I Want What I Want

Saturday morning evaluating many aspects of my life and I've come to the conclusion, I'm just a ball of confusion.

My eye is on the prize.

The prize - happiness.

The problem?

Me.

I give until it hurts as that is the way i was raised, problem is they never explained how painful that can be.  I'm not talking material here either.  I'm talking of Self.

Bite your tongue when you should let it be free.  Your heart yearns for one thing but your mind tells you something completely different.

Sometimes I wish I was filled with a whole lot of naivete and maybe I could float through life and it not make my head hurt so much, but the veil has been lifted and as easy as it may seem to be naive, the outcome is tragic as to not know is bad and not wanting to know is worse.

See what I mean?  Ball of confusion.

There are people and situations and things that make me Happy.  I'm not ill here.  Still, even with those things that make me happy - the others that don't can crush the happiness real quick.

I dislike unfairness.

I DISLIKE UNFAIRNESS.

I dislike abuse.

I DISLIKE ABUSE.

I dislike ignorance without a light at the end of the tunnel.

I DISLIKE IGNORANCE WITHOUT A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.

I say light at the end of the tunnel because I know that not even the smartest of individuals know everything - but they always have that light because they know that there is always more out there.  Some are happy with basking in ignorance.  Some are comfortable in it... and well.  I DISLIKE THAT.

But... who am I to hate on their happiness?

Who am I?

A ball of confusion.

That hates on Happiness that I don't quite get.

So my eyes are on the prize...

I want, I crave Happiness...

The kind I understand
and can bask in
and feel me in
and not feel constrained
confined
just FREE...

woooo SAH...

Last Call

common sense can beat love...
love can make you blind, willing to accept
the unacceptable.
only common sense can accept the fact
that the unacceptable is well
unacceptable.
it is a battle of the wills of course
the heart cries, aches, breaks
common sense challenges the brain
to weigh the pros and cons
the wins and loses
and if there is an imbalance
then it doesn't make sense
common sense

the thing is, true love is not common...
very rare
yet it has its challenges
and yes, i'll be the one to say it -love is not 50/50
i don't care what the romance novels/movies state
some days you love them more than they love you
and they love you more than you love them
but what if...
you can't...
let go?

their name is the first word out of your mouth in the morning
while brushing your teeth
at work in the middle of a project and the thought of them
pops in your mind
yet you know...
or maybe i should say
common sense tells you NO...

no matter the feelings
they can never give you what you need - even when they want to
that even their best is not good enough
not that you are picky
but your needs have to be met
and well
they simply cannot manage to
meet your needs

you also know that you can't meet their needs
as everything in your being is trying to
but to do so is letting go of you
the you they really love
just like you don't expect them to change
prefer that they don't
because they are exactly the way you love them.

i have battled  forever for one love
and the one love i have battled for
simply makes no common sense...

New Job - New Beginnings - New Me?

At the beginning of this year I promised myself I would stop being the one that always compromise and that one of two things would happen with my former job of 14 years.  Either they give me what I deserve or I had to leave.

This was a hard decision to come by, first - I'm attached to my co-workers.  They are my extended family and I always worried about what would happen to them if I left as I was very protective of my staff - but I was going crazy.  To the point of seeing a therapist, discussing depression and how unhappy I was at my job.  I knew they could give me what I wanted, but just didn't want to; and if they couldn't give me what I wanted after 14 years when I knew I deserved it, I refused to let another full year go by with me in the same unhappy position.

So tomorrow - I start a new job.  More responsibility.  Not necessarily what I envisioned my new position to be, but it is a step up and has new possibilities.  I plan on walking in there a new me.  Not internalizing everything.  Do my job and do it well.  Do not let things build up - tell them how I feel straight out and not wait on them to recognize the wonderful job that I'm doing, but point it out periodically explaining that I am not there to sit and stay in the same place - I want advancement, I want achievement.

Is this industry my hearts desire?  No but I'm good at it, but this time I'm going to make sure that I make the time for the things that are my hearts desire.  Learning more (possibly going back to school), writing freely, taking time for me.  Last job swallowed me and I allowed it to happen.  This time I'm doing it my way.

This time...

I'm doing it MY way...

Black Woman That Sees & Hears 2004 Edition

Yes...

She's heard and she's seen

But what about how she FEELS?

Screaming but he can't hear, deaf to her yelling from deep within.  

He worries more about the shape of her ass

instead of the shape of her MIND...

This mind - the one that mothered him and others

before her body learned the meaning of birth.

Man-Child they honor & commend

Woman-Child they overlook and dismiss -

because her job is so common, so ordinary...

They need to recognize how EXTRA-ordinary it truly is...

Carrying, bearing more than her weight - finding strength through the

will of survival...

Again she screams, this time points -

but he can't see, refuses to be shown - his eyes focus on everything but her.

