Don't say you will notice me

When we know you won't.

Let me see who I am really am

To you.

Guess who, just stopped by

To see you?

Who?

Yesterday I went by to see her,

And she wasn't interested in speaking with me

I'm babbling again to you

WHO?

YOU!

Please stop yelling inside here,

They're going to kick us out

OF WHAT?

This place, my space, the inside of here.

WHERE? HERE!

I am inside me, and have no clue

CLUE OF WHAT?

YOU!

Stop interrupting

I'm trying to tell you something

WHAT?

Who are you?

That's a question, not an answer,

Never said I was telling you anything.

Guess what?

I have no clue who I am.

Who we are.

I'm nervous

I can't see myself.

In a sea of whiners

Gasping for air

lungs heavy with this strange liquid.

Tears are pouring out

and filling up my insides.

Waves created from a weakness

made of salty, clear failure

please stop crying

whining

sobbing

your weakness is killing me.

This whiny stage must stop.

Your suppose to be a man.

Your suppose to be a woman.

Your suppose to be an adult.

GROW UP!

SHOW UP!

But if your going to give up,

do it on your own time

not mine.

Measure my success

How do we measure our success? And what does it matter if I am not successful? Who determines what my success is?

I have been plagued by this notion of "SUCCESS" all day. I do freelance work for a custom home builder, and today I was sitting next to someone that I consider successful. He is a well to do BLACK man, running his own company, with his own ideas, and it's not only working... it's up and running. I started to think about how I could be like him. How could I be successful? What had I done wrong before, that I ended up just average. Huh, Average... that word has always scared me. It makes my heart race every time I say it. But I have to face the facts, that may just be me.

I have own, ran, and managed more companies than I care to admit. In 2005, I started a business doing what I thought would be lucrative, and fun. I started out with $1500, and ended up with $30,000 by 2yrs end. I don't have a dime of it now. I left that business to try another one, and another one, and so on and so on. Now I'm here, kicking on the door to 30, & still haven't found my groove of success. Where do you stand in line and get this success stamp? I want one! I want to start something that grows beyond me, that supports my daughter, that is still feeding people when my body has left this space. I do not want to be rich, I just want enough. Enough that I can take a vacation when it is due, pay my many bills on time, own my home out right, and send my daughter to the best schools. I want what so many people seem to have... SUCCESS.

Am I asking for to much?

Where does the race stop? When will I realize that I am who I am. A yoga teaching - practicing, dancer who loves to write poetry with a glass of wine, listening to my daughters far out tales about spongebob at her school, laying next to my husband while he junks up the bedroom with his art supplies. I am who I am. I guess I just measured my own success.

My Time…

This entry comes with a small bit of irritation. Why don't other people consider my time? I ALWAYS consider other peoples time, always. My daughter, she needs play time with me. So every day after picking her up from school, we do something that she wants to do, whether it's playing in a park, feeding hungry city ducks, eating at a barely cleaned table at McDonalds, or taking her to see her daddy. My husband he gets the QT… you know that sexy chick stuff. He wants a living sex doll that strokes he's ego, wears him out in the bedroom, and listens to him talk about the idiots he works with. My mother gets time with my daughter; her Nana. I take her over there at least once a week, so that she can bug the crap out of her. My sister gets her telephone calls all week long. I listen to her create stuff in her head, and still stay real positive when usually she sounds like a crazy person. My yoga students get the best of my spiritual side. I make sure they feel the complete connection to the spirit and soul. Make sure their bodies are full of goodness when they leave me. But no matter what time I give to the world, my family, my friends, strangers, I don't get the same. My time is not considered. I am a person. Yes, a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a teacher, but I am a person first! I deserve my time to be equaled the same as everyone else's. How would you feel if everything you did, didn't count? That everything you gave never came back? Don't get me wrong, I do not do to get things back. I LOVE teaching yoga… it has made me a better person. I love playing with my daughter; she is the brightest person I have ever known. I love my life!!! But I do not love not having my time. It is mines. I need it. I want it. I deserve it.

Or am I asking for too much?

Is it really Fear?

Why do humans have this fear to commit? Every one of us, have something we just cannot commit too. Whether it is eating right, exercise routines, boyfriends, girlfriends, wives, husbands, children, pets, careers, saving, stop drinking, and whatever else your short comings may be. I started to really think about this fear of commitment, and I think I have an answer.

We are not suppose to be tied to any and everything, because then we would grow from what we cannot do. Yes, that's right NOT DO! Think about all the stuff you can not commit to, and how it makes you better at something else. If you fail at one thing you usually excel in another. People that are good at math or terrible at english, why because they actually committed to being good at math, not english. Human beings are totally incapable of committing to everything, it would make us used up, and tired of life. We all need something to forget about, something that someone else is going to do better. When I think of commitment other words that pop up are: Promise, Obligation, Faithfulness, & Loyalty. How can I, one person give all of that to everything? I can't! There is no way that I can offer all of that to my daily surroundings and still be enough to continue for tomorrow. So with all that said, I understand if you, I, we, can not commit to everything that we'd like to or not like too. Figure out what matters the most to you and give that your all, and forget about the rest of it.

The ART of the MALE PERIOD

Yes! That's right the male period. Oh please, if you don't think that a man has a period. Okay sure he may not bleed, have cramps, or gain 11lbs a month, but his mood swings are real! REAL! He has the ugly face on hardcore. He gives everyone and everything the girt. He barely listens to you talk, because the stick in his ass is cutting him deep. He's bleeding on the inside. See, woman have this thing every month... THE PERIOD! She treats us like shit, but we bare it every month... sometimes waiting on her. But a man, he can barely handle a pinch of change.

