Silent Scorpion: The Serial Dater's official time of death was Saturday, July 5, 2015. It happened when I met and fell in love with my now fiance on a rooftop in Brooklyn. Brooklyn is also where we're going to celebrate our union with a small (and I mean small) number of family and friends. The day will not include a ceremony. This has been a point of contention with everyone around me who's projections run a muck when having a conversation about my wedding.
"YOU'RE NOT HAVING A CEREMONY???!!! WHYYYY?!!"
Short Answer: I've never wanted a traditional wedding.
Pauses for gasps.
Long Answer: I have never dreamed about a wedding. I've dreamed about being married and having a husband but I never had a desire to walk down the aisle in front of family and friends. I am excited to be there for the people I love and participate in traditional weddings, but anyone who truly knows me, knows I have never had the desire to have one of my own. A few friends of mine commented that they wouldn't be surprised if I eloped and trust me, we came pretty close.
I struggle with how to respond to people who project their own feelings onto me. Projection has been something people around me have struggled with all my life. Because of who I am and how I grew up, I just see things differently. For me, weddings are mostly for families. Many young girls have their father, or other family member walk them down the aisle. They have their first dance with a parent. They spend a lot of the wedding worried about how a family might embarrass them by getting drunk or dancing with friends. They probably get a sizable donation to the costs related to the wedding because those same parents have also been dreaming of this day for years. I don't have any of that because I don't have any family in the traditional sense. I have my sisters, my nephew and my aunt. All of them will be with me when I do get married; at the Manhattan courthouse. The way I have always dreamed of.
If I never had a reception, I wouldn't regret it. I am having one because my fiance and I decided we wanted to and at this point, I am excited about the party. We're paying for the entire thing on our own so we had to be very mindful of who we invited. Truth is, I could skip out on all of it and be happy to know that I'm still going to be his Mrs.
I hate when people say, "You're going to regret it if you don't do anything!" First of all, no I won't. Second of all, your projection is exhausting. Seriously, I never ask for people's opinions on my life but they are constantly inserting themselves.
It's so interesting (also read annoying), that I have to spend my life explaining to people why I don't currently celebrate Mother's Day, Father's Day, Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc.
I really do wish people would be more mindful about what comes out of their mouth.
I wish people stopped projecting.
I am excited about my courthouse 'wedding'.
I am also excited about the non traditional reception that will follow the next day.
I'm so happy I found someone who is as non-traditional as I am so we can be have our non-traditional celebration together.
Monday, February 4, 2019
The Death of the Silent Scorpion: The Serial Dater
I need to write this post. She's been dead and gone for almost 4 years now but first, I need to write about something else. That's coming up next.
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Someone stole $989
Last Friday, I woke up and logged into my checking account and was surprised by what I saw. I struggled to remember if I had forgotten that a large bill was going to clear that day or if my eyes were deceiving me. My checking account was almost $1000 short and I had no idea why. I clicked on my account and realized a check for $989 had been cleared.
WHO THE FCK IS KIMBERLY E. WELCH?!!!
I gathered my composure and called my bank almost in tears.
I was the victim of check fraud.
Bastards.
More than anything, I was annoyed with the hassle of having to call my bank first thing in the morning. For having to close my checking account immediately. For the entire ordeal making me late to work.
On my way to the office I found my thoughts changing to concern for Kimberly E. Welch. Maybe she needed to feed her starving kids. Maybe rent was due and this was her last resort. The check she used was over 10 years old. I remember forgetting them in an old apartment years ago but not having the sense enough to cancel the checks when I realized what had happened. Kimberly E. Welch must have held on to those checks until she had no other options.
By lunch time I was in tears...again. This checking account had sentimental value for me. It was the account I opened to deposit the inheritance my mother left me after she passed. I had had it for almost 16 years at the point and just like that I had to close it. Seeing the reminder from my bank that it was going to be wiped clean and permanently removed from my online account hits me hard every I login to my online account.
Even after all of that, I'm still not mad. Sad yes but mad no. I had enough money in my checking account to survive the weekend. My bank deposited the money back into my account Monday. I have enough money to not need that $989 at that moment so it really was just money. Money I knew I'd get right back.
I applaud myself for not wishing ill on Kimberly E. Welch. I recognize that the SS from 5 years ago would have been LIVID. She would have spent countless moments wasting her breath on what had happened. She would not have been able to move on from this encounter for days. She wouldn't have been able to let the anger go so quickly. But, this SS wishes Kimberly E. Welch well and hopes she does not 'Choke on a bone' paid for with my money. Nope.
I hope she enjoys a great medium steak; $989 dollars worth.
WHO THE FCK IS KIMBERLY E. WELCH?!!!
I gathered my composure and called my bank almost in tears.
I was the victim of check fraud.
Bastards.
More than anything, I was annoyed with the hassle of having to call my bank first thing in the morning. For having to close my checking account immediately. For the entire ordeal making me late to work.
On my way to the office I found my thoughts changing to concern for Kimberly E. Welch. Maybe she needed to feed her starving kids. Maybe rent was due and this was her last resort. The check she used was over 10 years old. I remember forgetting them in an old apartment years ago but not having the sense enough to cancel the checks when I realized what had happened. Kimberly E. Welch must have held on to those checks until she had no other options.
By lunch time I was in tears...again. This checking account had sentimental value for me. It was the account I opened to deposit the inheritance my mother left me after she passed. I had had it for almost 16 years at the point and just like that I had to close it. Seeing the reminder from my bank that it was going to be wiped clean and permanently removed from my online account hits me hard every I login to my online account.
Even after all of that, I'm still not mad. Sad yes but mad no. I had enough money in my checking account to survive the weekend. My bank deposited the money back into my account Monday. I have enough money to not need that $989 at that moment so it really was just money. Money I knew I'd get right back.
I applaud myself for not wishing ill on Kimberly E. Welch. I recognize that the SS from 5 years ago would have been LIVID. She would have spent countless moments wasting her breath on what had happened. She would not have been able to move on from this encounter for days. She wouldn't have been able to let the anger go so quickly. But, this SS wishes Kimberly E. Welch well and hopes she does not 'Choke on a bone' paid for with my money. Nope.
I hope she enjoys a great medium steak; $989 dollars worth.
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
None of this will make any sense
Father's Day has come and gone and this motherfucker has decided now is the time to call my cellphone. I buried my father 20 years ago. Til this day he's alive and breathing. I know this because I decided to look up this information myself. Yup, he's still kickin.
Over the past several months, he decided he wanted to speak with me. He called my work phone. I unknowingly answered. Asshole! I felt disgusted when I heard his voice and hung up. I've gotten to a point where I tried to forget he existed and moved on. Now he's gotten ahold of my cellphone. That's fine. I have an answer for that. Block! Go away sir. Please pretend that you have no female offspring, the same way I have pretended I have no father for 20 years. TWENTY YEARS. GO THE FUCK AWAY!!!
I remember several years ago I was dating a nice young gentleman, and he decided it was in his power and right, to tell me how to deal with this man. Little did he know, that played a large part in why we stopped speaking. The gaul of someone who has no dog in the fight, thinking they have the right to tell me how to react. I remember how I felt in that moment.
I didn't feel supported.
I felt judged.
I was so damn annoyed.
Fast forward to the response from my man, my partner in everything when I told him I don't fuck with this man. I didn't give him any details. All I said was, "fuck him!" His response: "FUCK HIM!" YESSSS!!!! Clearly that's my forever boo.
As I said, none of this will make any sense...to you. But when I sober up, I'll look over to my partner, and give him the biggest hug and kiss because he makes me feel so supported. So loved. So understood. So free
To the asshole who donated his sperm, FUCK YOU! STOP CALLING! It's never ever going to happen.
