GRACE by definition is....

Have a great Labor Day Weekend Michelle,

Your Work Is Done and a Beautiful Job You Did!!!

Passion and Desire Baby....

It was less than a year ago, that I first kinda met my real-life [well "virtual real-life"] romantic couple idols....my virtual friends Ali and Zay.

You see, though I have yet to meet either of them face to face and have as of yet never even spoken with the Ali half of this amazing lovers equation, their love story is one that I treasure and place right up there with those of the greats such as Romeo and Juliet, Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee, and Thomasine and Bushrod!

I met Zay via the blogosphere, and through him I learned of Ali and his over-arching love for her. If you knew him, even if you only knew him through his blog, you would know of his passion for his Ali for he expressed it effortlessly through his poetry there:

She Used Me

She used my brush to paint a masterpiece on the canvas in her belly
Delicate strokes applied in living color within her flesh
She used my pen to write a novel on the pages of her thighs
A manuscript to be read aloud over and over
She used my marker to write a label across her chest
My name in big bold glistening letters
She used my pillar to support her fantasies
Until I made each one come true
She used my key to unlock her inner self
To be the woman of my dreams
She used my ruler to measure our love
Inch by inch as it grew

She yearned to give me her living heart
Even as it beat within her chest but
Her life is much too precious
So she gave me the key
To it instead

If you could hear the passion in his voice when he speaks of her or the fierce protectiveness that comes through the phone lines whenever he feels that she is in any way threatened by anything, then you would know what it is that I am talking about when I say I can only pray that one day a man [as amazing and in touch with himself as my friend Zay is] will feel that way about me.

Never having actually spoken with Ali, I've heard her voice and the passion it carries for Zay as well via the blogsphere. A visit to Zay's blog before it was closed would have allowed you to witness hauntingly beautiful photography of Ali such as the one I stole up above. Just stop and take a look at that photo for a second will you; even though you can see less than half of Ali's beautiful face, what does what you can see say to you? To me, it says this is a woman in love who is passionately at peace and happily enveloped in the love of the man with whom GOD has gifted her.

A deeper dive into Zay's blog would have led you to this photo and this anecdote about Ali in which her feelings for Zay are painfully clear....

[There are absolutely no words to express how
privileged I feel to be loved as strongly, trusted as completely, let in as deeply as how
Ali loves me, trusts me and let’s me in. The photo above was taken on my first trip to
Jamaica. While Ali and I were together I was very surprised to see her crying. I mean
we were having the most wonderful time in the world and there she was crying. I
asked what was wrong and without looking at me she just said in that soft voice of
hers. “I know you’re not leaving until tomorrow, but I miss you already.” ]
*******************
- as told by Zay of A Lover's Dream

as well as these comments from Zay which demonstrate that he knows exactly where he stands with this woman....

Bad...
Being madly in love with a woman in another country
Good...
The absolute certainty she gives me that she is just as crazy about me. All evidenced by her words, her actions, her sacrifices, and the incredible efforts she puts out to always make me feel that I am the most important person in her life.
Bad...
She lives in Jamaica.
Good...
She lives in Jamaica ;-) 7 trips in 2007. Some people in blogland be hatin' but I still got mad love for ya'll LOL ;-) Besides, very soon she will be here with me and there wont be any more Jamaica trips for a while.

See why these two are my romantic idols? When at longlast I finally grow up and fall in love, I wanna be like my friends Ali and Zay! In my mind, their names could just as easily have been Passion and Desire because to me, that is exactly what their love represents.

As Zay said in the post excerpted above, Ali was scheduled to be here with him very soon. Well blog friends, VERY SOON IS NOW and Ali should already have arrived if the weather and all else cooperated. Oh how I hope she is here so that my friend Zay will at long last have what he has wanted for so very long....his Ali! If indeed she is here, I wanted to take this opportunity to welcome her home and into the family she may not even know she has as of yet.

Ali, please know that though you may feel very far from your own family and what has been home to you for as long as you can remember, you have a home and a family here as well that is looking forward to welcoming and embracing you with outstretched arms. Please feel free to think of me as the long-lost sister you've only just now learned of and know that I am here whenever and if ever you need me and even if you find you don't need me at all.

You have given my friend Zay a joy and a light that I can HEAR in his voice, and a woman capable of giving a light that one can hear when it can't be seen, is definitely a woman I would feel privileged and honored to get to know.

Congratulations to you both, Ali and Zay; and please accept this gift from me via my gurl Jilly from Philly as the very first time I heard this a month or so ago, it brought the two of you to mind. Blessings and continued love to you and the beautiful, black family you will create together.

When Happiness (or what looks like it) Is Not Worth What It Costs....

I don't know if you guys realize this or not, but I am a very introspective person in many ways and as such, I find myself spending quite a bit of time reflecting on events that have occurred during my life and how those things impact me and my outlook. The last few days have been an absolute exercise in introspection for me; let me explain.

I am blessed or cursed [depending on how you look at it], with a really good memory for dates and events. If a date is special to me for any reason, good or bad, I will always remember it. Today, August 18th, is the birthdate of my ex. Over the weekend I was acutely aware that this day was coming and it still carried the significance of being my ex's B-day in my mind. From the moment the thought of his impending birthday popped into my mind, I found myself doing what I do...reflecting back on his previous birthdays.

Two years ago as his birthday approached, I was busy as a bee as I ran around purchasing special gifts for him which I arranged to have delivered along with each course of the delicious dinner I had arranged for us at a premeire restaurant here in St. Louis. I picked him up from the airport the night before his birthday while my girlfriend delivered his wrapped presents to the restaurant on my behalf where they would be stashed until his birthday dinner the following night.

When his birthday actually arrived, as it turned out, we spent the entire day arguing and almost did not go to dinner as I had planned. It was one of the most trying days I have ever spent with anyone as he was angry with an administrator at his college but chose to take out his frustrations on me all day. I remember thinking "Buddy, you are going to feel so badly once you see all of the trouble I've gone to trying to make this a special day for you." I wrote this post about him and how blessed I felt to have him in my life and what I hoped the future held for us. Somehow, we made it through the day and when we finally arrived at the restaurant, we had the best date of our lives together. That was the high point of my time with him....I was happy.

A year later (last year), as his birthday approached, I was at the lowest point I can ever remember in my life. We (read he), had made the decision to end our relationship against my wishes, and I truly did not see how I was ever going to recover from the heartbreak that came with that decision. I wrote several sad little posts which illustrate the depths to which my spirit had sunken during this time. Never before had I been so depressed, and I hope never again to have that particular experience.

This year as the fact that it was soon to be his birthday once again reached my conscious mind, I found myself reflecting on the last two years and the thought I was left with was this....

What is happiness worth? Two years ago as I planned his birthday surprises, I had never before been happier. However, in the midst of my "happiness", I had to work harder than I ever had before to try to make him happy because he was in my opinion a very high maintenance and temperamental man who was prone to rapid mood swings with which I could barely keep up. When he wanted to, he could make me feel like the world revolved around the two of us, but just as easily, he could erase me from the world if he was of a mind to do such a thing. Then, last year I couldn't spell happiness as he completely changed the world I knew by deciding to no longer be a part of my world as abruptly as one might decide to change one's mind about what to wear. With that seemingly spur of the moment decision, he took away every shred of happiness I felt. Today, though I wouldn't say that I am happy [though I also would NOT say that I am unhappy either], I can say with absolute certainty that I am content and looking forward with boundless optimism to the happiness that I am positive is coming my way. The funny thing is that as much as I appreciate the lifelong love affair I have had with happiness, I must admit that when I think of what the tenuous happiness that he brought to my life cost me and my spirit, I'll pass and take the contentment and peace of mind I am blessed with right now over that particular brand of fleeting, erratic happiness.

