It started with a joke…

I wrote this joke/poem a few months back when I was feeling lonely…

Knock Knock!

Who’s There?


Nobody who?

Nobody but you!

I felt very alone. Like I was the only one in this place that is supposed to be a relationship. I was the only one showing signs of concern and desires to repair whatever was wrong. I was the only one that wanted to discuss it. I was the only one that noticed there was something different happening…I noticed that I was the only one.

And then…it was alluded to but not specifically spoken…so there I go again noticing things. I noticed that the words were not being spoken but the intent was there. So I said it, “are you saying that we are breaking up?!” Yup.

<Sidebar: No body likes to be the bad guy and if there’s a slew of people that do, I need their contact info. Situations like this stem and spider web because some people, regardless of how strong they think they are, dont have the courage to be the bad guy. Many of these people would rather their peers read the signs along the way or pick up on random hints…or do the dirty work for them. I surmise that this is because no one likes to lose favor or be the one that caused the pain. Sorry folks, we all cause pain. Hurt people hurt other people. Im not saying I agree with it, Im just saying I understand. Sidebar Closed>

The response hit me quickly and I went into defense mode. I didn’t want that to happen. I got afraid. I got upset, and if its humanly possible to feel even more alone…I did. I may have felt so alone, I left myself.

The next few days were blurry and desolate, even with the sun shinning. I searched for some purpose and reason why this was happening to us because we were strong. Holding it down, not perfect but WE were WE.

Sure, were there things that led up to this? Yes absolutely but if I dont know what they are…how do I acknowledge them and know how to respond to them? Better yet, how do WE do this?

And thats when it dawned on me…WE had been absent for a long time even if I didnt see it or want to admit it. I had been broken up with a long time ago. That realization pissed me off and it still pisses me off. Even as I recognize and hold on to the mutual love and respect that created the foundation for WE, Im still pissed off about it. Why!? Because I realized that I was the only one having trouble with the state of affairs because I was the only one still there. I had been abandoned a long time ago. And whats event more infuriating because I had been asking…checking…offering myself…constantly running out on to that limb putting myself out there repeatedly.

Let’s go out. Let me take you to dinner. Do we need to talk to someone. Are you okay? Whats wrong? Are you depressed? How can I help? Do you not like or love me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore?
<Sidebar: I’m long passed being too proud to say that I need help and because Im not ashamed of this, Im not ashamed of asking those I love if they need help. Newsflash to me…this is me, not everyone else so some people could be down and out, on their last leg and would NEVER tell anyone they needed help nor would they take it if it was offered. Sidebar Closed>

All yes or no questions that were either unanswered or answered in the un-affirmative so I trudged on thinking that it was a rough patch that relationships experience. I chalked it up to inevitable change and I pressed forward.

I dont give up easily, Ive always been the type to make an effort to fix what I know is broken. I dont just walk away from it but I heard my momma’s voice in the distance, “everybody isnt like you, everybody wont do what you would do”, She used to say this all of the time but apparently not often enough or when I needed to hear it.

So here I am reeling in and out of my own private hell. Wanting my relationship back but knowing at the moment it doesnt exist or what semblance of it that does exist is not the one Im accustomed to.

Agreeing that the friendship is the most important piece that WE have between us but knowing that its not an easy transition. I dont have an emotional dial or switch to calibrate the way I feel in the moment.

And again…this is whats really eating at me. I feel like Im the only one dealing with it this way because I was the only one thinking that it was something that it wasnt.

I feel like a fucking fool. Im standing in the mirror looking at myself and thinking…”you damn fool! that’s your problem, you wait for other people tell you what time it is when you’re wearing a watch. WTF!? is wrong with you?” I trusted someone else to do what I could have done but didnt.

I trust people. There’s no such thing as having to earn my trust. I dont understand people who say their trust has to be earned as an initial situation. I get having to earn it back if its been lost or taken advantage of but earn your trust upfront?…how or why? If I’m a stranger to you, what can I do to earn your trust? You dont know me. So in reality…we all trust upfront, its like a greeting. Most people say hello until they are given a reason not to do so…thats how my trust is, I trust people until they give me a reason not to.

