A Poet's In the Corner: Poking My Head In

When one door closes, another always opens...right?

What if you are standing in the dark, waiting for that open door? What do you do?
Do you wait for someone to light the candle?
Do you hope that the fire in you does not become extinguished?
Do you hope the fire in you lights your way?

Does God come save you? Because he never left.
I know this. Am always convinced of this.
But my breath has become bated, waiting for a future that might never come for me.
Am I worried about what my future looks like.
Convinced of what my future looks like.
And that's why it feels like its being blocked by skyscrapers, because I am looking for the wrong thing in the wrong place.

Smiling faces. Beautiful places. Mundane spaces for unfulfilled life forces. Of courses and divorces.
What forced us to become this way?

Will I ever be happy?
Will happiness find me?
Has it lost my address?
Have I become obsessed with excess.
Because I'm still too blessed to be this stressed.

Love and success.
I'm a mess.

Can I just have a minute.
Wait a minute.
This dark hallway...I'm still in it.

Let's educate our kids for the 21st Century...

And when we're done, let's do the same for ourselves...

A Curly Girl's: Thoughts on Some Recent Events

One:
I'm love, love, loving Willow Smith. Her voice is robust and edgy and I'm diggin that she's already developed a personal sense of style. Kudos Will & Jada, kudos.

"Whippin My Hair" is a fun, fun song, with plenty of fierce naturals and heads full of bountiful braids, curls, and coils, doing their thing.



Someone compared her to Rih Rih. Sorry, but she may be better, especially with Willow still being so young; all she's gonna do is get better. (No worries, Rih Rih, you're still fly as ever!)

Two:
I saw the infamous "Ghetto Fabulous Wig" @ Kohl's. You can read Afrobella's & Luvvie's spiel as well, but in short, here's what I have to say.
I really am just appalled since my hair is so similar to that "ghetto" wig. So many Black women have to constantly deal with the ignorance and dismay that arises when you discuss natural hair, and this is no different. And the fact that they had nerve to put a Caucasian woman in it like having black hair is some sort of "ghetto" costume? I'm done. I could go on for days..

But most importantly let me just say, that the place where they really effed this up is the name. How many exec's sat around to think of this BS? Like if this is supposed to be a part of a 70's costume (which the gold lycra is trying to tell me), then why not call it a 70's wig (which still isn't specific enough), or just what is it, a curly damn 'fro. What is wrong with...ok really, I'm done.

That's it for now. I'm in a mo-blogging mood so if I can get my fingers tapping on my phone, I'll def have something to say!

Fuschia Lipstick

Spells power, confidence, & sex appeal.

That's why its always in my arsenal. ;)

(Along with mascara and blush...but that's a story too long to tell for now...)

A Curly Girl's: Thoughts on the Brazilian Blowout

So I was eating my corn muffin (mmm) and watching "Good Morning America", when an interesting news report came on.

They cast a spotlight on products that were said to help straigthen hair or smooth hair, even in humidty.

Before I decided to go natural and almost stop heat styling (except for the very occassional blowout- about once every 6 months- for trims) I tried one product with "straightening" on the label. Clearly I was sick in the head because I'm lucky that product didn't damage my hair!

Needless to say its ended up in the trash a long time ago...

I digress.

The report talked about a straightening product from Garnier (didn't work), and a few others, but one definitely stuck out to me.

The most interesting (and frightening) product was the Brazilian blowout. It was a supposedly formaldehyde-free product that contained a mixture of amino acids that relaxes the hair for up to a month and even stays straight with washes.

Heres what the makers say about Brazilian Blowout (c/o http://www.brazilianblowout.com/):
"The BRAZILIAN BLOWOUT is the most innovative and effective professional smoothing treatment in the WORLD! Through the use of a Brazilian Super Nutrient Complex and a proprietary polymer system, the Brazilian Blowout actually improves the condition of the hair by creating a protective protein layer around the hair shaft to eliminate frizz and smooth the cuticle.The end result is smooth, healthy, frizz-free hair with radiant shine!What makes us different?The ONLY Professional Smoothing Treatment that improves the health of the hair. No Damage! and No harsh chemicals!NO FORMALDEHYDE!!Entire treatment completed in just 90 minutes!No down time! The minute you leave the salon, you can wash and air dry your hair, and it will be smooth, frizz-free and radiant!Results last up to 12 weeks.Leaves hair smooth, shiny and frizz-free!"

