As an adult, I have come to realize that I always hated when my mother would try to talk to me about personal matters: my first kiss, my first boyfriend, always asking questions about my menstrual cycle. In my opinion she simply was not the right person to have an open conversation with and still is not. Why?
Imagine wanting to have a genuine conversation with an individual that is supposed to automatically be on your side. Now you hear criticism that is not constructive for every action or feeling that you have followed by negative commentary. Throw in unsolicited advice here and there for situations that were never brought to said individual’s attention. Why on earth would anyone subject themselves to such misery?
Serious relationships have come and gone. Pain and heartbreak. Joy & euphoria. None of it has been shared with her. I look at other mother daughter relationships and admire how close they are. What is it like to have a mother that is fierce with her support of her daughter? Even without this important relationship in my life, there are still many blessings.
There are other maternal women that treat me like their own daughters. There are friends that treat me more like family than a friend. Such bonds help me to remain thankful for the life that I have and the people that I know. There is more to life than a text or FB messenger.
Years ago, I walked into a restaurant to meet my boyfriend. He was a white Latin male that did not believe in God. The slow steady gaze of a young black man fell upon me as I navigated the maze of aisles. He was puffing heavily on a cigar. God only knows what was going through his mind. He did not speak or change his expression. I was in love with this rotund outcast of sorts. It was a love that turned my life upside down and tore at the very foundation of my family.
This scene is almost twenty years old. Life penetrated my interracial fantasy and love soon faded. There were too many forces pulling us apart. To this very day, I have loved others but I can not say for certain that I fell in love again. I do not even know if I want to feel that way for fear of losing all rational. It was the most trying time of my life.
Good afternoon ladies. I had the opportunity to speak to a film maker earlier today. I asked her to describe a typical day in her life. She responded with, “I wake up and I create..”. We took a moment to honor the response. I believe that there is a creator in each one of you in some way shape or form. Some of you have created a life while others of you create lives for people to live. However you do it, choose to do it on a daily basis with a smile in your heart. One love. ♥️”
Good morning ladies. Along the way, you may encounter a situation where your heart is leading you in a different way from the path that you are following. When this occurs, stop what you are doing and fly in the proper direction.
Some people march to the beat of their own drum……others create the beat. One love.
I want more. The boss laid it on the line. It was not a threat. It is more of a push for my department to get more people involved. My heart sank and burned to ashes. The wind came and blew them away. After discussing the predicament with my coworker, she responded that she wanted to retire. My response was that I need to resign. My heart is not in the game anymore and has not been for a very long time.
These days, my interests lay in inspiring women. It has always been there since the very day this blog started. As my life lays before me with hard decisions and cold coffee, the matter of my day to day living still looms on the horizon. How the hell can I support myself all of the time with health insurance on my own? It has been difficult with a regular 9-5, but I have paid a heavy price for the convenience.
This is not the decade where college was yesterday and Starbucks was life. My forties have brought up new questions that have to have answers sooner than later. My life has gone through many a transformation over the last few decades. What is it going to take to make me feel as if I am living my purpose?
Do you ever wish that you could go back in time and change your college major? As I piece together the life that I think that I want, it dawns on me that my degree does not necessarily lend itself to my future. Africana studies. Womens’ studies. Ethnomusicology. By the same token, many people with degrees in these areas end up in the very job that I have now: education……
Good evening ladies. Due to popular demand, I have decided to offer another ode. It is titled:
Ode to the Most Current MF: Jussie
Mf. It is February. The shortest month of the entire year has been designated to celebrate a massive part of American history that often goes undetected and whitewashed…..this did not stop your motherfuckery.
Mf. You represent two marginalized societies. You are a black gay man living in the United States of Amerikkka with its head honcho wearing the largest white hood…..this did not stop your motherfuckery.
Mf. Most of us will never see $65,000.00 in a year what say per episode…this did not stop your motherfuckery…
Mf. Not once did you consider Law & Order prior to concocting your own predicament…..nothing stopped the motherfuckery.
Therapy did not enter your mind. Nay.
You really didn’t think that anyone would discover all of the holes? Nay.
Now, we have a new hash tag and food for the ultimate roast. Everyone else may call you Jussie….not I sir. I don’t deal with Bamas……..I deal with Mfs…..and Mf, you just got MF of 2019. May your reign be long and viral.
Let us pray…..
A pleasant good night to all of the ladies. Tonight, I would like to offer an Ode…to the Mf.
The Mf is completely clueless to how life is supposed to flow. It interrupts classes for unimportant reasons and simply talks, and talks, and talks…until people are struck with rigor and even then….the sound of the loud booming voice continues…..
The Mf does not arrive prepared for any situation but expects to be properly compensated for time wasted. There is no rhyme or reason to it’s game….simply an array of straight fuckery….
The biggest problem with the proper development of a Mf is that it can thrive in any element….workplace, relationship, locker room, doctors office, the damn morgue…..a true Mf knows no bounds. It is properly prepared in the art of true motherfuckery and works on a daily basis to perfect its craft.
And so I say to all of you, there is really no true way for you to protect yourself from Mfs. They are big and small, old and young, fat and skinny….but one thing always remains true….
A Mf is a Mf.
Have a pleasant evening.
Good evening ladies. I hope that Wednesday finds you well. How are your daily endeavors? Are you happy? Are they fulfilling? Do you question if you have reached your full potential because you know there has to be more?
Journal. Ask questions. Watch a YouTube video. Talk to others that feel the same way. Find just the right book that suits your situation. If at all possible, attend a presentation/lecture to expand your possibilities…..unless you become the presenter yourself..
Trailblaze on your own behalf. The best brand that you will ever invest in is yourself. Think how much better the world turns when you are running at full blast.”
It was another church service. I must have been in middle school. There I sat in the church service next to my mother. We never sat in the front but more towards the back. People were going up to the altar as the pastor gave his call. This is something that never resonated with me. It was a very emotional time for many people but it simply left me in an unbothered state. However, on this day, my mother decided that both of us were going to the altar.
She was sitting to my left instead of my right. I would have to move in order for her to leave the pew. She stood there hastening me to get up and go with her. It was the last thing on earth that I wanted to do. My eyes could have cried tears of embarrassment. There I was in front of the entire church; uncomfortable.