Which is not really a fair arrangement to be honest…here I am trusting people all willy nilly and they dont even know it. They dont even know that they have this responsibility. Still I have given it to them and if you’re wondering not everyone gets this arrangement. Only people I care about (which isnt many) are under such a clause. But I trusted someone to do something for me that I could do myself. I had just as much of an opportunity to breakup and move but I didnt. I still wanted the relationship and I still do but for lack of better words and being cliche, I know this process must occur. Its a cyclical evolution that I must experience because its a part of growing as a person. I cant just snap my fingers and act like it never happened because something led to this point. I may not know exactly what that something or somethings are but I know that I have to search for them independently.

I hopeful that this transition makes us both better for ourselves as well each other. Everyone has to take responsibility for their own pleasure, pain, and turmoil in life. We are solely responsible for recognizing those instances or surrounding ourselves with people that will point it out and help us correct it.

I dont hear my momma’s voice as much as I used to but I hope that I can recall it when I need it most because part of me owning my own shit is also accepting that everyone isnt like me and wont do what I would do even if I would do it for them.

So as the days go on and I waft in and out of different emotions, I’m praying for peace and fortitude along the way.



Catching Up

I was supposed to blog on Monday but…I got distracted.

Monday was the first time in a long time that I disconnected from all of my electronic devices and took a walk. Albeit a short walk, I left my bluetooth headset, smart watch, and cellphone at home, grabbed an old issue of Ebony Magazine with Ava DuVernay on the cover, hitched Yuri to his lease and took off.

During that time I had my face mostly in the magazine…and made a few rediscoveries. The most important being, print literature will always and forever be the most informative form of communication ever and its also the reason why so many people are at a loss for relevant content.

Today, I purchased 2 newspapers. The Dallas Morning News and a Barrons. The last time I read a newspaper, I borrowed it from a coworker to get some information on a stock and to use it for wrapping glass during a move. Ive been threatening to subscribe to the paper ever since.

Social media is great! But its also very cloudy. Nothing will replace the value of knowing whats going on in your immediate surroundings as its delivered by those who are also residents of your immediate surroundings and have saw fit to draft articles of information they have deemed important to their peers.

I think I will actually purchase a newspaper subscription…eventually.

PS. I think I was supposed to include something else in this blog but…Ive forgotten now.



Revelations 03/20/2017

Remember, you are responsible for your own emotions. You are responsible for how you react and respond to those around you. That does not mean that you are not allowed to express or acknowledge how you feel. It means that you must accept responsibility for your emotional reactions and responses.

Intense emotional responses can be debilitating but when you remind yourself that you are in control, the waves are easier to navigate.

I’ve found myself in a holding pattering of wait. I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me what they are already showing me in their actions. For whatever reason, I want to hear them speak the words to me. Perhaps hearing it will be more of a reality to me than the daily experience of their behavior. The waiting is taking its toll on my emotions. I find myself going from one extreme to the next and back again. And this is where the ability to gain and maintain control is most important.

Some people will never admit their truths, especially when it will expose their wrongdoings or ill intentions. Some people would rather wait out the inevitable or hope that it goes away. I must admit, it feels like being on a runaway train that I know is going to crash. I have two choices, jump off or endure the crash while hoping I survive either outcome.

As I ride the rails of this high-speed chase to clarity, I’m trying to learn how not to wait. How do I release my expectations? I realize that when I’m waiting on my expectations to be met, Im allowing someone else to dictate my moves. Im allowing someone else to control me. If my actions are contingent upon those of another, I will forever be someone else’s shadow. Still, knowing this doesn’t birth an answer to my question. How do I detach from what I want? God could tell me to my face that I will not get what I want and I still wouldn’t know how to not want it.

In the meantime, I’ll work on the maintenance of my emotional well-being.

Parenting: Spring Break Day 2 (Where’s The Village?)