Honestly, it just seemed like any other relaxer to me.

The only reason it interested me was because I was wondering what was so
damnspecial about it.

Consequently, a lab tested Brazilian Blowout for safety concerns and found that although it was supposedly formaldehyde-free, in tests it was found to contain 8-10% formaldehyde.

What?

Embalming fluid...really? Like that's a compund used for dead people.

Like, come on, that's an unreasonable cost for beauty.

The sample the lab tested was taken from a distributor that was not the actual creator, so Brazilian Blowout of course rebuted the finiding, still backing their product, saying their salon-grade formula was still formaldehyde-free.

Does that mean they can't guarantee anything for their other formulas?

And what does that matter if the distribution center a salon buys from could possibly end up with a product that is dangerous and contains upwards of 10% of formaldehyde?

Umm yea, not sounding good folks.

What really put the cherry on it for me though was that one of the anchors on the show already tried the product and said she would still try it again.

Yea...

Like my friend at breakfast said, "Her hair is gonna look so awesome at her funeral."

This is all just IMO, but that makes you think about the stuff we do to be "beautiful".

Its in quotations for a reason...

The Most Rigorous Inteviewing Process I've Ever Experienced...

Ok. Although I've worked at my current job for 5 years, I have had my fair share of other work experience in which I had to have an interview with my intended employers.

Interviews are inevitable. But, what I find that really helps is to just be myself. Most of the time my humor is charming, and they appreciate the accompaning professionalism that goes with my humor, because my interviewer still knows that I am serious and I am taking them seriously.

I am not the sweaty palm girl, but boy was I today.

I had a five hour interview (yes, they have those!). It was tough, but I got through it. (If I get it, I'll say what it was for).

There was a sample lesson, writing exercise, discussion, group interview, and one-on-one interview. I was mildly ill-prepared (but conquered that like a champ), and I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life.

I felt special because out of 1600 applicants, I was chosen for an interview, but half of those 1600 were selected. With only 100 spots in this program for 800 applicants, I was definitely biting my fingernails.

I think this may have been the sweatiest day of my life...

After that I was starved and drained but I must say that I remain positive and am praying for the best.

I know it was only God that got me this far anyway...

Fashion, Style, and my Aspirations

I'm a self-proclaimed shopaholic, that's another blog fashionista.

Maybe not so self-proclaimed because I always am told how nice or cute I dress and how I put my own spin on things when it comes to my outfits.

If I had my way I'd have a clothing line, filled with all the inspirations daily life brings.

All urban, all contemporary.
Because I want the realest of the real to wear it.

Trendsetters. Ground-breakers. Innovaters.

I'm home grown though.

Nothing too far-fetched or crazy.

I think I just know how to dress me and want to show the world what its like.

Write Byte: Playing Phone Tag

Phone numbers don't change as often as you think,
And neither do everyday people.

Diets & Lifestyle Changes

I've dieted a million times, but I can only recall one other lifestyle change besides the one I am experiencing now.