To the man that makes me feel live unapologetically, I love the shit out of you.
This doesn't make any sense.
Over the past several months, he decided he wanted to speak with me. He called my work phone. I unknowingly answered. Asshole! I felt disgusted when I heard his voice and hung up. I've gotten to a point where I tried to forget he existed and moved on. Now he's gotten ahold of my cellphone. That's fine. I have an answer for that. Block! Go away sir. Please pretend that you have no female offspring, the same way I have pretended I have no father for 20 years. TWENTY YEARS. GO THE FUCK AWAY!!!
I remember several years ago I was dating a nice young gentleman, and he decided it was in his power and right, to tell me how to deal with this man. Little did he know, that played a large part in why we stopped speaking. The gaul of someone who has no dog in the fight, thinking they have the right to tell me how to react. I remember how I felt in that moment.
I didn't feel supported.
I felt judged.
I was so damn annoyed.
Fast forward to the response from my man, my partner in everything when I told him I don't fuck with this man. I didn't give him any details. All I said was, "fuck him!" His response: "FUCK HIM!" YESSSS!!!! Clearly that's my forever boo.
As I said, none of this will make any sense...to you. But when I sober up, I'll look over to my partner, and give him the biggest hug and kiss because he makes me feel so supported. So loved. So understood. So free
To the asshole who donated his sperm, FUCK YOU! STOP CALLING! It's never ever going to happen.
To the man that makes me feel live unapologetically, I love the shit out of you.
This doesn't make any sense.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Currently Reading: Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes
A couple weeks ago I needed a book for my 20+ flight to Thailand. I quickly spotted a familiar name in the airport bookstore and was excited to support #blackgirlmagic. (I was almost deterred by handsome ass Trevor Noah on the cover of his book but that price-tag, no ma'am. Not on that day)
Living my happy life with one rule.
I'm almost at the end of 'Year of Yes' and I felt compelled to share one of the many gems that fill it's pages. Not only for me but anyone who can find solace in her words:
We all spend our lives trying to follow the same path, live by the same rules.
I think we believe that happiness lies in following the same list of rules.
In being more like everyone else.
That? Is wrong.
There is no list of rules.
There is one rule.
The rule is: there are no rules.
Happiness comes from living as you need to, as you want to. As your inner voice tells you to. Happiness comes from being who you actually are instead of who you think you are supposed to be.
Living my happy life with one rule.
Sunday, December 4, 2016
I don't like Christmas yet
I want to. Everyone else does. But this time of year is the hardest time for me. It's weird, I'm fine on my mothers' birthday in September. Honestly I sometimes forget her birthday even though it's tattooed on my rib cage. A couple days after Thanksgiving however I remember Her voice, the call, the terror, the anger, and confusion.
Poinsettias, bright lights, joyous friends and families begin to engulf my usually quiet life. I do my best to fall in line. I've even made my apartment a muted winter wonderland. But I am not as joyous as I may seem and feel like I have to be. I could have used the word 'passing' instead of 'death' huh. But it's too pretty of a word to describe how I'm currently feeling. I'm ready for the month to be over. Over the past year I've become a lot more honest and open with my feelings. The good and the bad. On one hand, its wonderful for some of my relationships and has brought me closer to some people in my life. On the other hand I've always suppressed and continue to suppress a lot of feelings I have about what happened in 2002. I've worked through some with a therapist but I coined the mantra, time does NOT heal all wounds.
Today I was having a wonderful time hanging out with friends watching football. My fantasy team was pulling ahead in this weeks match up. My tummy was full of cookies and good baked ziti. A little time passed after my friends' fiancé put on Christmas music and it happened. Tears and tears and tears. After some probing, my friends found out I needed them to turn the Christmas music off. While I want to continue to have the opportunity to participate in the holiday and hang out with friends, I've never gotten over the last Christmas with my mother. She had a stroke at work 3 days prior. The doctor told us that she would recover so I was selfishly annoyed that I had to go to the hospital on Christmas Day instead of eating a home cooked meal. What a selfish brat I was. Little did I know what would happen just two days later.
I truly hope that one day I can feel joy when this time of year comes around. I know I'll have to for my future kids (who will know that EYE paid for all those wonderful gifts, not some fictional white man).
But for now, I still don't like Christmas yet.
Monday, December 14, 2015
I Did Get the Job: A Lesson in Patience
Earlier this year, I kicked myself for not applying to this position. I then went on to apply to several other positions at NYU and wasn't truly sure about how I would fit the culture of the office. Could I do the job? Hell yeah. Would I fit in? Ummmm....
When the Associate Director position opened up in my College, I applied right away and then told no one. I knew I would fit the culture, because I've worked here for the past two years. My normal routine was to tell CT, my little sister and my two best friends about my journey to a road that seemed to always end with no job offer. This time I decided to keep most of the journey to myself. That was until I couldn't hold it any longer. I talk to CT every night and tell him everything going on in my life, so there was no way I could or wanted to hide it from him. I interviewed and discussed my fears of rejection. I obsessed over every detail of the process. He listened and continued being the supportive partner I've come to love. After my interviews were over and I had a good feeling I would get the offer, I began sharing with my friends about the opportunity.
After several weeks, the offer finally came late Wednesday afternoon. I was filled with elation that I in fact got the offer and the salary requested. I was both surprised and disappointed. I didn't have to negotiate because they readily approved my salary request as fair compensation for the new role. I had all of my bullet points ready. I deserve this salary because x, y, z AND a, b, c. My college has known to be a little tight with the purse, but not for me. Not this time. So accepting the offer was a no brainer.
I've spent the last few days doing my current role, training my replacement and actually doing my job. Needless to say, at times I'm a bit overwhelmed. Luckily, I'm too organized and busy to be stressed about any of it. I've been inundated with supportive emails from my colleagues and faculty members who I will be working closely with in my new role as Associate Director. This post is me taking a second to reflect. I graduated just 2 years ago and became an Assistant Director. Just two short years later, I am an Associate.
The email below I just received from a faculty member drove my excitement and gratefulness to another level. It really made me take a second and say, yes this is a great promotional opportunity with a lot of responsibility, but I can do this:
"On one hand, I am sad you are leaving your current position. I think you are such a fabulous role model during our recruitment open houses. If I were visiting NYU as a potential applicant, I would want to sign up on the spot because I would want to grow up to be like you.
However, I am so happy because you will do a wonderful job as Associate Director, and you are joining our little encove . We have a wonderful group."
OK my me time is up, back to my 3 jobs I go.
Update: A student I assisted also emailed me:
"Congratulations on your promotion. You might not remember the impact you had on my transitioning from high school to college but I am so thankful that you were there to help me last year with all of my many questions and help me transition my credits. May GOD bless you in all that you do, and may you receive many more promotions. Thank you for everything. "
When the Associate Director position opened up in my College, I applied right away and then told no one. I knew I would fit the culture, because I've worked here for the past two years. My normal routine was to tell CT, my little sister and my two best friends about my journey to a road that seemed to always end with no job offer. This time I decided to keep most of the journey to myself. That was until I couldn't hold it any longer. I talk to CT every night and tell him everything going on in my life, so there was no way I could or wanted to hide it from him. I interviewed and discussed my fears of rejection. I obsessed over every detail of the process. He listened and continued being the supportive partner I've come to love. After my interviews were over and I had a good feeling I would get the offer, I began sharing with my friends about the opportunity.