Like every major relationship I've ever had with a man has done, this one taught me a valuable lesson as well....sometimes what passes for happiness may not be worth what it costs. Whenever that is the case, I have learned to simply let it go and hold on to my belief and faith in the fact that what is for me is mine as I continue living for the happiness that it sure to find me eventually. I know that whenever it does find me, it will definitely be worth the price I will be expected to pay for it! The take-away?...

Everything costs you something....just make sure it is worth the price!!!

Hands Down The Best Date Ever!!!

In this world, a girl/woman is lucky if she is gifted with one man who truly loves her. Me...so far I've been blessed with two. It started with my Daddy who I spoke about in this post. It continues with my son who has been the subject of so many posts such as this one, and this one, and this one...you get the point. ***BIG GRIN***

The fact of the matter is that thanks to the blessing of having been loved unconditionally by these two amazing men, this sistah here can recognize a good man when she runs across one. What that means to the rest of the world and especially to any man who might wish to insert himself into this sistah's life is that he better come correct because she has been loved by the best and they have set a standard that he MUST be able to match!

Now if you would be so kind as to join me for a little video montage of my best date ever!!!


And as an added bonus, let's all "Crank That Soldier Boy!!!"

Hillary Gives The Phrase "BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY..." A Whole New Meaning!

Somewhere she completely missed the concept of TEAM. I'm guessing no one ever told her there is no "I" in "TEAM", and that even if there were, there is a way to promote one's self even while playing as a member of the team. Perhaps she doesn't realize that being a member of the Democratic Party makes her an assumed member of the same team on which Mr. Obama plays even as he promotes himself as a standout star of said team. When winning is so important one is willing to elevate one's ultimate opponent (read: JOHN MCCAIN) above one's team mate (read: BARACK OBAMA) and intermediate opponent (and if her rhetoric holds any water, her possible future "running mate"), in my humble opinion, ONE IS LOST and winning or losing for that matter doesn't much matter because they become the same thing.

Still don't believe that for Mrs. Clinton the program is WIN AT ALL/ANY COST? Click this link:

http://news.aol.com/newsbloggers/2008/03/11/ill-go-to-democratic-convention-with-a-pitchfork-if-hillary-ste/ where you can find the article that goes along with this clip:

Through it all, Mr. Obama continues to forge his path ahead without sacrificing the class and grace that are without question among the many qualities that first endeared him to me as a candidate. The take-away here is that just because the pitcher pitches low balls to you, YOU don't necessarily have to stoop to HER level in order to hit them. YOU can hit the low ball pitched to you without lowering the standard YOU bring to the game. Don't believe me...WATCH AND LEARN:

OH, and by the way, I knew Mr. Obama had won TEXAS!

http://news.aol.com/political-machine/2008/03/11/its-official-clinton-lost-texas/

BE EVER VIGILANT FOLKS...We've seen this before, so let's not stand by and take it this time! MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD!!!

(I'm sorry for a second political rant in a row, but I get soooooooooo upset by folk who don't play fair. A huge believer in the thought process that says we all learned "EVERYTHING WE NEEDED TO KNOW IN KINDERGARTEN", I find all of this to be a bit difficult to swallow. However, all of that notwithstanding, I promise no more politics for at least a week, maybe even two ;)

This Black Woman Supports Mr. Barack Obama...and she ain't afraid to say it!!!

Can anyone tell me where these political pundits get off with this assumption that because I am a black woman who supports Mr. Barack Obama's candidacy for president, I am simply delivering my support to him because of the fact that we both happen to be black?

• I have never, ever voted for Jesse Jackson for any reason...I wouldn't vote him dogcatcher; oh and btw, he's black too.
• Before this election, I have never voted for any black candidate for the Presidency of the United States and I was black in all the previous elections in which I voted too.
• I have voted for many white candidates for any number of offices even in some instances when there was a black candidate running as the opponent; but I guess they probably assumed I punched the wrong chad.
  

If you are able to answer that question, let's try another one. Please explain to me (slowly as you must realize that as a black woman my ability to comprehend is limited at best and you may lose me if you go too fast **smh**) why it is that the converse is not the case; meaning that when a white male or female votes for Billary or McCain or any other of the multitudes of available caucasian candidates the same assumption is not made?

• I suppose white folks vote the issues because...why again?
• It reminds me of an incident that occurred on my last job where this brother (i.e. African-American colleague) would not join me and the 3 other black co-workers in our division for lunch in the corporate lunch room for fear he would be seen as "only cavorting with blacks". First of all, I don't cavort; however, if I choose to start, why I ask you must we be concerned about such things when white folks find that they can sit with/vote for whomever without racial assumptions being drawn. I say, "I'll sit wherever and vote for whomever I damned well please and anyone who has a problem with that can kiss my....!"

Now that you're all warmed up, I'm sure you will be able to knock this one out of the park for me! Why is it that the fact that I CHOOSE to support the candidacy of Mr. Barack Obama MUST BE all about race when the fact that some caucasians CHOOSE not to support him MUST BE about anything else BUT race?

• Because the fact of the matter is that it is NOT POSSIBLE that white folks in American would choose not to support for president the perfect man to take the reigns of this country based on one reason, BECAUSE HE IS A BLACK MAN...
  

Tired yet? You should be, 'cause believe me when I say, "I most definitely am!" I AM TIRED! Tired of having my intelligence be considered suspect because I have chosen to support the candidate I BELIEVE best aligns with what I consider to be the most urgent needs of this country: GETTING THE HELL OUT OF IRAQ YESTERDAY and ELECTING A PRESIDENT WHO ACTUALLY REMEMBERS THAT THOSE WHO WORK THE HARDEST DAY IN AND DAY OUT TO MAKE THIS COUNTRY THE AMAZING PLACE IT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE (yeah I said it dammit, **POTENTIAL** 'cause we damned sure ain't there yet! So bring it on, I can take it just like Michelle!) DESERVE A PRESIDENT WHO WILL WORK ON THEIR BEHALF TOO!