I was 15 and lost 60 pounds with Weight Watchers. I was MY thin- 160 pounds; a curvy size 8. I felt like I looked amazing!
I was getting so many compliments and praises. My best girlfriend at the time hated on me relentlessly. At some points I ate only 800 calories a day, and was completely satisfied. I felt like my family was proud of me.
I FELT SO UGLY.
Low self-esteem has been my truth for a long time.
A million people could tell me I'm beautiful. Women of all races would stop me and tell me how gorgeous I am.
At age 16, I remember when I came out of anesthesia after getting my tonsils out, and my reaction, my raw emotion, was to burst into tears until I hyperventilated. My mother almost cried too until I became fully conscious and remembered what was happening. And as my mother and the nurse wheeled me out the outpatient center, I remember how 3 nurses walked up to my chair to tell me how beautiful I was. To bask in all my beauty. Had nothing to say but how pretty I was and moved on.
At age 19, a woman stopped me in a casino of all places, telling me she's a makeup artist, and hair stylist, a woman in the beauty industry, telling me how beautiful I was.
Until she passed, my grandmother always told me how beautiful I was, I looked like her. I look like her. Those "Hick's girls", the crowd stunners, crowd pleasers. Some of the most beautiful fair-skinned black women I have ever met, my grandmother and her sisters, my great aunts. I was a part of that.
My father's sisters, one of the most presence-grabbing, attention getters I have ever met. An actress, with one of the most full, beautiful faces I've ever seen. Lips that were just as full as mine. Hips that were full like mine.
Shortly after I lost 60 pounds, the man I loved more than life left me. I suffocated the life out of him, hoping he would give life to me. Instead he had some other woman blow life into him.
I was crushed.
That was the straw that broke the camels back. Life was spiraling forward ever since...since I realized he wasn't worth me. Since I realized he wasn't worthy. He was what he was- my man, the man I loved more than life, but only I made him that. I was not ready to feed this man my whole spirit, and I did. I left myself nothing but heartache and a bucket full of tears.
But who's to say who's lucky?
As I progress into a state of physical, and most importantly, mental well-being, I can truly say I'm blessed to have my full mind back.
I've relinquished some of the fears of my self-image. Tried my best to fulfill my life with loving friends and relationships, and I must say, I have, for the most part, exceled past my own beliefs.
I'm not perfect.
Before, after, or in-between.
But I know, progress is always forward-moving. And with that in mind, I can always succeed.
Minus 46 pounds and my heart dances with every color love. There are still some things I want in my life, but in time I will get them.
Life is an oyster for me to crack. Delicious, I say, delicious.

Who is She?

When I was finding myself, I called myself (in my head and to the few I loved at the time) the pheonix.
Not only because I felt mystical and beautiful finding the real me,
But because I couldn't find a place to rest.

My heart, mind, body, and soul had no place to lay their burdens down,
And I found myself as just a fiery heart full of love,
Soaring around a star-sprinkled sky.

I learned a lot of things in the recent years about myself that I was afraid to face.
A lot of insecurities that I didn't know how to deal with, or how to tackle without whittling myself down to the core.

I'm so afraid of doing that. Because I am a vulnerable, withered heart as it is, and I just couldn't take myself through the process. I genuinely admire all that do.

My hair became the last piece to the puzzle,
My puzzle that bound me to this Earth of social pressures and expectations unwillingly,
Because it was the key to the lock that closed my mind and stiffled my soul.

I don't know exactly where I'm going right now, but I have more direction than I did before.

Soul Searching

I woke up with an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I wasn't hungry.
I wasn't thirsty.

I think I just needed love.

I don't think I've ever understood how to find it.
If you look for it, or if it just finds you.

And when it finds me, I never understand what to do with it.

Like when its not around, I still look for it like it disappeared.
I have abandonment issues.

Why's it seem like love can leave me as fast as it came?

Why does love leave me sometimes, as fast as it came?

I wish I couldn't say I was the same girl my father abused emotionally, but I am.

I'm the same girl in some other woman's skin.

I'm independant, self-sufficient, self-motivated, but I still manage to be insecure.

I can't fight past these lonely feelings anymore.

I'm way too vulnerable and it hurts, like this empty feeling I know I still have inside.

There's no amount of life or space or time, that can fill it.

I drink a glass of water and that glass was always some kind of empty.

I'm the realist girl you'll ever meet, because I live on Front Street and its easy to find me.

You can always come around and it scares me.

I'm hurt by it.

You can always find me, but where is love?
Where did it go?
Did it leave and convince me that you are the same?
Or are you just a trace of something it left behind?