After several weeks, the offer finally came late Wednesday afternoon. I was filled with elation that I in fact got the offer and the salary requested. I was both surprised and disappointed. I didn't have to negotiate because they readily approved my salary request as fair compensation for the new role. I had all of my bullet points ready. I deserve this salary because x, y, z AND a, b, c. My college has known to be a little tight with the purse, but not for me. Not this time. So accepting the offer was a no brainer.
I've spent the last few days doing my current role, training my replacement and actually doing my job. Needless to say, at times I'm a bit overwhelmed. Luckily, I'm too organized and busy to be stressed about any of it. I've been inundated with supportive emails from my colleagues and faculty members who I will be working closely with in my new role as Associate Director. This post is me taking a second to reflect. I graduated just 2 years ago and became an Assistant Director. Just two short years later, I am an Associate.
The email below I just received from a faculty member drove my excitement and gratefulness to another level. It really made me take a second and say, yes this is a great promotional opportunity with a lot of responsibility, but I can do this:
"On one hand, I am sad you are leaving your current position. I think you are such a fabulous role model during our recruitment open houses. If I were visiting NYU as a potential applicant, I would want to sign up on the spot because I would want to grow up to be like you.
However, I am so happy because you will do a wonderful job as Associate Director, and you are joining our little encove . We have a wonderful group."
OK my me time is up, back to my 3 jobs I go.
Update: A student I assisted also emailed me:
"Congratulations on your promotion. You might not remember the impact you had on my transitioning from high school to college but I am so thankful that you were there to help me last year with all of my many questions and help me transition my credits. May GOD bless you in all that you do, and may you receive many more promotions. Thank you for everything. "
Friday, November 6, 2015
31: A Handful of Aha Moments!
It's very fitting that my 300th post would have a very different tone than the other 299 posts of the past. Silent Scorpion, the Serial Dater, has died. Finally, right?! Parts of her will always be with me but I'm venturing into a new chapter and I love it because I love and fully trust my partner. He's not everything I thought I wanted and everything I didn't know I needed. Like seriously though, he has a beard. He has a full, thick, and soft beard. I use to HATE beards. Daddy issues.
Since we entered each other's lives I've been met with continuous aha moments.
Aha it can be so simple!
Aha he can get you!
Aha he can love all of those things you don't even like about yourself!
Aha! Aha! Aha!
Over the past several months, I've been very slow to open up with acquaintances/friends (via social media) about him but very quick to share with those closest to me. I shout his name whenever I can and find comfort in knowing that he is as much committed to me as I to him. This was confirmed after my recent trip to his home country of the Bahamas this past weekend. (Of course he's from an island, refer to this post) What a way to bring in my birthday! I got to be with the man I love, as well as with the family he loves and holds near and dear. When we met and he told me no woman had ever met them, I must say I was relieved. Families had always scared me but with him, I found myself wanting to meet them, to see him through their eyes.
When I convey the story of how I ended up at a lunch table with his mother, two sisters, brother and two best friends without him, I fail to mention I could have easily avoided it all. When I was booking my ticket to Nassau, there were two options. Option 1, I could fly into Nassau and then catch a second flight 30 minutes later to Exuma. Option 2, I could fly into Nassau and leave a 5 hour window for what I thought would be awkward meet and greets. I chose the latter.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also nervous to be meeting all of them without him holding my hand, but I was just too excited that a man I had let into my heart, was letting down all preconceived notions of what family interactions might look like and fully allowing me into his. Although there were some awkward moments, as can be expected for such a meeting, the lunch was filled with laughter and sarcasm; my two most favorite things!
During both the car ride from and back to the airport, both of his best friends shared their excitement in meeting me. Really? Me?! Chile. This black girl surely blushed. They confirmed to me what I already knew and for that I am grateful. Even though his words carry so much value, hearing them repeat to me all the things he's already told me was still pleasing to my ears. It was funny to hear them share he feels like since the moment we met, I "got" him. I use the exact same phrasing when describing our initial meeting. Well the second initial one, the first one doesn't count in my eyes since I was busy being my overly friendly (read: disinterested and standoffish) self.
It was refreshing to see a different side of him when we were with the rest of his family on his island. I didn't need to hold his hand as I chatted with his grandmother, but it was nice to be able to look over at him if I needed to. By the end of our trip, I was hanging out with grandma, one on one. Which reminds me, I need to send her my (read: Google's) Bourbon Pecan Pie recipe. The pie I made was a hit with grandma. A cute girl, who can cook?!! She told me to make sure I come back soon. I see you plotting grandma. I promise I'll be back soon!
He whisked me back to Nassau for the remainder of my trip. And by whisked I mean, we almost missed our flight because he is truly a man of the island and time is not of the essence. I promise I'm working on my patience, ya'll. I think I handled our delayed journey to the airport pretty well, but for him I will do better.
Since we entered each other's lives I've been met with continuous aha moments.
Aha it can be so simple!
Aha he can get you!
Aha he can love all of those things you don't even like about yourself!
Aha! Aha! Aha!
Over the past several months, I've been very slow to open up with acquaintances/friends (via social media) about him but very quick to share with those closest to me. I shout his name whenever I can and find comfort in knowing that he is as much committed to me as I to him. This was confirmed after my recent trip to his home country of the Bahamas this past weekend. (Of course he's from an island, refer to this post) What a way to bring in my birthday! I got to be with the man I love, as well as with the family he loves and holds near and dear. When we met and he told me no woman had ever met them, I must say I was relieved. Families had always scared me but with him, I found myself wanting to meet them, to see him through their eyes.
When I convey the story of how I ended up at a lunch table with his mother, two sisters, brother and two best friends without him, I fail to mention I could have easily avoided it all. When I was booking my ticket to Nassau, there were two options. Option 1, I could fly into Nassau and then catch a second flight 30 minutes later to Exuma. Option 2, I could fly into Nassau and leave a 5 hour window for what I thought would be awkward meet and greets. I chose the latter.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also nervous to be meeting all of them without him holding my hand, but I was just too excited that a man I had let into my heart, was letting down all preconceived notions of what family interactions might look like and fully allowing me into his. Although there were some awkward moments, as can be expected for such a meeting, the lunch was filled with laughter and sarcasm; my two most favorite things!
During both the car ride from and back to the airport, both of his best friends shared their excitement in meeting me. Really? Me?! Chile. This black girl surely blushed. They confirmed to me what I already knew and for that I am grateful. Even though his words carry so much value, hearing them repeat to me all the things he's already told me was still pleasing to my ears. It was funny to hear them share he feels like since the moment we met, I "got" him. I use the exact same phrasing when describing our initial meeting. Well the second initial one, the first one doesn't count in my eyes since I was busy being my overly friendly (read: disinterested and standoffish) self.
It was refreshing to see a different side of him when we were with the rest of his family on his island. I didn't need to hold his hand as I chatted with his grandmother, but it was nice to be able to look over at him if I needed to. By the end of our trip, I was hanging out with grandma, one on one. Which reminds me, I need to send her my (read: Google's) Bourbon Pecan Pie recipe. The pie I made was a hit with grandma. A cute girl, who can cook?!! She told me to make sure I come back soon. I see you plotting grandma. I promise I'll be back soon!
He whisked me back to Nassau for the remainder of my trip. And by whisked I mean, we almost missed our flight because he is truly a man of the island and time is not of the essence. I promise I'm working on my patience, ya'll. I think I handled our delayed journey to the airport pretty well, but for him I will do better.
Between the water front breakfast, massages, homemade conch salad and pumpkin duff a la his little brother (he heard it was my fav and made it for me), bottle of wine from pop (I get to call his father that now; although I haven't told him yet), drinks on the beach, a gift that screams SILENT! (like seriously he remembered a conversation we had 2 months earlier) and a dinner just the two of us, my 31st birthday was one big AHA moment.