Parenting literally is the most thankless job ever.

Imagine showing up somewhere everyday, giving it your absolute very best and these little ingrates still have the nerve to complain and express dissatisfaction. And sure, teaching gratitude and manners is part of the parenting curriculum but I’m sure every mom, dad, teacher, guardian, etc would agree with me when I say, this curriculum is a like the very parenting manual itself, its just a blank page. That page remains blank until the parent realizes there’s a need for the instruction and thus it is born of trial and error.

Buuuut, like loyal gluttons for punishment, most of us continue show up, filled with the most sincerest of intentions hoping for a day better than the one before. And if we are lucky we get that better day. And luck be a lady! Please be a lady.

We pray that on the latter end of these days…when the mandatory hands-on parenting is less of a need, something of value has bloomed withing the souls of our children. Depending on how optimistic you are, that something can be seen as the life that was sucked from your soul as your children were growing up that has now manifested itself in middle-aged bitterness or the very best parts of you that you graciously donated to your children along the way.






Wheels of Steel

Car buying can be a headache. The process of sitting at a dealership for hours is enough to saddle me back into the seat of my old hoopty and keep it moving. Furthermore the idea of being duped on a purchase is even more of an annoyance.

But, we cant be held hostage to hour fears forever so there’s nothing left to do but get on with it and get it over with, though  not with haste might I add. I advise that you know exactly what you want in your next vehicle and know what your expectations are; believe it or not, they are not the same thing.

What I wanted was an SUV with a 3rd Row Seat and Rear A/C. Those were my wants/needs. And for the most part, that’s what I got but once I received it. I realized that I also had expectations.

I expected that a 2015 model vehicle should have certain standard features such as lighted vanity mirrors, compass system, secured fuel tank, auxiliary/usb ports, auto on/off headlights, hands-free blue-tooth system, fuel measurement, just to name a few.

As of 2017 technology has advanced in such a way that the aforementioned accommodations would be more of a chore to omit from a vehicle than it would be to include them.

Granted, I do realize that some vehicles are manufactured for specific purposes, such as rentals, fleet use, models, etc., still, I cant help buy feels a tiny bit of buyer’s remorse after having purchased a 2015 Dodge Journey STX.

I purchased this vehicle from CarMax, which BTW is my favorite place to buy cars. They have streamlined the car buying process to a science and made it less daunting for consumers. The time I spent actually purchasing the vehicle was far less time consuming than my decision making process. I appreciate that greatly. Im sure CarMax has an internal sequential process that is not specifically disclosed to customers but I know there is some type of ordered steps in this process due to the fact that I didnt spend hours sitting at the cube or desk of a desperate sales-person haggling over the price of the vehicle.

Meanwhile after having and driving the 2015 Dodge Journey STX for approximately 6 Days, I’ve discovered a few things about this make and model. *Disclaimer: I haven’t read the manual for this vehicle yet (but who does?) I’m still getting to know some of the features and discovering those that are available and those that are not. The list below is not exclusive of the information that was advertised of the vehichle’s features however they are items that I immediately noticed as absent.

  1. The fuel tank doesn’t lock.
  2. There are no lights around the vanity mirror.
  3. The blue-tooth capability of this model may or may not be available in the one that I purchased. While there is a U-Connect menu option that displays when I start the car, upon calling the number on the screen for assistance, the representative informed me that this was not available in my vehicle. Im not sure how true this is.
  4. Remote start. Either of have yet to learn this feature or its non-existent. Although, it was advertised on CarMax’s ad.
  5. The lights are on automatic. I found this to be the most minimal of the features that should be standard. I own a 2008 sedan that is equipped with auto on/off light but Dodge couldnt find the space to add them into a 2015? Wow.
  6. Compass/navigation. Either it doesnt exist or I dont know how to access it. A best if a system has an LCD touch screen, the inclusion of a basic compass navigation should be present #dodgefailmaybe.
  7. The glove compartment is TINY. I have been guilty of stuffing the GC with as many random “you-never-know” items as possible but this GC is doesnt even have enough space for the “just-in-case” items such as travel wipes, a small note book, and pen. You’d think there was a real space compromise on this but eh…its minor. I’ll let it pass.