Only when the need between his thighs beg for her to quinch that thirst.

Sad but he views her as his enemy most days, reality

should show him she's the surest thing he's got.

Bitter she becomes, because she starts to realize that her flesh

is what he only desires.  So she over compensates with the Man-Child

she gives birth to, supposedly trying to teach him the right and

wrong way to love a woman.  Not realizing that she is looking for

him to give her what his father couldn't and what her father before

him couldn't give - completion and absolution.  Bitching her 

Man-Child to become her Man or another Man's Man.

Soon the mystery of a woman is lost in the arms of his Momma.  Becoming

his mother's Man & best girlfriend - snapping fingers and looking better 

in Momma's dress than she does.  What mystery is there of a woman

when Momma shares her deepest secrets and pains - 

with an everyday helping of ass on television as frequent as commercials? 

He knows everything before his brain learns to wonder.

Can't ask questions about what he already knows the answers to.  Soon, no man 

around to show him Manhood - he begins to crush & lust after the unknown, what 

Momma has been crying about for so long - a Man.

Yes...

She's finally seeing & hearing...

But can YOU hear HER?  See HER?

LISTEN.... to HER?

How can you when you blame everything on her?

Everything wrong in your world is because of her?

She can't pick you up fast enough,

Let you go just enough,

Kiss your ass right enough,

Bed you down long enough,

Get pregnant not enough,

Listen to everything you say just enough,

Smile and bare it...

ENOUGH!

She's tired...

and everything that you had the right to boast with pride about...

She's lost it...

Can't find it...

No Pride...

No Care...

No More...

She's Blind, Deaf & Dumb

Numb, so numb...

She has a book of things she's done for you -

But she can't carry it anymore...

Brother, all I ask... 

What are YOU going to do?

Sankofa Tattoo

This is the tattoo I got today.  I have two others that I got in my early 20's.  First one is my name w/ a musical note that looks more like an "and" sign.  Real creative I know.  I love music so I thought it was nice - then.  I think I'll get it covered up when I get enough guts to go back. The 2nd tattoo is a heart w/ a peace sign in the middle.  I still like that one.  Now I have this one that has a special meaning to me.  

This bird is the Adinkra symbol for Sankofa which means, "It is not taboo to go back and fetch what you forgot".  Which basically translates to in order to know your future, you must know your past.  Since I'm on a family history/genealogy frenzy - it makes perfect sense.  

The tattoo was painful, but what took my mind off of the pain is thinking of all the pain my ancestors endured in order for me to be here. All the abuse, mistreatment and hard labor this tattoo represents that.  What I also find odd is I happened to have them put it on my arm that I have this long scar from a childhood injury.  If you look closely you can see my scar - this was not by design, I didn't even think of it when I told them to put the tattoo there.  Yet there are no coincidences...

If you haven't visited my blog on my research and stories of my family's history please visit FE's Sankofa Quest.  

July 4, 1976 - Bicentennial - My Independence Day

A Family in Turmoil...

I was seven, excited about the Fourth of July as most kids around my age were.  This is back when you could still purchase fireworks (not the boring safe ones sold today). My favorite were the firecrackers and as much as I enjoyed the firecrackers, they frightened me a bit because my older siblings and cousins used to tell stories of someone they knew who had fingers blown off or eyeball blown out by holding a firecracker too long.  So whenever it was my turn to light one, I in most cases would break off running before I could actually light the firecracker.  Then go back feeling like a coward as my siblings and cousins would make fun of me.  When I would actually light it, I'd damn near kill myself running and tripping from it, so as I sit and type this little ditty about a little girl named Felicia, I start to wonder about those horrifying stories I was told.  Now the finger story may be true, but the eyeball?  I now picture a child just as frightened as I was hauling ass away from it and put their eyeball out in a number of different ways, but a firecracker?  Maybe not.

Well this day the first part of the holiday was celebrated at my parents apartment in West Oakland, CA. Acorn Apartments to be exact.  Our family were some of the first tenants in this complex before all of the craziness begin happening there.  Contrary to popular opinion, in my youth Acorn was a neighborhood, we looked out for one another. Were there drugs?  Yes, but now I live in Foster City, CA and I see regular drug transactions and stealing.  So...................

I remember going to Pond's Grocery Store when I was a kid, they made the best Shrimp Fried Rice.  My mother would send me there to get the Fried Rice, a note to tell them to let me buy her cigarettes and whatever else she needed from there.  My treat for going to Pond's would be a Nestle Crunch candy bar, which at the time cost a big whopping twenty-five cents.