AHA you deserve every bit of this!*
*just go back and read the 299 posts before this if you don't believe me.
AHA you deserve every bit of this!*
*just go back and read the 299 posts before this if you don't believe me.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Natural High
I wish I could take this feeling I've had for the past couple of months and bottle it up. The feeling of love, support and encouragement. It is such a euphoric feeling to be surrounded by light and laughter all the time.
I'm holding on as tight as humanly possible with both hands. This feeling is better than any feeling the best depressant or stimulant money can provide.
I'm not normally a woman of few words but I hesitate to go any further. So I'll stop right here.
I'll just ride the natural high I'm on for as long as God see's fit.
I'm holding on as tight as humanly possible with both hands. This feeling is better than any feeling the best depressant or stimulant money can provide.
I'm not normally a woman of few words but I hesitate to go any further. So I'll stop right here.
I'll just ride the natural high I'm on for as long as God see's fit.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Flash Back Friday: Dear Mr. No Chemistry
Dear Mr. No Chemistry
MARCH 4, 2010
I received a comment on my Facebook status after I expressed grief over the tragic passing of my coworker from a guy I dated briefly. We had gone on a few dates but we both realized we had no chemistry and stopped pursuing each other. In my Facebook status, I also mentioned that we shouldn’t take life for granted and should tell our loved ones how we feel more often.
Sorry to hear about your co-worker. Life is real short. Since we are being vulnerable…I’ve always wanted to tell you I like the Lakers (something we constantly jokingly argued about. He was a vocal Lakers Hater) and our time at [restaurant] was pretty fun. Hope you are ok.With respect,Mr. No Chemistry
He also followed up with a personal message in my inbox. The Facebook status comment was heart warming enough but the fact that he put time and effort to send a private message immediately following truly made me feel cared for. He knew that the comment about the Lakers would make me laugh at a time when I didn’t feel like smiling.
Here’s my open letter to him:
Dear Mr. No Chemistry,
When I met you I thought our meeting had the potential to grow into wonderful relationship. Soon after our initial conversation, I could tell you were a man of God, and a true gentleman with a kind heart, and had the potential to become above all else, a real friend. You had a smile that wouldn’t quit and the ability to keep me laughing even when I had no desire. Only problem was we had no chemistry. We went on 3 dates and eventually parted ways amicably. Two days quickly turned into 2 weeks before I realized I hadn’t heard from you.
Even though things didn’t work out between us, you have restored my faith in men. I know there is a man or several out there for me, who will be all the things he is supposed to be. I’m opening my heart to the possibility of meeting him one day.
I wish you well in your future endeavors and I hope that you find what you are looking for. It didn’t work between us but I know you’re going to make some other woman very happy. I feel truly blessed to call a man like you my friend.
Peace,
Silent
Thursday, June 25, 2015
The Thing About Dividing Blacks Based on Skin Color
I recently got into a heated debate with a colleague who is heading diversity recruitment efforts at my Alma mater. We were talking about what he found out after joining a higher education social work consortium. He was enjoying getting to know the network but felt like he needed to do more research on his own so that he could really understand what other schools were doing to diversify their schools. To him, the results were shocking. For me, well I went to 2 PWI's and have worked at the same one for the past few years. It wasn't all that shocking when he told me several highly ranked universities and colleges' websites did not include any persons of color. His exact words were, "they could at least fake like they cared by having just one person of color on the screen." I agreed, I know the statistics, most schools do not care about diversity. For a short while, admissions decisions could legally be based on race. Schools had quotas mandating at least 15% of the admitted class be persons of color. These laws have all but since ended. However, nearly one-third of public and private colleges claim to still consider race in their admission. I work for an institution that touts their diverse numbers in every publication humanly possible so yes for some being diverse is an aim, for others not so much.
My friend then went on to discuss more websites he had browsed and described a prestigious university who did in fact have a person of color on their homepage. Immediately my not-that dark skin male friend then pointed out that it wasn't enough to have a light skin student on their homepage. He argued that they could have at least selected a dark skin student, if they were going to choose one.Wait, what? You just said no school had a person of color. Now you've found one and they aren't black enough?!
My friend then went on to discuss more websites he had browsed and described a prestigious university who did in fact have a person of color on their homepage. Immediately my not-that dark skin male friend then pointed out that it wasn't enough to have a light skin student on their homepage. He argued that they could have at least selected a dark skin student, if they were going to choose one.Wait, what? You just said no school had a person of color. Now you've found one and they aren't black enough?!
I agreed that their fair skin could have been the reason, but countered that their could have been more at play. For one, we do not know how students were selected for the photo shoot or how the "candid" shots of students were taken. He insisted they selected this person "who barely looks black" because they were fair skin.
Had this been 4 years ago I probably would not have engaged him in any deep conversation and just agreed with his argument. Because during that time, I was simple minded too. "But of course they chose a racially ambiguous with fair skin to be the face of their diversity," I would have exclaimed. "I'm not even surprised," would have immediately followed. He spent the better half of an hour trying to get me to see his point of view. I told him the reasons I did not agree with his focus on the skin tone of the one person instead of the number of persons of color shown. He continued to argue that they ("white people") had chosen this fair skin black person because they racially ambiguous looking. After another exchange of us just not being on the same page, I politely told him we could agree to disagree. Later on in the day at almost 5pm, he asked me if I had changed my mind based on his argument. Since this entire exchange happened over Gchat, I had just gotten busy at work working and left the conversation alone. I ended up logging off for the day before I got his follow up message. When the clock strikes 5, I am usually halfway out the door and the day was no different.
When I was on my way home I reflected about the reasons why the color of the persons skin wasn't my main focal point. Why wasn't I too enraged that a light skin person being the representative for all black people. Normally I would have just gone along, being that I am a dark skin black woman myself. However, things my thoughts about skin tone have changed over the last four years, for good reason. I now have a almost 4 year old nephew who is as fair as they come. He takes after his father who is half white and Belizean, and who's skin makes can't go without sun block in the sunniest of days. This very fair skin tone has been passed on to my adorable nephew. I remember a few years ago when it dawned on me that my love might not so easily be seen as just black. His mother is black, her sister is black. We're all black, why would anyone question his level of blackness. Are there levels to his blackness? Recognizing that he is an individual, I do not automatically assume he will want to share our identity. His father didn't readily, so I don't assume he will either. I want him to embrace being a black man and I'll support and instill those values in him. I'll be damned if anyone questions his black identity because of the fairness of his skin.
My thoughts are no longer so narrow minded to assume that blackness is simply defined by the intensity of melanin. My beautiful mixed race nephew has opened my mind in ways he can't even fathom. I can only ascertain from his few years on Earth that my views will continue to transform as we both grow older and wiser. To my colleagues dismay, I did not concede my argument after he followed up the next day. Much to his chagrin I stood by my belief that separating a race of people by skin tone was just a decisive measure. We all know where it came from, so I wasn't going to participate in that kind of conversation in 2015. We're all a little mixed up anyway. Why does it matter so much that they chose a light skin person? Especially when other schools do not even have just one.
It's more important that they only had one person of color on the website, not that the one person was a fair skin but obviously (to him) black person.
Is diversity important? Hell yeah. My career in admission is focused on being an advocate for diversity. Is the type of skin tone diversity as important, absolutely not. Could the fair skin of the black person be the reason they were selected to be on the page, absolutely. Let's not divide ourselves based on the darkness of our skin, black people. All my black is beautiful.