I'm out of my mind, crazy again.
Past the infactuation phase?
Never.
Let's stay together.
I beg you.

You're always leaving.
You left me alone.
And I can fend for myself,
But I've never understood the process.

I process these feelings often,
Because its what makes me,
The woman-girl I am and have always been.

My name means God's gift, but gift to whom?
Who will be my heaven-sent gentleman?
I always feel like I've found him and then abuse him emotionally like I've been.
So innocently misleading,
I've never meant to hurt you,
I hurt, me.
So often, I cry in my pillow.
My soul cries.
I can't hear it.
That silent killer.
Delivering and instilling my worst fears to date.

My soul is crying again,
Out in the open.
The world sees,
Stop embarrassing me.
This constant betrayal,
That is the mind-heart dichotomy.
Love me.
Leave me alone.

Because I think I know you.
You have to
Abuse me
Repeatedly
Because that was always love.
A real love I wish I could know

When I see it, so it can't escape me anymore.

Steppin' Out on SEPTA: People with Dementia

I wondered this many times but what exactly results in a person wildly traveling on public transportation, loudly muttering to themselves and being aggressive to other people. I almost feel bad for the random folks I see in the subway, since its almost obvious that their families are not around. I would not allow my mother or father in their old age, to wander the streets of Philadelphia with no caretaker, especially if they have some sort of mental disease. It's a sad sight to see. As for the drunkards, take a break until you get home, you reek of alcohol and your dirty words are disgusting and unwanted.

Squidwards, Spongebobs, & Patricks

So I just realized today that all my co-workers fit in one of three categories (yes, I still watch Spongebob Squarepants on occassion...what's not to like? Lol). There are Squidwards who stay inherently miserable and angry at the world, which is supposedly out to get them. There's the Spongebobs who are goofy, fun, and take life with a grain of salt (that's my category, lol). And of course, there are the Patricks, who couldn't buy a clue if it was on 75% off clearance, lol. Who knew I worked in Bikini Bottom?

(Oh, I forgot about Sandi...I'm sure I'd like the Sandies though...always cheery and spontaneous!)

I wish more men would stop actin like boys...

But a lot of them aren't ready for that yet.

Father's Day

Its been really hard for me to come to grips with this, but Father's Day has always been a really rough time because my father passed away when I was 18. Even though we went through some really really tough times together, I couldn't help but love him unconditionally. So I'd like to pay special respects to him peacefully and gracefully flying through the clouds in Heaven. If you can read this: I love you no matter how many times we may have hurt each other and I notice everyday that you are gone, but know you are happier now than you've ever been on Earth.

On another note, my mother did remarry and my stepfather has been a present force in my life. Thank you for all the things you have done for me, albeit big or small because you never had to and you still did. I'm so sorry its so hard to call you dad, but I really hope you understand. It doesn't make you any less important.

Thank yous out to all the fathers that are doing what they need to do and doing it well.

Sitting in the Dark

Can make silence so loud
And the world so clear.

Maybe that's why I'm still afraid of the dark.

Where Do Broken Hearts Go

I think they've all been forwarded to my address.

Everything looks good with Black.

That's it.

Mortician's & their Legacy: The Old Family Business

Since I was born, I have been familiar with death. My grandfather and father were morticians, and my father made me promise I'd never carry on the family business. He said I "wasn't built for it"...I could definitely agree with that...

There's always been something about death that has seemed so infinitely final to me.
Like the circle of life couldn't possibly have a dead end.
And why since the ripe age of 8 have I always seen that black hooded figure we call death,
As the largest incomprehensible stop sign I've ever seen?

I want to understand it, master it, educate myself on it,
But who could possibly know anything first hand?

It scares me.

But how can I be scared of something that has never affected the living?

The people that are living this moment are not consumed by death.
Those who are dying can't tell me about death.
Because death is the act of nothing;
It's the end.

It's incurable circumstance of having been alive.

Joy

I laugh loud and hard,
It's the only way I've survived.