I'm tired of folk who don't even know me and who can't begin to relate to what my experience has been trying to tell me what MY ISSUES are. All this talk about Obama supporters being conned by his eloquent speeches makes me wonder if these so called "political analysts" have ever listened to a word Mr. Obama has spoken. Please someone tell me what part of "I plan to withdraw our troops from Iraq within a year and a half" isn't about the issues facing this country. What part of "I have a plan for Universal Healthcare that does not involve garnishing an individual's payroll or blocking his/her ability to secure gainful employment" is not about the issues facing this country? At what point does "Instead of giving no-bid contracts to companies headed by the President's former campaign manager, we will make sure that rebuilding benefits the local economy. I have worked across the aisle in the Senate to crack down on no-bid contracts, and to make sure that emergency contracting is only done immediately after an emergency. When I am President, if there is a job that can be done by a New Orleans resident, the contract will go to a resident of New Orleans. And we'll provide tax incentives to businesses that choose to set up shop in the hardest hit areas. " fail to address one of the major issues facing New Orleans and the the areas hardest hit by Hurricane Katrina which even now, more than two years later is still virtually a devastated wasteland. In this world of political pundits dictating for us what our votes mean and/or say we believe I ask you why does this perspective "Each year, as we watch the State of the Union, we see half the chamber rise to applaud the President and half the chamber stay in their seats. We see half the country tune in to watch, but know that much of the country has stopped even listening. Imagine if next year was different. Imagine if next year, the entire nation had a president they could believe in. A president who rallied all Americans around a common purpose. That's the kind of President we need in this country. And with your help in the coming days and weeks, that's the kind of President I will be." not receive more airtime? I don't know about you, but I have not had many phone calls or pieces of literature mailed to me by the republican candidates appealing to me to forget party alignment and work with them to realize this country's promise. Does the fact that Mr. Obama spoke out very specifically against the accepted politics of getting things done in Washington D.C. in this passage, "It's a game where lobbyists write check after check and Exxon turns record profits, while you pay the price at the pump, and our planet is put at risk. That's what happens when lobbyists set the agenda, and that's why they won't drown out your voices anymore when I am President of the United States of America." fail in some way to elucidate his stand on the issue of the power of Washington lobbyists and large corporations?

Most of all, I need it to be known that I resent with every single cell in my body when I am beat over the head and ridiculed for what most draws me to this particular candidate...our (his and my) shared belief in this:

"Now when I start talking like this, some folks tell me that I've got my head in the clouds. That I need a reality check. That we're still offering false hope. But my own story tells me that in the United States of America, there has never been anything false about hope."

and this:

"But we always knew that hope is not blind optimism. It's not ignoring the enormity of the task ahead or the roadblocks that stand in our path. It's not sitting on the sidelines or shirking from a fight. Hope is that thing inside us that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us if we have the courage to reach for it, and to work for it, and to fight for it. "

See, the truth of the matter is that I was raised on hope! I was fed it at least 3 times a day and then my feedings were supplemented with more hope for snack times. It is my belief that in a world full of folks who want to believe that they have all the answers, the only smart thing to do is to find the one who offers hope along with his/her answers as nothing else much matters once they find out that their answers were not necessarily the solution to what ails us. When that point is reached, once the answers have run dry, the only thing left to fall back on is a good dose of hope; it enables one to brush oneself off and try again. Lack of hope results in stagnation as one becomes stuck wherever one is...sounds like the State of Our Union today doesn't it? We have no hope under the current administration and are all just trying to "tread water" until someone/something comes to rescue us. This one thing I know for sure, we are our own rescue squad and by voting to bring hope back into the politics of America, we can not only rescue ourselves, we can rescue our country. One of these days, those candidates who ridicule the hope offered as a primary platform in the Obama campaign will find that their answers (like the answers of so many before them and maybe even the answers of Mr. Obama) are NOT the solutions to the problems we face that they were expecting them to be. When that day comes, I hope their address is not 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue; because if indeed that is the case, we as a country will be faced once again with the perpetuation of all the issues that currently plague this nation and at the same time, find that we are doomed yet again to another long, painful season devoid of hope. I can't promise you that Mr. Obama has the right answers, but what I can promise is that if he finds that he doesn't, he will have the one key ingredient necessary for staying the course and trying again. How many of the other candidates in this electoral process offer anything similar to that?

This IS THE ONLY TIME YOU WILL EVER HEAR ME SAY THIS...but please, I beg of you, take Bill Clinton's advice...

(obviously said while campaigning for Kerry...still no less true today!)

I Was A Poem

I was a poem once.
I was the memory of Christmases past.
I was the feeling of anticipation of the last day of school.
I was the joy of summertime, hide and seek, red rovers, and tag.
I was his childhood.

I was a poem once.
I was the aroma of bacon on Sunday mornings.
I was the comfort of hugs, kisses, and talk of “when I grow up”.
I was the feeling of being tucked in tight preventing bed bug bites.
I was his security.

I was a poem once.
I was a cross my heart, hope to die, needle in eye girl.
I was a pinky swear, blood brothers, “you my dawg” ace in the hole.
I was “the only one who ever really knew me at all”, all the way down sistah.
I was his confidante.

I was a poem once.
I was a safe harbor in rough waters.
I was shelter from the cold, harsh reality of life’s storms.
I was nourishment, blazing fireplaces, and a shoulder to lean on.
I was his home.

I was a poem once.
I was the vision of breeze bent palm trees.
I was the scent of pineapples and pure cane sugar traveling on the wind.
I was the sound of ocean waves lapping the shore on a brilliant sunny day.
I was his vacation.

I was a poem once.
I was the alpha AND I was the omega of love.
I was the yin to the yang that was he, forever.
I was “the one” without whom the continuation of breathing made no sense.
I was all that and a bag of chips; the good kind, the make you lick your fingers kind.
I was his life.

I was a poem once.
One day I’ll be a poem again.
Soon.


© Sharon J. All Rights Reserved 2008

Life As Defined By Poetry And Math

The New Obama Video by Will.I.Am.

Originally this video was not a part of this post. It was added as an afterthought because upon stumbling across it out here in the world wide web I love so much, I felt it also represents another aspect of the poetry that is life for me right now so I decided to do an uprecedented thing and add it into an existing blog post. I hope you liked it.

Those who know me well know that I am a lover of all things beautiful. Not just beauty in the physical sense of the word, though I admire physical beauty as well. However, right now, I'm thinking of beauty along more poetic lines.

I love the beauty of family relationships. I love knowing that even when feeling isolated and alone, I only have to reach out to my family and some or even all of them will be at my side surrounding me with love and happiness in an instant. This kind of love and assurance makes life poetic in my opinion.

I love the beauty of my friendships. I love having been born into a wonderful family that is enhanced, extended, and diversified by the amazingly wonderful people that GOD chooses to pass through my life as friends. Some were sent to me very early on and have stayed with me from that time to this. Some have only recently shown up on the scene, but fit like a pair of jeans I've worn since high school (that is, assuming I could fit any pair of jeans I owned in high school still ;-) ....soon, baby soon!). And there are even those who show up just to fulfill a specific role and then pass on through never to be heard from or seen again; and never to be forgotten. Regardless of when they show up or how long they stay, my friends bring music, light, and poetry to my life that fills me with wonder and amazement even in my darkest hours. Once again, an example of life's majestic poetry.

I love being in love with black men. I love so many things about being in love with black men I don't even know where to begin. I love the way they have of putting their hand in the small of my back and leading me oh so gently into a room. I love the deep resonance of the black man's voice, even those who are tenors. I love the feel of their breath on my neck as they stand behind me in their attempt to support me and keep me strong. I love that when I find one that wants to be there for me, he is SO THERE that it is impossible for me to feel afraid of anything. I love the way black men call me "Baby"...HAVE MERCY! Okay, this is only one point of this post so I'll stop here, but make no mistake about it, I LOVE BLACK MEN...I DO, I DO, I DO, DO , DO! By my standards, black men are definitely living poetry.

I love so many things of beauty, but when I stop to think about it, I think I may love the beauty of words the most. I guess you could say that words to me are one of life's most precious gifts.