Had this been 4 years ago I probably would not have engaged him in any deep conversation and just agreed with his argument. Because during that time, I was simple minded too. "But of course they chose a racially ambiguous with fair skin to be the face of their diversity," I would have exclaimed. "I'm not even surprised," would have immediately followed. He spent the better half of an hour trying to get me to see his point of view. I told him the reasons I did not agree with his focus on the skin tone of the one person instead of the number of persons of color shown. He continued to argue that they ("white people") had chosen this fair skin black person because they racially ambiguous looking. After another exchange of us just not being on the same page, I politely told him we could agree to disagree. Later on in the day at almost 5pm, he asked me if I had changed my mind based on his argument. Since this entire exchange happened over Gchat, I had just gotten busy at work working and left the conversation alone. I ended up logging off for the day before I got his follow up message. When the clock strikes 5, I am usually halfway out the door and the day was no different.
When I was on my way home I reflected about the reasons why the color of the persons skin wasn't my main focal point. Why wasn't I too enraged that a light skin person being the representative for all black people. Normally I would have just gone along, being that I am a dark skin black woman myself. However, things my thoughts about skin tone have changed over the last four years, for good reason. I now have a almost 4 year old nephew who is as fair as they come. He takes after his father who is half white and Belizean, and who's skin makes can't go without sun block in the sunniest of days. This very fair skin tone has been passed on to my adorable nephew. I remember a few years ago when it dawned on me that my love might not so easily be seen as just black. His mother is black, her sister is black. We're all black, why would anyone question his level of blackness. Are there levels to his blackness? Recognizing that he is an individual, I do not automatically assume he will want to share our identity. His father didn't readily, so I don't assume he will either. I want him to embrace being a black man and I'll support and instill those values in him. I'll be damned if anyone questions his black identity because of the fairness of his skin.
My thoughts are no longer so narrow minded to assume that blackness is simply defined by the intensity of melanin. My beautiful mixed race nephew has opened my mind in ways he can't even fathom. I can only ascertain from his few years on Earth that my views will continue to transform as we both grow older and wiser. To my colleagues dismay, I did not concede my argument after he followed up the next day. Much to his chagrin I stood by my belief that separating a race of people by skin tone was just a decisive measure. We all know where it came from, so I wasn't going to participate in that kind of conversation in 2015. We're all a little mixed up anyway. Why does it matter so much that they chose a light skin person? Especially when other schools do not even have just one.
It's more important that they only had one person of color on the website, not that the one person was a fair skin but obviously (to him) black person.
Is diversity important? Hell yeah. My career in admission is focused on being an advocate for diversity. Is the type of skin tone diversity as important, absolutely not. Could the fair skin of the black person be the reason they were selected to be on the page, absolutely. Let's not divide ourselves based on the darkness of our skin, black people. All my black is beautiful.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Blog About It
I want to take this moment to encourage everyone to start a blog. To release those feelings in the most artistic way possible. The use of words to create imagery and tell a story is not my best skill but has become something I have loved doing for the past 7 years. SEVEN YEARS! Today I've spent some time reading some of my old posts and I must say my interest in writing long, detailed posts have surely dwindled. I no longer detail every suitor, every argument, every little or big situation or occurrence but one thing has remained constant. My blog is my voice and it is something I enjoy going back to read after a significant amount of time has passed.
But back to my original point, ah yes, you should blog. By you, I mean YOU! No you don't have to open your blog to the public like me in a not so anonymous forum. The majority of the people who read my blog know me very well. Hey ya'll! Sometimes I'm quite aware of this fact and it changes my tone a bit. Other times I get encouragement from people who read a post I think no one has seen and I'm satisfied my voice has met someone's ears.
So yea, blogging. I like it. And yes, this blog post is about blogging.
I'm clearly distracting myself from something else...
But back to my original point, ah yes, you should blog. By you, I mean YOU! No you don't have to open your blog to the public like me in a not so anonymous forum. The majority of the people who read my blog know me very well. Hey ya'll! Sometimes I'm quite aware of this fact and it changes my tone a bit. Other times I get encouragement from people who read a post I think no one has seen and I'm satisfied my voice has met someone's ears.
So yea, blogging. I like it. And yes, this blog post is about blogging.
I'm clearly distracting myself from something else...
Monday, June 22, 2015
I'm Working On It...Seriously
When I say I am working on me, I truly mean I am paying someone to sit with me for an hour every other week to work on me. Yes, I'm seeing a therapist.
The short version is therapy is just that, therapeutic. It's a treatment for issues I've been dealing with all my life. The longer version is as follows.
Therapy can help:
My therapist has her work cut out for her and she has set up a plan for me to do so constructively. So far she has validated certain feelings and thoughts that I may have normally misinterpreted or brushed to the side. My opinions are important and it's okay that my values are different than others. There are also moments where she just lets me know I need to man up and speak up. My words not hers.
As blunt as I am, I tend to sometimes be passive and then therefore indifferent to things and situations that should be immediately addressed. In the end I bear all of the weight and resentment which affects my overall mood. Although its only been a couple of months, some friends have already noticed a difference in my overall demeanor.
I'd have to say this includes complete strangers because I feel like my energy is pulling people my way. And I'm not speaking simply romantically, but in general I'm feeling a closeness with people I've known for years that I never felt before. I have a long way to go in this process but I'm optimistic and excited about this journey. I will surely blog about it more because there's so much stigma behind it when there shouldn't be. It feels great to be open and honest with someone and have no fear of judgement.
So when I say I'm working on it, know that I'm serious. With the help of an outside party, I am digging deep, talking, thinking and getting to the core of my values and a better sense of myself. The conversations are not always easy but I know it's worth it. I'm worth it. I'm working on it.
The short version is therapy is just that, therapeutic. It's a treatment for issues I've been dealing with all my life. The longer version is as follows.
Therapy can help:
- feel stronger in the face of challenges
- change behaviors that hold you back
- look at ways of thinking that affect how you feel
- heal pains from the past
- build relationship skills
- figure out your goals
- strengthen your self-confidence
- cope with symptoms
- handle strong emotions like fear, grief or anger
- enhance your problem solving skills
My therapist has her work cut out for her and she has set up a plan for me to do so constructively. So far she has validated certain feelings and thoughts that I may have normally misinterpreted or brushed to the side. My opinions are important and it's okay that my values are different than others. There are also moments where she just lets me know I need to man up and speak up. My words not hers.
As blunt as I am, I tend to sometimes be passive and then therefore indifferent to things and situations that should be immediately addressed. In the end I bear all of the weight and resentment which affects my overall mood. Although its only been a couple of months, some friends have already noticed a difference in my overall demeanor.
I'd have to say this includes complete strangers because I feel like my energy is pulling people my way. And I'm not speaking simply romantically, but in general I'm feeling a closeness with people I've known for years that I never felt before. I have a long way to go in this process but I'm optimistic and excited about this journey. I will surely blog about it more because there's so much stigma behind it when there shouldn't be. It feels great to be open and honest with someone and have no fear of judgement.
So when I say I'm working on it, know that I'm serious. With the help of an outside party, I am digging deep, talking, thinking and getting to the core of my values and a better sense of myself. The conversations are not always easy but I know it's worth it. I'm worth it. I'm working on it.
Monday, June 8, 2015
But What If You Fly?
"What if I fail? Oh darling, but what if you fly? -- Erin Henson
I didn't think anything when he asked me to go away with him.
I didn't think anything when he brought me a gift.
I didn't think anything when he introduced me to his friends.
Truth is, I don't trust my own feelings.
I don't trust my own emotions.
They haven't pushed me in the right direction in the past so I quiet them.
I've pushed them so far into the dark, I don't know when they should be in the light.
I separate actions from words.
Actions do mean something, when I let them.
But until words precede or follow actions, then they are just that.
