “Um, where are the Almond Joy candy bars?”

“Oh those…” the gorgeous stranger said. “You don’t want those…”

Oh really? This should be good...

“I don’t...why not?”

“Oh, well an Almond Joy is nice, don’t get me wrong….But it doesn’t seem suitable for someone like you.”

I straightened and raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“Someone like me?”

Immediately sensing my defenses, he softened the more.
“No, miss. What I mean to say is...”

He paused and reached to pick up one of the neatly arranged Reese’s; slowly walking towards me. For once, I didn’t feel threatened or inclined to reach into my purse.

He continued.

“…Almond Joy’s are safe. Casual. Convenient. And you miss, don’t look like the type to need anything casual or convenient…”

As he spoke, he stood directly in front of me; purposefully breaking the seal on the Reese’s Cup wrapper. Oddly, he looked as though he’s done this before. And he wanted to show me...

“Is-is that right?” I softly stammered.

“Oh yes, ma’am. You see, a Reese’s Cup is more your manner. It’s deep and exquisite. Full-bodied. It captures your senses and takes you in. Encases you in its softness and envelopes you in its delicate passion. And it takes you slowly…”

The stranger then slid two steady fingers into the candy wrapper; pulling out one of the two tiny delights. Leaning protectively and boldly towards me, he slipped the candy’s individual wrapper off, parted his lips, and took a bite.

I could feel my knees start to give way as I watched him slowly chew. In wonder, I gazed at his mouth; darting back and forth from there to his eyes. I watched the muscles in his face, chin, and neck tense and release. I scanned the fine trail of dark hair along the bottom of his chin and along his top lip. The warm air around me thickened as he let out a low and short, satisfied sound; his long eyelashes fluttered slightly. This man was hungry. For something...and it wasn't that Reese's cup. The ecstasy on his face calmed and peace was what lay behind.

Sexy.
Beautiful, even.
...and I wanted him -- it.

I dared to venture back toward his eyes. It was then that I realized that he was focused on me. Intently. As if he’d been watching me watching him…the whole time.
I flushed red. But I couldn’t look away. So, I simply melted underneath his soft, curious gaze.

He spoke first.

“If you're interested, miss, they’re two for $1.”

Feeling like I would come undone, I grabbed two off of the shelf next to where we stood; gripping them next to my pounding chest.

“Thank you” was all I could manage.

With the same, knowing smile, he replied, “You’re most welcome, miss. Have a good day. Oh, and please come again.”

I walked off, carefully clutching the two Reese’s Cups packages; wiping the sweat off of my forehead with the back of my free hand.

You better believe I’ll be back.

Lonely In the Crowd

I have come to a decision.

I really need a Best Friend. Almost all of the people that I know in my life are there for a purpose, and a God-given purpose at that, but no one is here to offer me unconditional empathy and understanding. I am there to hold them in a strong embrace and listen to their problems and issues…stay up with them into the wee hours of the morning and pray with them…but no one is taking one second to be there for me. I am the loyal listener. The weeping heart for the pain of men. God’s given me the gift of mercy and affirmation, but my cistern remains dry most of the time.

And I’m not talking about advice. No…I get plenty of that. Everyone has a say-so in my situation on an intellectual and at times, a prophetic level. But mouths grow silent when I am not the one being strong. People are shocked when I am stand-offish and quiet; lacking the right words or the encouraging statement. I see turned backs and upturned noses when I am irrational and cruel.

And I cannot do this anymore. I can’t keep giving with no one willing to listen to me.

I get the patronizing “Are you okay?” but no one really wants to hear the answer. No one will grab me and hold me until each and every tear has left my eyes.

I recently texted a friend of mine to pray for me because of a issue I was going through with my recent dispersed relationship….she told me later that she would rather have not been in the middle… said a quick “Lord, help them” for me…and then went back to sleep.

I don’t have the time or the luxury to be weak in my life. I go to RA meetings and accountabilities in public places with people who ask me questions so that I can open my life up wide…but because there are schedules to keep and logistics to tackle…I keep a lid on what I say. It isn’t that I do not trust these people…I am longing for a Friend to completely trust and lay down my burdens to.

The reality is that I am surrounded by needy, broken people. And that I am myself.

In reading my Word, I noticed that every time Jesus attempted to get alone with the Father…or even with His closest companions…he was interrupted by the cries of the crowd. I understand that God is my life-force. He is my Best Friend. He is the only person that I can truly confide in…

…but who is my Beloved Disciple? Who are my best friends? Where are they? Why am I all alone in this?

Why am I facing the certainty of the Cross in solitude?

But didn’t Jesus? He had the disciples, yes. But they all fled. In His moment of intense need, they all abandoned Him. And there He was….enduring the sins of the world on that rugged tree….alone. And He cried out,

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani”

Even in that moment…Our Lord and Savior felt abandoned by God. His Father. He felt that God had turned His holy face away from the pain that His Only Son was enduring.

But He was there. Right there.

Regardless of His Father’s silence…Jesus paid it all.

For me.
For you.
For every lonely heart pushing through this crowded, overpopulated world.

That we would never again have to feel that coldness that Adam & his wife Eve felt as they stood looking through the outside gates of their lost paradise…

A Means to an End.

I have no desire to be honest or direct about my love life at the moment.
I don't want anyone to know how much I despise patience and the seasons that involve stillness.
This process is simply a means to an end.
And I don't want you to know that I am hating this...

Stress outlines your eyes in red, but the substance exiting my heart possess the same hue.
But I don't want to say a word.
Honesty would only turn the attention from your pain to mine...with only the latter ceasing.
So, if my absence is like a warm balm on your wounds...then I will stay away forever.
My means to an end... for you.

No. I don't want to admit this...I don't want anyone to know that I am in this tomb alone.
That I die a thousand deaths each time I am near enough to touch you.
Yet this is my means to an end...
...Because nothing can be resurrected if it isn't first lifeless.
So, I will endure these three cold, motionless days if it means that love lives here.