Again, I stress, I havent gotten to know the full extent of the in-dash LCD system yet but there are definitely some limitations. I’ll update this post as I discover new feature leads.



Just do it. That’s what i thought as watched the cursor blink on my phone after I decided to write.

I was going to write about my never ending parenting struggle.. which all things considered . hard indeed but not as bad as I  exclaim when in the moment. More recently I found myself complaining that my daddy bought my daughter . ..the 11 year old that has lost enough sweaters and jackets to clothe a small village . $80 coat. I was peeved for a number of reasons. But suddenly my peeves were extinguished as i thought back before he bought the coat. I  watched the way my daddy looked as he walked along side her in the department store to let her pick out any coat she wanted. She was all bubbly and bouncing and happy.. as she always is when hes around . I also noticed how he enjoyed the opportunity to let her have anything she wanted in that moment . It was as if he had the world tucked away in the pockets of his dusty, paint stained, ripped, and worn jeans and he was prepared to produce anything she asked for. . .or myself for that matter. This was one of the rare but frequent enough to remember times my daddy was proud of himself for being able to do for his family whatever we needed without difficulty or negotiation with his limited income. He was happy. so happy that I think he’d forgotten about his ailing knee and sore back . He hadnt complained about either if them once between the car ride from his house to the store.

I realized several things after I was finally able to be alone with my thoughts and tally my angst for my daddy’s insistence on spoiling my child.

  1. This is my daddy. This is the man that raised me, this is the man that spoiled me. Why should I expect any different of him because his new muse is my child. Full Disclosure: my daddy still spoils me…its just that the damage of it doesn’t blatantly affect anyone else because I’m an adult. My daughter on the other hand…will be my little monster to tame.
  2. They are both happy. My daddy and my daughter are happy together. I think she keeps him going. And he gives her someone to adore without a limit. She gets so excited when he is around that she loses all focus. “Pawpaw is here!” and whatever it was that she was doing or supposed to be doing…will NOT get done or will be forgotten.
  3. I really love my Daddy. He’s always been my favorite. My Momma knew it and she wasnt bothered by it either. He always held her up to me. Even when he was mad at her. He never badmouthed her to me when they were at odds. One time she pissed me off to no end and I was talking to him about it. He responded to me with limited words but I knew he was listening and then he said “thats your momma, you only get one momma, I dont have my momma any more. Thats your momma” Simple enough but I understood. I got it. It didnt decrease my anger at the time but I got his point. No matter how mad she made me. She was still my momma and he was still my favorite.
  4. Im suspicous of his actions lately. And maybe his relentless spoiling of my daughter is his way of soaking up all of the time they have together. Sure, he’s not on his deathbed or anything but he’s not the healthiest person. If there’s a diagnosis that he’s aware of. He probably wont tell me but he’ll carry on with a plan of his own to be as present for us as he can be. That includes him giving us copious amounts of money at random times even when he doesnt have much of his own.


Ultimately, parenting is hard for me. I find it difficult to make certain decisions and be present for certain things and control the environment. It makes me nervous and anxious. When things happen unexpectedly it throws me off my square and I have to recalibrate. But…I want to break the psychological mold that causes us to respond to the traumatic and negative experiences more frequently and more intensely than the positive experiences.

Me To Me: Just Do It, Stop Complaining!

Black August

One of my good friends and author of the book #YBA  always sends me great informative reads in the form of articles, blogs, videos, etc. This morning she sent me a piece from BOSSIP. The editorial was about a movement stemming from the efforts of several members of the Black Panther Party and Black Guerrilla Family that took place in the 70s called Black August. The read stirred up some of my emotions about Black History on a larger scale.