Nothing tops hearing I like/love you.
Nothing tops hearing I want to be with you.
Actions are nice and I enjoy them.
But until words precede or follow actions, then they are just that.
So now I've found myself at a bit crossroad. Some very faint feelings have emerged for a man who's company I enjoy. I could say something and get rejected. I could say something and the feelings could be mutual. Or I could say nothing and walk away. At this point, I'm not that deep in. It's not that deep. Besides, he's not my type, anyway. And he's said nothing to show me he expects more than what's currently being presented. Plus, I am not sure he's worth the discussion.
You can probably tell by now which way I'm leaning. Much to the chagrin of my friends, I will likely remove myself from this situation.
Why?
Because, what if I fly?
I didn't think anything when he asked me to go away with him.
I didn't think anything when he brought me a gift.
I didn't think anything when he introduced me to his friends.
Truth is, I don't trust my own feelings.
I don't trust my own emotions.
They haven't pushed me in the right direction in the past so I quiet them.
I've pushed them so far into the dark, I don't know when they should be in the light.
I separate actions from words.
Actions do mean something, when I let them.
But until words precede or follow actions, then they are just that.
Nothing tops hearing I like/love you.
Nothing tops hearing I want to be with you.
Actions are nice and I enjoy them.
But until words precede or follow actions, then they are just that.
So now I've found myself at a bit crossroad. Some very faint feelings have emerged for a man who's company I enjoy. I could say something and get rejected. I could say something and the feelings could be mutual. Or I could say nothing and walk away. At this point, I'm not that deep in. It's not that deep. Besides, he's not my type, anyway. And he's said nothing to show me he expects more than what's currently being presented. Plus, I am not sure he's worth the discussion.
You can probably tell by now which way I'm leaning. Much to the chagrin of my friends, I will likely remove myself from this situation.
Why?
Because, what if I fly?
Dear America
As I sit in my quaint office and watch footage from the McKinney, Texas pool party, I am disgusted but not shocked. It's not fair that I am not shocked that a grown male police officer pulled a gun on unarmed black teenagers. It's not fair that I am not shocked the police officer brutally threw a young, defenseless female teenager to the ground and straddled her with all his weight. His abuse of power isn't new, camera phones are new. Twitter is new. Youtube is new. Facebook is new. I can see what is going on around the world in the blink of an eye now, but the actions are not new.
I purposely avoided the links the first 24 hours after they became available as I do all too often. I have to mentally and emotionally prepare myself to take in all the bullshit. Even before I click on the hot links I know what is going to happen. Unbeknownst to the party being recorded they will be or are already the victim of unabashedly unnecessary aggressive behavior. At some point, an even more traumatic action will take place and the video will end.
For the past few years, the vicarious traumatization I endure watching these videos remind me of the threat my gorgeous melanin causes even those sworn to protect me. Clearly there were psychological, emotional and physical incompetence's that moved the white police officer to be overly aggressive in a situation that did not call for it.
It's all too much.
America, its way too damn much.
Dear America, fix this shit!
(Go ahead and star this post because it'll become relevant again in a few weeks when the next police brutality video goes viral)
I purposely avoided the links the first 24 hours after they became available as I do all too often. I have to mentally and emotionally prepare myself to take in all the bullshit. Even before I click on the hot links I know what is going to happen. Unbeknownst to the party being recorded they will be or are already the victim of unabashedly unnecessary aggressive behavior. At some point, an even more traumatic action will take place and the video will end.
For the past few years, the vicarious traumatization I endure watching these videos remind me of the threat my gorgeous melanin causes even those sworn to protect me. Clearly there were psychological, emotional and physical incompetence's that moved the white police officer to be overly aggressive in a situation that did not call for it.
It's all too much.
America, its way too damn much.
Dear America, fix this shit!
(Go ahead and star this post because it'll become relevant again in a few weeks when the next police brutality video goes viral)
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
I Didn't Get The Job
I never not got a job I interviewed for. Does that sentence even make grammatical sense? I'm not sure but I think you can certainly get my point. For every position I have ever interviewed for, I was called back for additional interviews and eventually offered a position. This has always been the case. Until, it wasn't.
A couple weeks ago I applied for an Associate Director position. While the move up is a bit premature to some, I'm always up for a professional challenge. I am not yet feeling completely stagnate in my current position but I was intrigued by the posting and decided to apply. I told myself, self (yes, I refer to myself as self) if you get this awesome position, wouldn't that be awesome. My bank account immediately interrupted and said yes ma'am, it surely would.
So I applied.
I was immediately called for an interview.
I interviewed with a panel.
The interview went pretty well. I knew it even though I picked myself apart after.
I was called back the same day for another interview later in the week.
I interviewed with another panel.
The interview was not pleasant..at all. It was the coldest interview I've ever had. I just didn't click with the two old white men I met with. Not because they were old and white but because I just wasn't feeling the energy. I knew as soon as I walked out of the room that I did not in fact get the position. However, I wasn't at all disappointed. While the position itself would have been awesome, I don't think I would have fit in well with the culture of the office. And after quieting my chatty bank account voice in my head, I walked into work. I almost gave my current supervisor a hug when I got to my office. She smiled as soon as I got to the office and welcomed me the same way she always does. A way that normally would make me wish she would take a chill pill. But on that day, it was comforting. Will I keep looking for another promotional opportunity? Absolutely!
But for now, it's okay I didn't get the job.
A couple weeks ago I applied for an Associate Director position. While the move up is a bit premature to some, I'm always up for a professional challenge. I am not yet feeling completely stagnate in my current position but I was intrigued by the posting and decided to apply. I told myself, self (yes, I refer to myself as self) if you get this awesome position, wouldn't that be awesome. My bank account immediately interrupted and said yes ma'am, it surely would.
So I applied.
I was immediately called for an interview.
I interviewed with a panel.
The interview went pretty well. I knew it even though I picked myself apart after.
I was called back the same day for another interview later in the week.
I interviewed with another panel.
The interview was not pleasant..at all. It was the coldest interview I've ever had. I just didn't click with the two old white men I met with. Not because they were old and white but because I just wasn't feeling the energy. I knew as soon as I walked out of the room that I did not in fact get the position. However, I wasn't at all disappointed. While the position itself would have been awesome, I don't think I would have fit in well with the culture of the office. And after quieting my chatty bank account voice in my head, I walked into work. I almost gave my current supervisor a hug when I got to my office. She smiled as soon as I got to the office and welcomed me the same way she always does. A way that normally would make me wish she would take a chill pill. But on that day, it was comforting. Will I keep looking for another promotional opportunity? Absolutely!
But for now, it's okay I didn't get the job.
Friday, April 10, 2015
There's Something About Silent
Because it's Friday and we should all be smiling...here's a second post for the day that's been sitting in my draft box for months. Tomorrow isn't promised, right?
For the past several years I've had this running joke with my close girlfriends; "Black American men don't like me!" When I first began dating at the ripe old age of 17 1/2 years old (I know I was a very very late bloomer), I dated an African American man. Almost four years later when I returned to the dating scene, I was dating all types of men: African American, Spanish (there was one Puerto Rican guy), African,Asian (oh wait that's never happened), white (oh wait that's never happened either). Okay so I've mostly only dated African American and African men. You got me.
The year before I moved to New York. I was talking to one of my girlfriends about someone new I was dating. After telling her his name she responded, "Dang Silent, you never date black American men. They're all African!" I had to stop and think for a second. Out of the last three gentlemen I dated, two were Nigerian and one was African American [with a unique name]. Touche my friend, touche.