I love words because they have the power to do anything. Words are the true SUPER HEROES of my world as they are able not only to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but they can bring smiles, cause laughter, elicit tears, and even save lives; on the other hand, words have the power to destroy. WORDS CAN DO ANYTHING MY HEART DESIRES THEM TO DO! Words provide each and every one of us with the power to be anything and anyone we choose to be, if we follow just one simple rule. We must understand that words are powerful and once spoken, they have the power to change everything so we must be ever-vigilant that the words we speak are spoken ALWAYS in love so as not to bring about destruction and devastation; because once spoken, no matter what, words cannot be taken back no matter how much one might wish they could be.

I love words because they are able to be used by anyone...THEY are the great equalizer. Whether used to relay stories of truth or fiction, fact or fantasy, prose or poetry, words can be used in some amazing way by anyone willing to take the time to use them. That being said, I am only recently discovering that my favorite way to use and to see words be used is in the poetic sense. I've been blessed in the last month to meet through this amazing world of blogging some of the most wonderful wordsmiths I've ever come across. I'm feeling kind of lazy right now so I did not create the links, but if you love words like I love words, then you should do yourself a favor and click the following links in my blogroll to the left:

• Bloggers' Delight To Write - You will find amazing poetry from various blogger/poets.
• Sojourner G - You will find beautiful, lyrical poetry, most with a connection to scripture.
• DUETS - You will find poetic collaborations created by various blogger/poets who have brought together their beautifully, poetic minds.
• Lovebabz - You will find stories about real life told with amazing candor and honesty with the clarity of the most expensive crystal; each supported by poetry from some of the most amazing poets on the planet.
• Ali's Zay - You will find not only amazing poetry here, but some of the most evocative photography I've ever seen along with an amazing story of one black man's ongoing, all-consuming passion for his beautiful, black woman.

Yes, without question, poetry is my favorite life form if indeed what I believe to be true is true: Words are life, and life is poetry. I know for many, poetry is viewed as bourgois, elitest, and just plain old boring. However, the world has changed and poetry is changing right along with it. From Edgar Allen Poe's Raven and Annabelle Lee to Maya Angelou's Phenomenal Woman to Ms. Just Write Now's The One...A History of Black Women, (I always wanted to see my name and the title of one of my own poetic creations listed next to these individuals who are both two of my all time favorite poets...see how words work ;-) there is something in the world of poetry for everyone. The only thing required to find the poetry that fits you, is to go and try some on!

So in closing, I want to leave you all with a little algebra because though not necessarily explicitly poetic in and of themselves, mathematical equations have the uncanny ability to define life in its simplest form and as many of you already know, simplicity is poetic. Y'all remember the transitive property don't y'all...IF [a] IS EQUAL TO [b], AND [b] IS EQUAL TO [c], THEN [a] IS EQUAL TO [c]...

LIFE[a] IS[=] POETRY[b].

POETRY[b] IS[=] BEAUTIFUL[c].

LIFE[a] IS[=] BEAUTIFUL[c].

Words are gifts y'all, give generously!!

(Don't thank me, the math lesson is on me ! ;-)

My 100th Post & 100 Things That Make Me Me...

That's right blog family -- The big ONE ZERO ZERO! From November 2005 to now, I have somehow managed to come up with one hundred topics to pontificate upon on this here blog! So in honor of this momentous occasion, I have decided to drop the shroud of secrecy I typically cower behind (lol...yeah right!) and let y'all in on who the real Ms. Just Write Now really is...so here goes...




1. I am the firstborn daughter of the most generous woman ever born. Thus generosity was inherited through my DNA.



2. I am the eighth and favorite grandchild of the best mother/grandmother ever born. Thus motherhood came as naturally as breathing to me.



3. I am a Pisces and as such I don't favor eating seafood....too much like cannibalism I guess.



4. I am 42 years old (soon to be 43 on the 23rd) and proud of it. I encourage my 18 year old 270 pound son to call me Mom in public because I enjoy hearing "You don't look old enough to have a son his age." so much.



5. I grew up in all black neighborhoods in the inner city of St. Louis, Missouri and therefore, never dealt with the stupidity of racism directly until after my self-image, self-worth, and self esteem had ALL been well established.



6. I never attended school with a white person until college; except for a white boy named Derek in high school who didn't count as far as we were concerned because adopted by a black family, he was just one of us.



7. I am a realist about everything but I have a very active, creative mind and fantasy world.



8. The first time I traveled on an airplane, I was 16 years old and going to Italy on a foreign exchange program trip for 3 months.



9. I have been truly in love (romantically) with three men in my 42 years.



10. As a young girl, I planned to get pregnant, never tell the father, and raise my child alone while never marrying.



11. I changed my mind about #10 by the time I reached adulthood, but still ended up getting pregnant and raising my child alone even though I DID tell the father.



12. I have one son.



13. I love my son more than anything/one PERIOD.



14. A year ago I thought I would LOVE to be married "until death do us part"; now, I'm not so sure.



15. In my heart I have been married to every man with whom I have been in love.



16. I have always been a one-man woman.



17. I have ZERO tolerance for liars.



18. I am fiercely protective, scratch that, OVER-protective of those I love.



19. I am extremely principle driven and will sacrifice everything for my principles in most situations.



20. I love my family beyond reason.



21. I historically tend to neglect myself in favor of others.



22. As I get older, I am becoming more selfish and self-centered. This is a good thing.



23. I wish I had better credit. I am aggressively working on this.



24. I hope that at least one of the people who love me would go to the extremes to protect and care for me that I would go to for any of the people that I love.



25. Though gregarious most of the time, I LOVE solitude when I want it.



26. I cry very easily. I always have. I cried in front of my boss a few months ago. DAMN!!



27. Only people I give a damn about can hurt my feelings.



28. I am not afraid of confrontation.



29. I consider myself to be one of the smartest people I know.



30. Contrary to what many believe, I am barely computer literate. This blog is an exercise in cutting and pasting and trial and error.



31. The achievement that defines me as a person is my son.



32. I would lie, steal, cheat, kill, and WHATEVER else that might be necessary to protect and care for my son.



33. I am most afraid of prison and random acts of violence.



34. Though extremely spiritual, organized religion barely factors into my existence.



35. I loved the PO for more than 20 years. Boy was that a HUGE mistake!



36. I was often afraid that the PO and I wouldn't always be a part of each other's lives. THAT was NOT a mistake.



37. Once Ryan (my son) leaves home (for college, his own place, etc.), I want to already have a life of my own underway. I am working at developing my own interests now for that reason.



38. I have recently learned that I have a very small number of friends. However, they are the most devoted, loyal, dependable group of people anyone could ever hope to have in their corner.



39. I am a major movie buff. I especially love to see movies that allow for amazing performances by black performers even if the characters they are portraying are from the seedier side of black life. It is ACTING afterall people and what is IS.



40. I would be very helpful at trivia night if movies or movie-making were a category.



41. I love music but know nothing about it. I can't tell you who sings what nor can I tell you the title of most songs. However, I love music and lyrics and though I was not blessed with the ability to carry a tune I sing at the top of my lungs both in the shower and when I am in the car alone.



42. The easiest decision I ever made was to give my brother a kidney.



43. The hardest decision I ever made was to keep working at my last relationship.



44. The decision I made that has had the greatest impact on my life was to have and raise my son alone when I discovered I was pregnant.



45. The one thing I would do differently if I could go back and change anything would be to be more protective of my credit rating.



