The Future Belongs to Those Who Believe in the Beauty Of Their Dreams...

Mama May Have

God bless the child thats got its own...
Running a comb through my hair
I look up and she is solo there
Just my mother, with her longing look and her blank stare
Out the window to where life is moving and shes stuck, feeling trapped in here.
See Ive always known
Her heart loves me so but her head is elsewhere. She deserves to be she,
but shes always mommy to me, daddy too to unrelenting degree -
herself secondary and in return, I am allowed to be free.
Unhinged to the swinging door of single breeding. The cycle is vicious -
Ive learned from her disposition.
Bills on the brain, with{out} a way to maintain - shes solo, you know so
The world is on her shoulders yet shes always trying to keep in the game...
Life is playing {un}fair, but whos to referee?
Papa may have.... his freedom, but he never sees me
Has no idea where I be - lost or alive, {un}loved or treated kind. Hes fucked and out of luck;
his trivial influence to undermine. Im a product completely of her design. Independent.
This cycle of circles, intertwined between haste, exhausting my mother
but for me she has always stayed.
Blessed for me that shes got her own - and from her I have my own.
A women with no silver spoon but here I am, the silver lining.
Everything that she is, I am , and I have it all.
Sometimes, I just have to remember, mama may have
but from her, I have it all.

Column: Im not waiting for Mr. Right- more like Mr. Realistic

Back in 2009, being single was a mandatory breath of fresh air. I had recently broken up with (or he broke up with me – depending on who you ask) my live-in boyfriend of a year and a half. The same boyfriend whom, at the time, I lucidly saw myself marrying, baby mama-ing and complacently spending the rest of our amazing days together. However I was on the verge of 21, he already encroaching 26, and for one reason or another, the clear picture of my domestic future got beer-goggles once I stepped into the ‘adult’ world of legality. Everything was so exciting and social…we all know how fun life can be once laced with the hypnotic allures of alcohol and freedom. Read: I liked to go out, he liked me home; we broke up.

Since that wonderful learning experience, I have dated/encountered an interesting myriad of boys, men and assholes alike to come to a very real and sound conclusion – there is NO Mr. Right. Perhaps several Mr. Right-nows, Mr. Right-ons, certainly a dash of Mr. He-can-get-me-Right and yes, a fair share of Mr. Wrong’s; but alas, no for sure Mr. Right. Why is that? Simply put, no one is perfect, No one man, woman, anyone will be your ‘everything’, all the time, forever. To be frank, Im not sure if I would want a man like that – seems too good to be true and that’s because it is.
What I have come to realize, however, is that there are Mr. Realistic: men who are not perfect, but encompass several (if not many) traits, qualities or preferences you may like, and more importantly, can deal with dating. And while I am still young, occasionally reaching for those rose-colored beer-goggles to make what isn’t realistic at least convenient and suited for the moment, I can say that what I wish for versus what I cant live without in a person are becoming clearer than they have ever been.

A guy who has the basics

· Like your favorite recipe for chocolate chip cookies, or your moms amazing and irresistible lasagna, a good man like a good meal needs the basics. I call them basics because really, this is where it should all start. While every woman is different, my basics are pretty standard and non-negotiationable: respectful, honest, a sense of personal morals and justice, kind, humble, friendly, and able to be around others without turning into someone else. The last one may not seem so basic, but it has become a necessary staple to have with men I even care to get to know past, “Hi may name is”. Don’t be an asshole, a douche, a womanizing man whore or a liar who can’t even remember his own real name. I will call you out, leave you for ‘dumped’ and never ever look back.

A guy whos both fun, responsible, silly, intense, outgoing but shy…

· Im admittedly full of contradictions and to some degree, I feel a lot of people are as well. Whether they are as readily to admit it as I am is an entirely other story. Regardless, I want someone who doesn’t necessarily ‘fit’ into a type; your not this and your not that. I consider myself boundless – Mr. Realitstic should be too.