Why are men so funky? They have the worst mood swings and we are suppose to just deal with it. Eat it with a smile. Well, I'm taking a stand. I don't give a dogs butt that you have a funky ass attitude. You can sleep with that feeling, let her choke you silly, drain your positive emotions, and feed her til she's full of your ugliness. And then when you off your MALE PERIOD, we can hang.

Till then go away!

My paperback best friend

I have had a paperback best friend for years... 14 to be exact. For as long as I can remember I have had some type of diary, journal, notebook something to tell my life's madness too. When I got married my husband hated her. I know he was jealous of her. She knows me better than I know myself, and I put her on the sideline to protect my relationship with him, but to save her. She has heard everything I have tired to forget, to the shit that will never leave my daily thoughts. Recently I have been avoiding her. I'm afraid to tell her that I have been writing inside someone else. That someone else has been doing what she's done so well for the past 14yrs.

Is it wrong to write everything you do down? To have a friend that you love that never talks back, never lies, never puts you down, or make you feel bad for the nasty shit you just did. My paperback best friend is stronger than I'll ever be. She takes all the shit I give her, and swallows it with a smile. Yelling back at me, "My Swell Life." This is my apology to her...
Paperback best friend, you have always been my right hand man. You will always be the person that could take me down with swift cut to the throat, but I am growing and I'm not afraid to let some of my thoughts be heard out loud. Please forgive me.

Are we still cool?

As I watch my husband roll the beauty grown from our lovely earth... I found myself drawn to write about LOVE!

Love seems to make most people silly about what is entitled with its presence. I have been married for four years, 6mths, and a few hours, days, seconds give or take, and I have been thru just about everything you can think of (buying homes, serious illness, deaths, births, failures, friends, enemies, fights, makeups, breakups, etc) and still I truly have no firm idea what LOVE actually will pan out to be.

However I do know that most people are FUCKING STUPID about what they think love is going to give them. LOVE takes work!!!!!! PERIOD!!!!!!!!!!!! If you think that some nigga is going to come and sweep you off your feet, never worry about him stepping out, still have the best body after 8 kids, never being late on a bill, no fights because we always agree, family vacations, non selfish, and he never forgets a birth day, and/or anniversary you got another thing coming. SLAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love takes work! You need to be willing to drag your feet thru the mud, with burns on your ankles, and still be willing to look your partner in the eye, and say "Yes they are worth it." Love is willing to work with the bad, and completely embrace the good. Loving your partner when it hurts, because that feeling feels good. Love will reward you every time, but only if your in it. Deep in it. Love don't play games!!!! That silly shit of the chase... He calls me, I don't call him. I fuck him, but then he FUCKS me, is a waste of time. You don't LOOK for love, she'll find you! That's it. That's all.

Can you pass the tissue?

How does anyone get anything done with a nasty nose? I mean really. This is just getting on my nervous now. I have had this same cold for the past 5 days. Not to mention that I am doing 3 jobs, taking care of my two yr old, and trying to stay full of that positive glow. But at this very minute I could crawl under a rock and just die. My eyes are buring, my head is doing the drive me crazy dance, and my teeth even hurt.

Please save me fresh air! Blow through my nose freely. Give me back the ability to go out the house without a pack of tissue and a nose that can stop traffic, and skin that is now peeling. Oh and by the way, can you pass me the tissue?

Questions...

I found myself between hell and heaven all the time! At this very minute I am so yucked out by my partner. This nigga actually had the balls to say... "I don't care about him." Yes, but after saying that I am basically a drunk. This all came just 1 hour after cleaning his parents bedroom from the mountain of mass (I gave away 16 30gallon bags of stuff away) that covered there existence. Also a day after going to a strip club with him, (females only of course) where I watched him get a full face show of some strippers pussy, and paying for a private lap dance for him. Not to mention that I cook food, I rarely eat... for him, bring him lunch at work... just to let him know that I'm thinking about him,wash, clean, encourage, support, sponsor, and fuck on a daily basis... AND I DON'T CARE! Last nite at this same time I was questioning myself about being a good wife, mother, person. Am I all of those, none of the above, rarely? I can't answer that question because apparently, I'm not the person I think I am. I use to be super confident, self assured, a hottie, and just fucking crazy. And now, most of the time I have no clue what the fuck is going on. The only time I'm really connected is doing yoga, or laying on the couch with my hubbie while he rubs my booty. I am really starting to believe that there isn't any happiness in a relationship. Everyday its something new to fight about, or someone new that you need to watch, or this continuous need to upgrade yourself. I am so tired of trying to please!!! I do LOVE to drink wine. It's my thing. It makes me relax when I need too. I use to like partying just because I really like to be loud, listening to the music blast in your ears, drinks at the yell of a bartender, and the men. Oh the men. They are funny to watch and you learn so much from somebody you know don't have a shot in hell. Why can't I be enough? Enough woman? Sexy enough? Freaky enough? Smart enough? Enough to keep my husband happy? A good enough mother? Enough to make people feel touch by my presence? I am fucking tired of questions! I am through trying to answer them. I will not let this destroy me. I wonder when I see people are they faking like me? Does their lives slap them in the face when they least suspect it? Freedom looks great. And I am on my way there. Free from questions. I'll let you know how it goes.