46. The people who have had the greatest influence on my life are Ryan, my mother, and my grandmother.



47. The things I am most vain about are: my skin, formerly my nails and hair, and my writing.



48. The things I am most insecure about are: relationships because of the baggage of past ones.



49. I think I would be a different person entirely if: my father had lived until I was an adult.



50. My favorite color is red. It makes me feel positive and upbeat.



51. Sometimes I get depressed and when I do, I tend to hibernate in my cave (bedroom) until I realize to get through it I have to get up and out and focus on something outside of myself. Thankfully, my depressions pass quickly.



52. Most people are uncomfortable when I am anything other than optimistic, cheerful, and upbeat. So I try to avoid exposing them to my darker side.



53. I am a non-practicing pharmacist by training.



54. I plan and execute one helluva party.



55. I have no patience with adults who choose to focus on the negative.



56. I LOVE CHILDREN unconditionally unless they're bad as hell or disrespectful to adults, particularly their own parents.



57. I used to be in favor of capital punishment though I realize it is not always equitably applied. This changed in the last year after reading Dead Man Walking.



58. My free time is spent reading, writing, and traveling as much as I can.



59. I very rarely wear make-up.



60. I like to dress up in formal wear.



61. I think my best physical attributes are my eyes, lips, legs, and breasts.



62. I want to lose 40 pounds still.



63. I lost 35 pounds in 2006 but gained 15 of it back during the post-transplant "no-exercise" period last year.



64. I am starting a new fitness regimen this weekend.



65. I love to kiss and be kissed.



66. I am a huge fan of sex.



67. Dessert is the most important meal of the day in my opinion.



68. I believe that I will be financially wealthy one day though I don't feel that it will be a consequence of my job.



69. I wish I had had more children....at least two more, another son and a daughter.



70. I love surprises and was never the type of child who searched for her Christmas presents in the house or tried to guess what was in a wrapped package.



71. If I ever do have a wedding, it will be a simple, sentimental affair preferably on a beach or in a park with a huge reception/PARTY to follow.



72. I think white people enjoy life more than black people because of a freedom to try anything without the constraints black folks place on themselves and each other with the "black folks don't do ....." commentary that so often meets our decision to try a new adventure.



73. I think black folks should be more willing to discuss in mixed-race company many of the topics we tend only to discuss amongst ourselves. I make a point of doing this which enables me to really get a better understanding of the differences and similarities between these two not so diametrically opposed cultures.



74. The worst thing I ever did and got away with (that I am willing to talk about here) was when I received an "F" for a semester grade in typing for cutting class and my high school principle changed it arbitrarily to a "B" so it would not damage an otherwise stellar transcript.



75. I have a fetish for underwear and pajamas.



76. I spend too much time on my computer.



77. My worst fault is my tendency to procrastinate.



78. My earliest memory is of the day my baby sister was brought home for the first time when I was two years old.



79. The most amazing thing I ever saw was the births of my nephew and cousin.



80. My favorite holiday is Christmas.



81. I have NEVER dated outside my race.


82. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Black Men!!!! YIPPPEEEEEE!


83. I have the best best friend of all the best friends ever created!


84. I have not owned a personal car since 1996. Let's hear it for company vehicles!


85. I often read the same book over as many a four times in the case of books like Roots and Kindred.


86. I have recently discovered a love of poetry.


87. I believe I could be a great songwriter if I put my mind to it.


88. I adore my birthday and celebrate it with more enthusiasm with each successive year.


89. I hardly ever worry about anything.


90. My most superficial goal is to look great in a two piece swim suit by November 2008.


91. My loftiest goal is to be a published author in the next calendar year.


92. I would NEVER end a friendship over a monetary issue.


93. As I have grown older, I have accepted the belief that some people are just evil.


94. I believe that sometimes the lesson is that we don't get to know exactly what the lesson is.


95. I believe that there is someone for everyone.


96. I work hard at being conscientious of the feelings of others.


97. I believe that most people actually receive the image of me that I try to project.


98. I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT MY PARENTS (MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER) ARE PROUD OF ME!


99. I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT I AM A GOOD MOTHER.


100. NEXT TO MY FAMILY, I FEEL MOST BLESSED BY MY ABILITY TO WRITE AND THE GIFT OF STUMBLING UPON BLOGGING AS THESE TWO THINGS HAVE ENHANCED MY LIFE IN WAYS THAT ONLY MY FAMILY DID BEFORE.

SO THERE YOU HAVE IT BLOG FAMILY

ME,

IN A HUNDRED LITTLE NUT SHELLS ;)

With Candy So Abundant, Sugar Coating Is Not Necessary!

I think it has been awhile since I let go of a good ole' old fashioned rant so today's the day!

Whose dumb a$$ idea was Valentine's Day anyway?

Now before any of you go off trying to convince yourselves that I'm pissed merely because I am an embittered single woman and thus won't be getting any of the candy or other obligatory tokens of the day let me just say two things:

• Though single, embittered would not be an adjective anyone would use to describe me!


• If I wanted to, I could gift myself with flowers, candy, etc. with more spontaneous and truly heartfelt presentation than most of the "gift" giving that will take place today!"

I mean come on, who could have thought this whole scenario was a good idea?

Let's step back and examine the situation...

Boy meets girl.

Boy likes girl.

Boy waits 2 days minimum before calling girl.

Girls smiles and picks up the phone all the while thinking, "You'll pay for those 2 days on V-day!"

Okay, so I'm being a bit melodramatic I admit but come on people how did the "romance-mongers" a.k.a. businesses trying to make a buck off of commercializing love ever pull such a coup over on us without us ever seeming to notice? To make matters worse, it ain't even all that creative...

Fellas, I'll give you all a little credit for trying to resist this machine, but with booty on the line, y'all fall in line pretty easily it seems. My sistas, we are another story entirely. I have seen it all in reaction to what a sista did or did not receive on this most manufactured of all the commercial holidays. From being pissed that the flowers were carnations (which mean friendship) instead of roses (which mean love; but only if they're red mind you--who comes up with this ish) to going postal because yet again the box contained an appliance instead of a diamond ring, I am astonished and appalled by the atrocious behavior I've seen my sistas display on this made-up "holiday". Even more alarming is the fact that rarely does a sista-friend step forward to breath sanity into an obviously insane situation as most of us seem to behave as if our brains have been deprived of oxygen when it comes to our response to a brother not jumping through the "hoops" affiliated with this day.

Let's face it, if it was really a holiday, I wouldn't have to work. If it was really all about love, it would have been scheduled to occur on weekends when lovers would be able to lay around with each other and ummm "meditate" on their mutual adoration. If it was really about love, the most honorable emotion we are capable of, the damned day would have some semblance of authenticity, realness, some basis in reality. But noooooooooooooooooo, it's just a manufactured, fake azz, excuse for brothas to get ganked, sistas to get stressed, and purveyors of the spoils of this war (i.e. jewelers, candy makers, florists) to clean-up!

It doesn't even matter whether one is single or part of a couple, nobody wins with this one. Official couples fight over what did/didn't, should/shoudn't have been purchased. Singles are ill-at-ease as they struggle to figure out if they are "serious" enough to be expected to fall in with the requirements of the day. Brothas get more broke while sistas get more stressed and in the midst of all the "romance" permeating the world, there is an undercurrent of "LAWD puleeze just let it be ovah!"