A guy who makes me laugh and can laugh with me

· This is a combo request: I thoroughly love to laugh and find so many things either hysterically funny or tragically amusing. Either way there is laughter. I don’t need you to make a production or stand-up routine out of everything, but having an innate sense of humor is key. I like to think of myself as someone who doesn’t take things too seriously, especially when dating someone, and needs a like-minded mate to be on that same page with me. Really, it’s a wonderful page to be on.

A guy who wants to teach me

· As an undercover(s) nerd, I enjoy learning about anything and everything. Im no child prodigy, but I find new facts, information and ideas tantalizing and dare I say it, mad sexy. Teach me something new…Im intrigued. Introduce me to your passion…Im interested. Include me in some of your favorite diversions…Im yours.

A guy who has goals to execute

· This is a bit of a biggie. While I don’t expect you to rule the free world a la Obama, be the next Jay-Zoutselling Madison Square Garden, or even create what would become the ‘computer’ like Bill Gates, I do need you to have a dream. And not only a dream, but a means and plan on how to capture that dream and make it reality. Whether you want to help make the world a greener place (pun possibly intended) or simply be a tycoon, just do it. I, like so many other women, admire the steadfast nature so many men have, but so many men tend to let slip in between their grinding fingers. Women want to help you be the best and most prosperous you; let us. Just promise you’ll be more than a lost dreamer…

A guy who lets me be me…

· When in a relationship, I am the epitome of ‘girlfriend’. Im all about ‘us’ and what ‘we’ can do/see/eat/go/try together. Its in my female nature to want to dote on someone else, and when in a relationship, that someone becomes him. Yet, even in that picturesque mode, it is in my human nature to need to simply be me sometimes. Do things solo, make mistakes despite your warned attempts, engage in new friendships beyond ‘us’ and continually learn about me. Mr. Realistic would be understanding of this need; not feeling ignored or unloved, just realizing this is a ‘Christine’ thing. Equally, he would need time for him and I would insist on it. Its all about space and boundaries.

A guy who has a similar 5, 10, 15 year plans as I do

· I say, “as I do” in jest, since Im not exactly referencing true plans to say “I do”. Beyond simply getting married one day, and yes, settling down one day, I am more so inclined to talk about the events in-between the seminal ones: where we see ourselves living, perhaps traveling, a job, skill, or trade you may be inclined to explore. All the things people end up doing, but may not be aware of the want to do so. In getting to know more about me, I have become aware of the nomadic path I see my future taking and I am very comfortable with having several address, seeing the world from the back of a bus, plane, or train and all the while writing about life, love and this sought after pursuit of happiness. My Mr. Realistic should probably have some of these fantasies as well. Marriage, babies, and picket fences will be par for the course…the latter end of the course.

These things will change, evolve, and improve as will I. But for now, Mr. Realistic...heres what's required.

Vice

If you listen closely, you can hear them. Trying. Seeping through my walls, under my door, in between my window panes...crawling into my world from right beyond the next.

Them - these - infinite cravings entice me, moaning in the night well into day; well into a deep and desperate unrest. The yearns lull me at times - a habitual lullaby - its rhythmic beating, persistent against so many morals and ethics; despite so many attempts to extinguish its whispers. It cries louder and louder, hungered by the tasty tidbits of the city:
Lights, camera, action....enter, addiction. Onto stage left. Creeping to center stage. Cue the junkies. Them - they - want to be my new friend.

Keep on. Cant you tell its from a place so near...
glamorous ideas of grandeur: pop me, snort me, smoke me, invite me via vein if it means I'm yours. The taunting is never lost and all too readily found, invading my space and calling my name. It knows me by name, by face and try as I may, my head leans toward the the lures at times.
Here, here, I can supply your curiosity's whims if you'd only let me in...
The nights are lonely and any company is sometimes welcome. Even if it may become a monkey on my back.

Nights darkness can cover the illicit affairs. Secret procedures and hazed recoveries. Enjoy and repeat Im told. Sounds like so many played out movies. Like so many played out stars. But its night and any and every star can shine brightly if exposed to the right concoctions. Including me. What once swallowed me into sleep with its breathy temptations now keeps me awake thinking and hints at the endless bounty awaiting me - should I just let them in. Crawling from the world right beyond the next, should I just let them in.