Black History Month was my favorite time of year in elementary school. It meant that we would deviate from the staple subjects for a few weeks while learning more about people that looked like us and where we came from. My most coveted subtopic of the BHM was the Ancient Egyptians. I was fascinated by the pyramids, how they were built, the kings, queens, pharos, dynasties, languages, clothing, etc. It was all astonishing to me. My 5th and 6th grade teachers were my Black History Heroes because they made sure they gave us the sage of our history. They played Motown Classics for us, they wrote plays for us to act out some of the notable events of the Civil Rights Movement and allowed us to explore on our own. I love them for that! I didn’t know how rich I was as a 11/12-year-old.

But as I got older, I began to miss Black History and that’s because my exposure was becoming less frequent.

In Jr High there were a few posters strewn about the school and the occasional viewing of Eyes On the Prize during BHM but nothing of quality consumption. I never felt like I learned anything new during BHM in Jr. High.

By the time I got to high school, my exposure was almost non-existent. So much so, that I can only recall a single memory—the time my English Teacher Ms. Allen allowed me to choose my own Research Paper topic. I chose the Pyramids of Giza. This is the only memory I have of Black History in high school—literally! And although I had more things distracting me in high school than I did in Jr High and Elementary, I was attentive to things that were interesting to me…like Black History. Since I was more likely to study Black History at school than other places and the amount of teaching was very limited if any at all, I stopped noticing the month was recurring—outside of the McDonalds murals on the sides of buses and the radio sound bites on KKDA.

College wasn’t much different. As a college student, you have the freedom of choosing what you will study. This was a freedom that I didn’t take full advantage of. I was more concerned about survival and income. I could have chosen to major in African American Studies or World History, or any other topic that would give me the chance to expand my minimal knowledge of Black History. Buuuuuut, I didn’t. I chose Journalism and Mass Communications—which was subsequently changed after I realized the lack of income without a creative niche. Still, I didn’t choose anything remotely close to Black History.

Circa age 35, I find myself filled with thousands of random facts and topics from the Harlem Renaissance, the Moors, the different variations and origins of the slang term “Nigga”, albinism, Eve Gene, mutating genes, melanin, etc. You name it, if it has or had some derivative of Africa, chances are I know something about it and if I don’t, I will go research it. This is why my friend sends me such reads as Black August for Black Survival.

After reading Black August for Black Survival, I learned something new. Just that quick. I had never heard of Black August, its relation to the Soledad Brothers, nor any of its attributes. Needless to say, this is exactly why Black History is vital to our community. We will never know every detail about our past but there’s definitely room to gain more. These are the very gems that must be converted into normalcies of knowledge.

I have an immeasurable appreciation for learning about events such as Black August because they present a chronological progression to the plight of Black People. They connect the dots to some of the oppressive systems that exist today which contributes to our efforts of dismantling them. Without knowing how things started, it’s difficult to fashion an end.

Not only should we continue acknowledging and sharing events such as Black August, I believe that the Black History should be a standard in all United States public school systems that administer US History as a core subject. If the public school system can accept the taxpayer dollars of blacks, why can’t it educate their children about their cultural histories?

The absence of Black History in public schools has led to a misconception of who African Americans are as a people and their contributions to the United States as a whole. As well, the minimal amount of Black History that is available in public schools is often inaccurate and misleading and has subsequently altered the perceptions that most non-blacks have of African-American people. Unsurprisingly this—among other things has resulted in a level of distrust in the quality of education that is provided in Black Communities. How can we be confident in the content of what our children are learning when its being incorrectly presented if at all? US Textbooks Provide Incorrect Data to Students

Given the fact that Africa is the birthplace of human civilization, it stands to reason why Black History is factually more history of the United States than what is currently being dispensed in public school textbooks and promulgated by teachers and administrators.

Black History deserves standardization and recognition of its commonplace in the US. The independence of Black History and US History only fuels racism and division in American Society and gives legs to the stereotypes that have developed among US Citizens.

Until the time comes that we can identify and educate without opposition the true chronological foundation between Africa and its neighboring countries, events such as Black August and many more integral facts will continue to be under-acknowledged by the whole and marginalized by short stents of celebratory memorializing throughout the year.