Since I moved to NYC 3 years ago, I have seriously dated 3 men. At this point in this blog post you can probably guess their ethnicity. African right? Wrong! Caribbean men have now made their way into the mix and account for 40% of the men who approach me and 33% of the men I've seriously dated. 33% of 3 is 1 for those of you who didn't major in math.
At one point, I started scratching my head to figure out why this was happening to me. Is it because I live in New York City, the "fake" melting pot? I can't really call it a melting pot. That would imply that people of all backgrounds mix and mingle versus populate certain areas the way they do. My girls meet plenty of non-African and non-Caribbean men when we go out here. I on the other hand will meet the one African or Caribbean man in the venue. Whether they come up to me or they come up to me. I don't go up to men in New York (outside of New York, well that's a post for another time), its usually a man who can trace his families roots outside of the US. And as laudable as it is, using a lineage service does not count.
The funniest thing happened the first time I went to Jamaica in 2008. I was with a group of my gorgeous fair hued girl friends. They are a beautiful mix of El Salvadorian, Creole and just not dark like me girls. As soon as the five of us stepped foot on the beach, all of the attention went to me. I for one, was not use to being around them and getting a lot of play. This was at a time in LA, and I assume things haven't changed much, where my darker skin seemed to make me less appealing to some black men. I was once pushed out of the way by a man to get to my fair skin El Salvadorian friend. Asshole. Let's be clear here, I was no ugly duckling. It's not like I was not getting any play. It was just the amount of black men who preferred fair skin was highly noticeable. However, this was not the case in Montego Bay and Negril, Jamaica. In fact, it was the complete opposite. Wherever we went, I always had a suitor or several and I ate it up. Hey, I was on vacation.
This story has repeated itself on every vacation to the Caribbean since. Jamaica pt 2, Dominican Republic and Barbados. Oh Barbados! That's also a blog post for another time. Remember how I mentioned earlier I don't approach men. Well when you just know any man you want to talk to, wants to talk to you, you change your tune. I promise I wasn't purposely picking these places to test my theory either. I didn't actually select any of these places. I was a part of larger trips to the Caribbean 3 times in the past 12 months.
I do think it's time for me to test this theory in the Motherland. Anyone want to plan a trip soon?
For the past several years I've had this running joke with my close girlfriends; "Black American men don't like me!" When I first began dating at the ripe old age of 17 1/2 years old (I know I was a very very late bloomer), I dated an African American man. Almost four years later when I returned to the dating scene, I was dating all types of men: African American, Spanish (there was one Puerto Rican guy), African,
The year before I moved to New York. I was talking to one of my girlfriends about someone new I was dating. After telling her his name she responded, "Dang Silent, you never date black American men. They're all African!" I had to stop and think for a second. Out of the last three gentlemen I dated, two were Nigerian and one was African American [with a unique name]. Touche my friend, touche.
Since I moved to NYC 3 years ago, I have seriously dated 3 men. At this point in this blog post you can probably guess their ethnicity. African right? Wrong! Caribbean men have now made their way into the mix and account for 40% of the men who approach me and 33% of the men I've seriously dated. 33% of 3 is 1 for those of you who didn't major in math.
At one point, I started scratching my head to figure out why this was happening to me. Is it because I live in New York City, the "fake" melting pot? I can't really call it a melting pot. That would imply that people of all backgrounds mix and mingle versus populate certain areas the way they do. My girls meet plenty of non-African and non-Caribbean men when we go out here. I on the other hand will meet the one African or Caribbean man in the venue. Whether they come up to me or they come up to me. I don't go up to men in New York (outside of New York, well that's a post for another time), its usually a man who can trace his families roots outside of the US. And as laudable as it is, using a lineage service does not count.
The funniest thing happened the first time I went to Jamaica in 2008. I was with a group of my gorgeous fair hued girl friends. They are a beautiful mix of El Salvadorian, Creole and just not dark like me girls. As soon as the five of us stepped foot on the beach, all of the attention went to me. I for one, was not use to being around them and getting a lot of play. This was at a time in LA, and I assume things haven't changed much, where my darker skin seemed to make me less appealing to some black men. I was once pushed out of the way by a man to get to my fair skin El Salvadorian friend. Asshole. Let's be clear here, I was no ugly duckling. It's not like I was not getting any play. It was just the amount of black men who preferred fair skin was highly noticeable. However, this was not the case in Montego Bay and Negril, Jamaica. In fact, it was the complete opposite. Wherever we went, I always had a suitor or several and I ate it up. Hey, I was on vacation.
This story has repeated itself on every vacation to the Caribbean since. Jamaica pt 2, Dominican Republic and Barbados. Oh Barbados! That's also a blog post for another time. Remember how I mentioned earlier I don't approach men. Well when you just know any man you want to talk to, wants to talk to you, you change your tune. I promise I wasn't purposely picking these places to test my theory either. I didn't actually select any of these places. I was a part of larger trips to the Caribbean 3 times in the past 12 months.
I do think it's time for me to test this theory in the Motherland. Anyone want to plan a trip soon?
I Miss You and One Sweet Day
Life is too short. I've heard it before, we all have, but its so very true. Life is too short to be unhappy. Life is too short to make change tomorrow. You or someone you love can be taken away without notice. I try and remember that every time I find myself mad at my sister for something stupid, upset with a friend for something even more stupid or just generally in a bad mood.
My mother was taken away just like that. One minute she had had a stroke and 5 days later, she passed. It was around the same time as the singer Aaliyah. Although there was a full year in between her passing and my mothers, I relate the last song Aaliyah released with my mother. Miss You. I cannot for the life of me get through hearing this song without crying. Sometimes its controllable, sometimes, not so much. I remember a couple years after her passing, I was at a backyard party. I was mingling and having a grand time. Then, the beat of 'Miss You' dropped and I immediately headed straight for the exit. I didn't tell anyone where I was going, I just needed to get far far away. These days, I can play the song if I want to get a good cry out when thinking about my mother. I have some beautiful memories and I am not ashamed to get a good cry in every once in a while.
I went off to college the same year she passed and one of the first verses begins "Off to college.." Whew chile. I'm crying good tears just writing this.
Off to college
Yes, you went away
Straight from high school
You up and left me
-
Did everything
For one another
Now you're gone and I'm lost without you here now
But I know I gotta live and make it somehow
Come back, to me
Can you, feel me (Callin')
Hear me, callin' (For you)
For you,'Cause it's
It's been too long and I'm lost without you
What am I gonna do?
Said I been needin' you, wantin' you
Wonderin' if you're the same and who's been with you
Is your heart still mine?
I wanna cry sometimes
I miss you
Now I'm sittin' here
Thinkin' 'bout you
And the days we used to share
It's drivin' me crazy
I don't know what to do
--
Come back...to me
Can you, feel me (Callin')
Hear me, callin' (For you)
For you, 'Cause it's
It's been too long and I'm lost without you
What am I gonna do?
Said I been needin' you, wantin' you
Wonderin' if you're the same and who's been with you
Is your heart still mine?
I wanna cry sometimes
I miss you
The other song that brings me to tears is One Sweet Day Mariah Carey featuring Boyz II Men. Even before the lyrics begin, I recognize the song based on the beat drop in the beginning too. Just like with Aaliyah's Miss You, if I'm in public, I either scramble to change the song or exit the room. If I'm alone, I might just let my tears flow. Not sure I'll ever get to a point where I can listen to these songs from beginning to end without crying. Its been 12 years since my mother passed and I still cannot.
"Sorry I never told you, all I wanted to say. Now it's too late to hold you. Cuz you've gone away, so far away. Never had I imagined, living without your smile....And I know you're shining down on me from heaven.."
Good thing my office has a door.