Now if you like this kind of forced festivity, far be it from me to try to dissuade you from it. I'm just saying from my point of view, I'll pass on V-day in favor of something truly from the heart, floating on the wings of fantasy, that shows up with no preamble sometime in the future...maybe a month from Wednesday and maybe even just because its Wednesday!

HAPPY FEBRUARY 14TH Y'ALL!!!

Uncharacteristic Second Post In A 24 Hour Period...

If this is a regular stop on your Blog Reading Express then you know that I don't typically post multiple times in any given 24 hour period. Today, I stumbled across the videos you will find embedded in this post on the VOX of RPM as I travelled my own Blog Reading Express. I was so moved by the intimate knowledge of pertinent issues demonstrated by the discussion in the first video and the passionately raw emotion and conviction evidenced in the second that I simply had to provide all of you the opportunity to experience what I did.

As this election year unfurls and with the advent of Black History Month I've wondered often about what the sacrifices of those who fought to gain the right to vote for all Americans means to those of my son's generation . The further we move away from that period in time, I find that I worry more and more that the significance of what has been secured for us might be lost. The videos you will find here provided some assurance that for reasons uniquely specific to the issues they face this generation like those before it will continue to fan the flame.

My previous entry, posted last night was about another experience I recently had revolving around the Democratic process. That experience meant a lot to me as well, so much so that I wanted to share it with you all so I hope you will take the time to check it out too. However, of the two, this one or that one, I feel compelled to give my endorsement to THIS ONE!

With so very much at stake, please I beg of you

DON'T SLEEP.

HER/HAIR PEACE

(Photo taken New Years Day 2008)

I am a woman who notices parallels.

I notice them whenever they occur and in the last year or so I have stumbled quite by accident on an amazing parallel in my life. It is the parallel between coming to terms with my hair and coming to terms with myself.

Coming of age as a black woman is much like coming of age for anyone -- wrought with twists and turns that with hindsight seem inconcievably trite but while traveling through appeared to be if not insurmountable, an awfully long row to hoe. Self-esteem, so essential to this coming of age proces is a tricky thing. Ultimately, it is controlled by self but until one realizes this fact, most allow others to control self resulting in self-esteem being anything but controlled by self. The end result is sadly obvious.

In the case of many black girls, much of their self-image is wrapped up in their hair. Whoopie Goldberg alluded to this fact in her amazing stand-up show many years ago when she created the character of the little black girl who desired "long, beautiful, golden, blonde hair". The hallmark of classic comedy is that it provides a mirror of the souls of us. Unfortunately there are no photos available to prove this, but I was born essentially bald headed and with a strand of grey hair. Two years later, I was joined by a sister who in contrast was born with "Shirley Temple" ringlets. As we grew up, my fine strands of hair never grew long or luxurious while hers on the other hand rivaled the length and thickness of Oprah's oft questioned locks. Looking back on pictures from my childhood, I often tease my mother that because I did not have long, luxurious hair like my sister's she didn't exert much energy keeping it neat and that when she did comb it, she put these giant, heavy barrettes on the stubby little ponytails to make them move when I moved. Yes, you guessed it, I was Whoopie's character who dreamed she would one day have long, beautiful, golden, blonde hair.

As the ritual goes, I went through the hair rites of passage of most black girls. Press and curls from about five years of age onward, thinned already fine hair. I loved these press and curls, because they made my hair smooth and now I could have curls and bangs. I was getting closer to realizing my dream. Thirteen brought my mother's approval for a perm which moved my cause even further along as I continued my quest for long, beautiful, golden, blonde hair. Somewhere in the middle of all this, things started to really get warped.

All of the hoops I was jumping through to realize my quest came with added responsibility. Press and curls dictated a maniacal avoidance of the summer sun and water that I loved dearly being a water-baby born under the sign of the fish. Perms required a major investment of time and money and a life spent at the mercy of beauticians who had little if any respect for my time or money. In my quest for long, beautiful, golden, blonde hair I had found that I was becoming someone other than who I wanted to be.

Going from bad to worse, enter BOYS! A girl and now a woman who has a craving for the brothas exclusively, I was willing to have my physical appearance somewhat dictated by what those beautiful black boys and later men, found attractive. Now this was not apparent on the surface as I was a dedicated tomboy and swimmer who projected the image of not giving a damn what anyone thought about her appearance. However, whenever I did change my hair it was never without the thought "What will the boys think? Will they think this is attractive?". There was never a time when I failed to "get the guy" that the thought that "If I had longer hair he would have found me attractive", didn't find its way through my skull in some format.

Next, enter corporate America. Trying to get in where I fit in came with problems of its own. Having gotten closer to fulfilling my quest of obtaining long, beautiful, golden, blonde hair by graduating from the perm to braided extentions left unraveled at the ends and subsequently able to be curled, I now wondered as I prepared to interview whether or not they would be considered acceptable in the lily-white corridors of corporate America. Adopting a better-safe-than-sorry attitude as I tried to secure a baller job that would ultimately deliver a key to the Vice President's bathroom, I removed my extensions and opted for a more commonplace and conservative version of my previous perms.

Worse however was not as bad as it could get as weaves exploded on the scene. "Wait a minute", I thought. "Here is the answer to all of my prayers. I can have long, beautiful, golden, blonde hair if I want. I can. I really, truly can." So I did just that; minus the blonde that is.

It was shortly after this phase began that something happened that changed me. I ended a relationship that had been on-again, off-again for the better part of fifteen years. I was just a few months shy of my 39th birthday. I finally began to see myself for myself for real, perhaps for what was the very first time ever; and I did not see the person I would have expected to see based on what I wanted for me.

I am a woman who is a lover of all things natural. I am at my best when gorging myself on all the texture life holds. (Bandana photos taken today, February 2, 2008)

I am casual, and in my natural state, quite low-maintenance to boot and above all else, I understand that life is short and therefore should be savored. I get that we are each given our own individual blessings and if we take the time to notice, understand, and appreciate them, they will give to us everything they were sent to bring.

Why then, I found myself asking was I going through all of these kniptions with my hair considering that in all the time I had been caring for and making decisions regarding my hair I had never once been satisfied with the result; nor did I ever feel it was representative of me or the image I choose to project. This was when I first saw the parallel between learning to be at peace with me and learning to be at peace with my hair. It was the same journey. A journey that required enough life experience to get to know who I am, what I am, who and what I want to be, and what it takes to realize all of those things.

My mother turned my hair over to heat and chemicals before I ever had the chance to become acquainted with it. I pretty much did the same with myself I realized now as I look back and recognize all of the times I tried to be what I thought others wanted me to be instead of choosing for myself who and what I was. I chose to continue that pattern until those processes controlled my locks and my life for the better of thirty-five years. Now, I have chosen to eliminate these elements from my haircare regimen and also from my life. It is ironic to see the amazing growth spurt my hair is undergoing now after all the years of hearing how my hair was too fine, thin, and fragile to grow long and strong like I desired. It is just as amazing to see the change in myself as I become more and more comfortable with and enamored of the woman I am becoming. Since allowing and encouraging my hair and myself to return to our natural states I have been introduced to textures I didn't know it had and freedoms I didn't know existed. At the same time, I have discovered truths and falsehoods about myself that I would have sworn before could not exist inside of me.