So there was a bunch of us kids during this holiday, running around chasing each other, be it sibling, cousin or neighborhood friend having a good time, yet my distant hearing could pick up on the fact that my parents were having another argument.  As a child I would watch this ebb and flow of my parents relationship, they loved as hard as they fought and yes it could be physical at times.  My father would hurt my mother physically, but she was clever and always knew how to get him back emotionally, mentally and sometimes physically when the Gods of Strength happened to be on her side.  That day felt a bit different though as it seemed that is all they did that day.  I'd go in to get a glass of water, arguing.  Come back a bit later to use the bathroom, arguing.  Ask if I could go to the store, arguing.  It was just different that particular day.

Well as the day started turning into the evening, my father yelled at us kids to get in the car, as he had to take my older siblings home so they could spend it with their mother. Then we were going to Richmond to watch the fireworks on the water (I wonder if they still do that) and then on to my cousin's house where in the evenings is when the adults would do their fireworks, which tended to be more dangerous.  So we piled up in my parents 1975 Monte Carlo (no seat belts, kids sitting on each others laps and headed to Richmond, arguing...

After he dropped my siblings off the arguing intensified and I remember being scared and started to cry.  I kept it silent because if my father heard me, he'd begin yelling at me and would probably not let me see the fireworks - these are the things that run through a 7 year old's mind.  We arrived in Richmond and saw my cousins already parked in the area to watch the show.  The arguing stopped for about 20min, long enough for me and my cousin to get on the hood of the Monte Carlo, sitting Indian style with Kim in my lap to watch the show.  Fireworks start, parents begin arguing again and for the life of me I truly cannot remember what it was about, but it was different. There was venom spilling from each parent's lips and now that I think about it, the wrong fireworks in their eyes.

At the height of the show, my father slapped my mother.  I sat Kim on the car and ran over to stop him (this is what a child in a domestic abuse home does).  She slapped him back and you can see she put everything she had in it, because he was 6'4 and she was 5' on a good day.  As I try to get in between them, my older cousin pushes me out of the way and breaks it up.  I cry not sure why they are fighting, my mother then put me and my sister in the car and rolls down the window smoking cigarette after cigarette.  My father standing outside still yelling, making threats, etc. I'm embarrassed and scared all the other people that came to watch the show staring at us, some leaving.  My mother usually would still be arguing, but she just sat in the car, smoking her cigarettes, staring at my father making an ass out of himself.

Now for some odd reason, they thought it was still okay to go to my cousin's house after this fiasco to do fireworks.  My cousin told my father to ride with him, to hopefully calm him down before we got to their house and my mother followed.  We arrive at John F. Kennedy Manor in Richmond.  My cousin pulls in the parking lot and my father jumps out of the car, my mother had not parked yet, she decided it would be more fun to try to run him down instead.  My mother was on the sidewalk chasing him (he could run) I just remember closing my eyes crying and hugging my sister tight.  Years after this night I remember my mother telling me right before she was about to hit a car to get to him to run him down it dawned on her what this would do to her children.  She kills him, where would we be? They may not have agreed on much, but they did agree on how we should be cared for.  So she backed the car up off of the sidewalk and we went to one of her friends house to stay for the night.

That was the end of my parents marriage and my first day of Independence.  Life for me after that day changed in many ways as if a veil was removed.  We moved from Oakland to Sapulpa, Oklahoma for a year, then on to different parts of southern California for a few years and eventually back to Oakland.  I went to numerous schools, lived in different versions of a family home and each move, each school, each friend gained, each friend lost changed a happy little girl into a child constantly on her toes and finding it very hard to trust.

My relationship with my father changed of course.  He moved on, married again - but he was unhappy.  He was the type of man that had to have somebody, be it good or bad. My mother on the other hand tried to move on, but never could find that fit.  Plus she begin having health problems and being a single mother was always her first priority and she sacrificed a lot for me and my sister.

I on the other hand had to ween myself off of my father.  Things were different now, I had to help my mother with my sister and her health issues.  As much as I loved my father, he felt like the enemy a good portion of the time.  He wasn't there.  Yes, physically he was, but emotionally and mentally he wasn't and I had to step up in areas that he shouldn't have allowed his child to do.

But...

There is forgiveness.  Now I can look at it with an adult's eye, I can see it wasn't all his fault, it wasn't really anyone's fault.  It was just life.  It happened exactly as it was supposed to happen so I could be the person I am today.  There was a lot of pain and misunderstanding and a lot of dysfunction. Yet I'm here, I broke the cycle, I refuse to live like that, I refuse to bring a child into that.  I realize my parents did the best that they could with what they had, so in my mind that makes them great parents.  I never doubted the love - I knew I was loved and as I look over their lives, I realize that they broke some cycles as well, so it all sums up to it being a work in progress.

So this holiday is something different for me - I don't celebrate it for the traditional reasons (which I have issues with, but that is a different blog altogether).  I celebrate it because I survived it.  No matter the confusion and the pain, I made it.  Ashe...