My mother was taken away just like that. One minute she had had a stroke and 5 days later, she passed. It was around the same time as the singer Aaliyah. Although there was a full year in between her passing and my mothers, I relate the last song Aaliyah released with my mother. Miss You. I cannot for the life of me get through hearing this song without crying. Sometimes its controllable, sometimes, not so much. I remember a couple years after her passing, I was at a backyard party. I was mingling and having a grand time. Then, the beat of 'Miss You' dropped and I immediately headed straight for the exit. I didn't tell anyone where I was going, I just needed to get far far away. These days, I can play the song if I want to get a good cry out when thinking about my mother. I have some beautiful memories and I am not ashamed to get a good cry in every once in a while.
I went off to college the same year she passed and one of the first verses begins "Off to college.." Whew chile. I'm crying good tears just writing this.
Off to college
Yes, you went away
Straight from high school
You up and left me
-
Did everything
For one another
Now you're gone and I'm lost without you here now
But I know I gotta live and make it somehow
Come back, to me
Can you, feel me (Callin')
Hear me, callin' (For you)
For you,'Cause it's
It's been too long and I'm lost without you
What am I gonna do?
Said I been needin' you, wantin' you
Wonderin' if you're the same and who's been with you
Is your heart still mine?
I wanna cry sometimes
I miss you
Now I'm sittin' here
Thinkin' 'bout you
And the days we used to share
It's drivin' me crazy
I don't know what to do
--
Come back...to me
Can you, feel me (Callin')
Hear me, callin' (For you)
For you, 'Cause it's
It's been too long and I'm lost without you
What am I gonna do?
Said I been needin' you, wantin' you
Wonderin' if you're the same and who's been with you
Is your heart still mine?
I wanna cry sometimes
I miss you
The other song that brings me to tears is One Sweet Day Mariah Carey featuring Boyz II Men. Even before the lyrics begin, I recognize the song based on the beat drop in the beginning too. Just like with Aaliyah's Miss You, if I'm in public, I either scramble to change the song or exit the room. If I'm alone, I might just let my tears flow. Not sure I'll ever get to a point where I can listen to these songs from beginning to end without crying. Its been 12 years since my mother passed and I still cannot.
"Sorry I never told you, all I wanted to say. Now it's too late to hold you. Cuz you've gone away, so far away. Never had I imagined, living without your smile....And I know you're shining down on me from heaven.."
Good thing my office has a door.
Monday, April 6, 2015
The Misinterpretation of Silent Scorpion
People
mistake...
my ability to compartmentalize my emotions with the absence of all
emotion.
my ability to cut off people who I don't think are good for me with the ability to absolve all thoughts of them all together.
my ability to give up a vice without vocalizing how much I miss it with the ability to stop yearning that for which is unhealthy.
Those who misunderstand my being misinterpret my actions and emotions.
Yes I am able to keep my feelings to myself but that doesn't mean I don't have them. That doesn't mean I don't go over every interaction with the opposite and same sex with a fine tuned comb, over and over and over again. It means I keep it to myself. It means sometimes I'm quiet. It means sometimes I'm not expressive but...I am not a robot. I am not without emotion. I am not without feelings of regret or guilt; without feelings of remorse or sorrow. Of thinking that all of the actions following my action were my fault. It means unlike others, sometimes I won't allow myself to make that call. To reach out. To speak up. To speak out.
I understand. My ability to keep those thought processes to myself makes others unaware of my over analysis of certain situations and for that I say...I guess. While I can make myself understand, it's pretty dumb to me that people don't afford me the same thoughtfulness (and yes this has been vocalized to me before). To believe that I don't have the same kind of feelings as other people is as hurtful as it is ridiculous.
my ability to cut off people who I don't think are good for me with the ability to absolve all thoughts of them all together.
my ability to give up a vice without vocalizing how much I miss it with the ability to stop yearning that for which is unhealthy.
Those who misunderstand my being misinterpret my actions and emotions.
Yes I am able to keep my feelings to myself but that doesn't mean I don't have them. That doesn't mean I don't go over every interaction with the opposite and same sex with a fine tuned comb, over and over and over again. It means I keep it to myself. It means sometimes I'm quiet. It means sometimes I'm not expressive but...I am not a robot. I am not without emotion. I am not without feelings of regret or guilt; without feelings of remorse or sorrow. Of thinking that all of the actions following my action were my fault. It means unlike others, sometimes I won't allow myself to make that call. To reach out. To speak up. To speak out.
I understand. My ability to keep those thought processes to myself makes others unaware of my over analysis of certain situations and for that I say...I guess. While I can make myself understand, it's pretty dumb to me that people don't afford me the same thoughtfulness (and yes this has been vocalized to me before). To believe that I don't have the same kind of feelings as other people is as hurtful as it is ridiculous.
I had to learn a long time ago to suppress my feelings. Life happened and in the face of it all, there were people depending on me who needed me to be strong and silent. So I stayed strong and silent in public. I'm really good at controlling things I can control. I guess I haven't learned how to shut it off just yet.
Food is a great example. I made up my mind that I was going to give up cheese for Lent. Let's not get it twisted, I LOVE cheese almost as much as I love swine. But the point was for me to pick something really difficult. Once I get past the first 5 days of a vice, I can be around it and almost not yearn for it at all. I ordered my burgers cheese-less, stayed away from my favorite pizza and all the other goodies that come with cheese for 46 days and 46 nights. Why, because I had made up my mind to control my behavior. It was something I had done before with sweets, liquor, etc. When I make my mind to give up something, its gone.
Food is a great example. I made up my mind that I was going to give up cheese for Lent. Let's not get it twisted, I LOVE cheese almost as much as I love swine. But the point was for me to pick something really difficult. Once I get past the first 5 days of a vice, I can be around it and almost not yearn for it at all. I ordered my burgers cheese-less, stayed away from my favorite pizza and all the other goodies that come with cheese for 46 days and 46 nights. Why, because I had made up my mind to control my behavior. It was something I had done before with sweets, liquor, etc. When I make my mind to give up something, its gone.
Do I have weak moments, yes. Do I stick to my resolution no matter
how founded or unfounded they are, for the most part yes. I have given up sweets for the month of April.
So when I'm presented with the opportunity to indulge I say nope not for me. That was until yesterday I decided, hey, I want a cheat day. So I indulged and wasn't the least bit satisfied. So the next 24 days will be a piece of cake...with no cake.
Those are things I can control.
Those are things I can control.
Things I can't control. My feelings and who they're for
are much more complicated.
When I decide that I am the most important person in my life, then yes outwardly, I express less about a person but they still occupy my mind. I have one person I wish would stop taking up space because we just aren't on the same page. But, I can't do anything about that. He's there. Feet up and relaxing. Taking up space and invading my thoughts. They aren't necessarily bad thoughts either, just thoughts I can't control. Same thing goes for some people who I am no longer friendly with. They take up space. They have their feet up as well. In that same space of emotion I cannot control. I am aware of this misinterpretation of my levels of control and working on managing appropriate times to express my emotions.
For that, I continue to be misunderstood.
For that, I continue to be misunderstood.
Friday, March 27, 2015
I Had A Dream Last Night
I Had A Dream Last Night
And you were in it
I don't usually remember my dreams
They happen
I wake up
It's over
But this dream I remember...vividly
And you were in it
Looking how I last saw
Feeling how I last felt
It was so real
I woke up
It's over
I Had A Dream Last Night
And you were in it
I don't usually remember my dreams
They happen
I wake up
It's over
But this dream I remember...vividly
And you were in it
Looking how I last saw
Feeling how I last felt
It was so real
I woke up
It's over
I Had A Dream Last Night
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