So at 42, soon to be 43 I am finally and at long last doing what I do for me. I sometimes hear sistas I respect make comments about the nappiness of my hair; their comments bead up and roll off me like rain off a freshly waxed car. My boss and corporate America are falling in line as I have left them no other choice; the decisions here are mine to make. As for those beautiful brothas I spoke of, many will and have decided to pass on me and the napps and you know what, that's alright with me as I'm quite sure in my own hard-won self-esteem that those particular brothas don't have the strength of character necessary to hang anyway. As India Arie sings so eloquently,

"I AM NOT MY HAIR".

However, now that I have attained HAIR PEACE, I am more me than I ever was before which means now I can allow my self to have HER PEACE.

INDIA ARIE AND I WISH YOU

HAIR PEACE TOO!

(So do you, whatever that may mean ;)

Click HERE for the poetic version of this journey which I have entered into a poetry contest on the amazing blog

"Bloggers' Delight...To Write"!!!

Ever Wish You Could Just Get USED UP?

The other day while driving to work I heard this song on the radio...



Since I was a little girl, I have had an affinity for this song. I can remember riding to school with my mother, brother, and sister and Bill Withers would come on the radio singing this song and I would sing along at the top of my lungs inside my head (as I have never been blessed with singing ablility my family members were not having me singing out loud outside my head in the car). Thinking back to those days, I don't believe I even knew what he was singing about, but I loved this song.

Well, as I drove myself to work the other day listening to this same song on the radio (and singing out loud outside my head ;) I can assure you that I knew EXACTLY what Mr. Withers was singing about and it was then that I knew that once again I had a problem...

My problem is that I miss sex...A lot!

Finding myself quite unexpectedly single yet again, I am living without sex, yet again. Not being a woman who sees casual sex as a viable option for herself for more reasons than I want to expound upon here in this post, this is simply the way things are. It is what it is. I accept that.

However...

Upon hearing Mr. Withers' soulful rendition of Use Me, I found myself fantasizing. Now don't get too excited because there will be no sharing of any good fantasies in this space..."get real people", my Mother reads this blog! What I was going to say was that I found myself wondering "What if I were a different kind of woman? What if I could get past my necessity to feel an emotional connection with a guy before feeling comfortable about sexual connections? What would it be like to be that woman?"

Right about now, the idea of "getting used up" is not such a bad thing; at least not on the surface! The idea of being more cavalier in my sexual attitudes on the other hand is driven by a deeper, underlying fear that I have felt more often than I care to acknowledge. I find myself wondering sometimes if this is an irrational fear or if it is one that other women share with me. When I consider the number of times since I first became sexually active that I have found myself for extended periods of time experiencing what I call "self-imposed celibacy" I sometimes become anxious. My anxiety revolves around the fear of one day finding that while living in one of these periods of self-imposed celibacy, my desire to have sex at all will have vanished or that I might one day find that what was optimistically expected to be just a little while has turned into the rest of my sexual lifetime. Maybe other women don't worry about this at all, but I am primarily a long-range planner and as such find it virtually impossible not to consider the long-term ramifications of most any action I take.

I know women to whom these very things have happened. I know women who are still what I consider to be young sexually speaking, who have lived without sex for decades, even scores of years during which they should have been at their sexual peak and enjoying great quantities (and if truly blessed) great quality of sex. During a time when they should be blissfully enjoying the joys of sex that come with the maturity and self-assurance that increasing age brings, these still sexually young, attractive women are seemingly standing on the sidelines and allowing their sexual primes to pass them by simply because they are not half of a committed coupledom. This seems to be especially true of many single, black women between the ages of 35 and 65. Take a moment and think about it...think of the girlfriends, co-workers, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and great-aunts in your life...I bet you too know at least one and probably more than one black woman who somehow found herself single between the ages of 35 to 45 years of age and never again having seriously connected romantically with a man remained single and without sex for the remainder of her life.

How the hell does that happen?! I don't know about you, but I don't hear of many men in this age group going for decades without sex and if on occasion I do hear of accounts where this has happened to a man, believe me you, it is an isolated occurrence. So I ask you, "Why is this such a common fact of life for so many black women?"

We all know there are many answers to this question, from the way most of us were raised, to our attempts to protect our reputations, to a fear of HIV/AIDS and other achronyms, no one has to outline for us the underlying causes of so many wasted sexual lifetimes; however, does anyone besides me wonder why this is allowed to be, and what we as black women can do differently to avoid the same fate as so many of our predecessors? Why don't our male contemporaries seem to be faced with this eventuality and how is it that they seem to be getting plenty...are they for some reason unbeknownst to me, not susceptible to the same sexual tragedies that we are? Can someone tell me how can I be down if this is the case? Or, are we black women drinking the proverbial kool-aid and in actuality brothers aren't getting any more sex than we are? Wouldn't that be terrible...finding out that NONE of us are getting any?

I don't know the answers, and most of these questions are rhetorical at best. There are no easy answers, but from where I stand as a soon to be 43 year old, single, black woman who is not getting any I will say this much...

"I will not go softly into that good night!"

I will rage against the dying of the light! I intend to do whatever is in my powers to find that special guy with whom I can establish the kind of connection I require to comfortably, willingly, and enthusiastically enter once again into a sexual relationship with total abandonment. I will find him by using

ANY MEANS NECESSARY

from having my Grandma do the quintessential "fix-up" to trying my luck on the internet. Whatever I have to do, I do not intend to "wake up" one day 10, 20, or 30 years from now on the brink of my 53rd, 63rd, or 73rd birthday and realize that since my "self-imposed celibacy" began I have not had sex for more years than the number of years I was having it before said self-imposed celibacy began. I am an attractive, desirable, intelligent, liberated, black woman who happily admits that she loves, LOVES, LOVES sex; and as such, I say to the world right here, right now

I will not quit until I find my someone special and the two of us can keep on using each other until ...

somebody gets used up!

Of course I mean that in the best possible way ;-)

Tell 'em what I'm talkin' bout D'angelo!

Overcoming The Obama Dilemma

Once, a couple years ago or so I wrote a post about the Academy Awards show. The points I made in that particular post coincided with the opinions of one of the bloggers whose writing I respect the most and when he read what I had written, he stated as much in my comments. On Friday last, I went to That Johnson Boy's blog and found there the post you are about to read here. With That Johnson Boy's express written permission I have shamelessly stolen the post in it's entirety including pictures right off his blog and posted it here! The points That Johnson Boy made in this post coincided with the feelings and opinions of this blogger so much so that as the infamous "they" always say,

If it ain't broke, why fix it...or write it for that matter :)

So for all of you "closet Obama supporters" who are scraping the bottoms of barrels trying to convince yourselves that in not voting for Mr. Obama as the next president of these United States of America you are doing him a favor because:

1. it is not his time


2. he doesn't have enough experience, or


3. you believe you are helping to keep him out of harm's way,

keep reading...the answer to your dilemma lies herein.

"I'm Asking You To Believe."
Not just in my ability to bring about change in Washington...
I'm asking you to believe in yours."

-Presidential Candidate Barack Obama

"Not yet, Mr. Obama... not yet."
Those were my thoughts about Mr. Obama's Presidential aspirations. I met Mr. Obama a few years earlier at a Chicago fundraiser for his first Senate bid. I found him and his wife refreshing and most of all, the real thing. I've worked in the political arena on both the national and local level. Refreshing is a rare commodity. When Mr. Obama announced his Presidential bid, I didn't hesitate to point my mouse to http://www.barackobama.com/ to make my campaign contribution. In the recesses of my mind, those words continued to resonate... "not yet, Mr. Obama... not yet."

And then came Iowa. I vacationed in Iowa immediately after first meeting Mr. Obama. There were cornfields aplenty and several really nice art galleries. But the talk of the town was all about Obama. Senate candidate Obama had blazed a trailed thru Golena, Iowa a week earlier and folks were still on fire! They were actually giddy over Mr. Obama (as in Ala-BAMA). So, I wasn't shocked when he won the Iowa Presidential caucus. However, I was shocked that my silent mantra was still playing out in my head... "Not yet, Mr. Obama... not yet." My apprehension was logical to me, even if steeped in a kind of ethnic protectionism. Why would anyone want to face these facts:

Fact: The next President of the United States of America will inherit a mess of historic proportions. From the economy to foreign policy, the President-elect will be knee deep in mess. I'm talking the kind of mess that invokes memories of Cedric The Entertainers' Presidential Stress Response of "just tell 'em I ain't home."

Fact: By all indicators we are already immersed in a recession. Then again, who needs an indicator. How's your raise? Your mortgage? Your credit card debt? Your tax bill? Are you oversleeping or can't quite sleep through the night?

Fact: There is no quick fix to the war. The only silver lining? Buy some Halliburton stock. Then again, you might do well to just say no to this blood money.

These facts, coupled with America's pattern of assassinating African-American leaders, form the basis for my Obama dilemma. Why would I want my candidate to inherit this mess? Six months into the new Presidency, the American public will forget who created the mess. I honestly don't want the Nation's first African-American President to be crushed under the weight of the Bush administration. I acknowledge and accept that African-Americans must often do more with less, and have historically made the best of bad situations. But Damn! This is about as bad as it gets. So you see, this cannot be your time, Mr. Obama. I felt strongly about my position - that is - until I heard your Iowa victory speech...

"They said this day would never come..."

Now that alone was enough to capture my full attention. But his message was bigger than the civil rights movement. He then followed with...

"This is the day America remembered what it means to HOPE."

On that victorious evening in Iowa, Barack Obama stopped being too young or too inexperienced. His youthful outlook and lack of time inside the political machine will be invaluable assets. I vowed that I would combat any fears about his safety with prayer. Most of all, my support wouldn't be based simply on the color of his skin. He's my next President because he is the best candidate for the journey that lies ahead. As my good friend, Dr. Dickerson, would say "he came into this world fully prepared for this journey."

In the words of the late Martin L. King, Jr., "there are some difficult days ahead." Indeed America must reap the bitter harvest sown from the Bush administration's seeds of arrogance and blatant disregard for humanity. The bible teaches us that in everything there is a season. I believe the 2008 Presidential election challenges us to pick the candidate best suited for the coming season.

There is a time for a politician. There is a time for a war hero. There is a time for a diplomat and a time for a shrewd tactician. But, today... today is not that season.

This is the season of Hope. This is the season of change. We need a leader who can inspire the light within us, even as the foreboding shadows close in all around us. This is the season that they said would never come. I'll never understand why the naysayers doubted its arrival. Then again, the messenger was just some wet behind the ears, 34-year old minister talkin' bout "I Have a Dream." What would he know... right? Right!

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day from That Johnson Boy!

Why I LOVE, Love, love BLOGGING!

Today, while strolling down Ladylee's street, I bumped into an old friend! I can't even tell you how happy I was to see her again; and though I've never actually met her in person nor have I ever actually heard her speaking voice, believe me when I say I could not have been more happy to see her there if we had grown up right next door to each other! Bumping into Chele over on Ladylee's street like that made me realize how much I LOVE, Love, love blogging and what it brings to my life.

Over at Ladylee's, in the last week I have empathized with her over the relationship that she and her father have failed to enjoy to this point in their lives, learned a lil' sumthin' sumthin' about being more dedicated to my writing endeavors, and just had a plain old good time with her and her peeps!

I went from Ladylee's place over to the new space Chele now occupies. There I found that I could indeed hear her TRUE VOICE once again and I realized with glee that the more things stay the same the more they seem to change and I was sooooooooooooo glad.

After I left Chele's, I decided to stop by Diva's and found her there loving her some Scribe as always! The Diva has decided to accept a very worthwhile challenge, one that challenges her to encourage her husband every day and to pray for him with his knowledge every single day. "What a worthwhile and noble thing to do!", is what I found myself thinking. I was impressed if not surprised knowing how very much the Diva and Scribe love each other and cherish their marriage. Not married myself nor involved in a serious relationship currently, I quickly copied the link to this page on her blog to send to my BFF in the hopes that she would choose to follow the Diva's lead and pray for her own husband.

Traveling by blog helps me to get a more clear picture of what good looks like when it comes to really significant other material. From the stories the Diva shares about Scribe to the amazing discovery that REAL MEN DO TALK AND THEY CAN WRITE (will wonders never cease) that hanging out with brothers like That Johnson Boy, Luke Cage, and James Manning elucidated, I believe that I have been more capably equipped to choose better for myself in the future.

Stopping by the ATL over the last couple of days, I found Fergie (whose smile was a gift from the beautiful pair of eyes in the collage above) and Nikki at the Infinite Ink (hands down the best photographer around....check out her gallery) both slightly disgruntled over differing issues. Fergie took issue as do I with this whole idea of cloned animals being used to perpetuate the food supply in America with no mandates for identifying the food products as having been derived from cloned animals. Nikki on the other hand was commenting on the increasing practice of overlaying Dr. Martin Luther King's speeches (and our heritage) over popular music a practice which in my opinion in some situations diminishes the importance of these speeches and desensitizes many to Dr. King's tremendous contributions to society.

From the ATL I went to Charlotte for some Serenity and then took a quick jaunt up to see Safa where tranquility and peace always await me.

In their own unique way, each of the bloggers or their representatives pictured above as well as scores of others who have not been displayed or mentioned here today broaden my horizons over and beyond any geography I would ever be able to travel even if someday I were to win the POWERBALL. From each of the bloggers I read, I find I take away something of value. In some cases it is a thought I never had before, an idea I might never have gotten around to conceptualizing, or a joke that brings a smile to my face I might otherwise have missed experiencing. In other cases, I have been helped to face difficult situations in my own life, I have been given the insight to better understand myself and others, and I have been given the gift of helping someone else to better understand themselves. In all cases, I feel like after a very short while passes with me making regular visits, I am received like I am a long-lost and cherished relative who is happily being welcomed home again! That my friends is love and as most of you know and Luther Vandross and Gregory Hines sang (bless their dear departed hearts),

There's Nothing Better Than Love!

So, this post is a tribute to all of you bloggers who have contributed to my life's happiness in ways most of you will never truly know. I want you ALL to know whether you are mentioned by name or not and whether or not there was an available image of you I could steal from your blog (ROSE and DP!) or not, you are all family to me. I will be forever indebted to each and every one of you for all that you have brought to my life and all that you continue to bring each day. By some miracle, you all always seem to be here blogging away about whatever it is I need to read, learn, know....just when I need to read, learn, or know it....

AND THAT IS WHY I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE BLOGGING!