Only hours before the sun kissed dawn and Im alone left to wonder. How bright do I want to shine... Should I just let them in?

Column: The Black Burden

While watching my nightly indulgence of lighthearted sitcoms on a well-known black network, I was shocked to find myself bombarded with numerous airings of a ridiculous and racist commercial that I couldn’t believe was actually airing; on this station, countless times. It began with your typical surge of public opinion after the narrator asks, “ What is the #1 cause of death of African Americans?” People naturally stated the obvious leaders - HIV/AIDS, gang relations, murder, cancer, and others causes sharing the similar fatal outcome. I, along with those featured, were curious to find out this mystery answer, thinking 'Im black, the people on the ad are black, this is a black network – how educational and opportune of them to inform their viewers of this assumed ‘killer’ on the loose and how I can now be aware and possibly avoid it', right? If only it were that simple.
This “cause of death” – as inaccurately phrased in my opinion – was revealed to be abortions. In fact, they state that black abortions, or abortions performed on black women, make up 35% of all abortions and because of such, has reduced the black population by over 25% since 1973. Bluntly put, “a black baby” – ‘baby’ being an emotional word since no abortion is ever performed on an existing baby – “is three times more likely to be aborted than a white baby”. I will be the first to say that this news is overwhelming. It saddens me, as the double-minority black female they are targeting to hear such facts. It is truly a problematic situation of despair and an extreme lack of preparation or planning that even allows for disheartening statistics like these. And while I have all the sympathy in the world for women, of any color, who have come to this life-altering decision and feel the need to go through with an abortion, I in no way excuse or appreciate this propagandized commercial.
Fueled by blackdignity.com, the ad directly reflects abortion within the black community as not having pride or dignity for our race, and irresponsibly ‘causing’ a sort of genocide within ourselves. The commercial proceeds to show the stunned faces of young black people, like myself and the rest of their targeted fertile and youthful audience watching, hearing the reality that because of abortions, the black community is diminishing, all while loosing our distinction and character. Translation? Having an abortion is wrong. Why? Not wrong because God says so, or because it’s a huge decision that no one should really have to make, not even because of the possible health and emotional trauma one may have. No, its wrong because it’s causing black deaths of a collection of cells that scientifically and biologically, have yet to form anything, let alone an actual child. Moreover, a black child. But I digress…
I feel the strongest point this commercial - fear tactic - lacks in its entire thirty-two seconds of airtime is that truly, in reality, a lack of education to young people, especially women, along with a culture built around glamourous and unsafe sex is the root in this swell of terminations. Often people illustrate the term abortion with literally killing a child and that is far from the case. Abortion, by definition, is a procedure to end pregnancy, yes, but at a safe and humane stage of cell mutation when a fertilized egg is still an embryo. As well, people don’t end pregnancies for no reason, regardless of race and ethnicity; 100% of the time the situation, whatever it may be, is not conducive to bringing a child into the world. Supporting it, loving it and nourishing a soul both financially and emotionally, as society demands are not within capacity for so many people. Reluctantly, one cant hash over the state of abortions now, without reeling where abortions have been. Whether you are pro-life or pro-choice, it is hard to deny the menacing history self-imposed misbirths have been for women, let alone black women, and the humane progress that has been made. We have come from literally poisoning ourselves in hopes of ridding an unwanted fetus, to physically using rusted wire coat hangers to end a shameful pregnancy. Yet in 2011, there is still the humiliation and an unspoken social shun of terminating a pregnancy and because of such, women turn to disastrous methods- including back- alley abortions. All of this is reality, but you didn't see any of this the half-minute guilt trip. Instead, the commercial continued the cycle of disgrace that comes along with abortions and the decision to have one, instead of providing a resource for real dignity, real pride, real self-respect: education. Education is the key to ‘save’ the black culture from its supposed genocide due to abortions. Informing young people about the risks and reprocutions of sex - even if some think its a dead horse issue. With a 3:1 ratio of black abortion, the topic is far from over-discussed. Still no one is doing so – condoms are seen as accessories not necessities, birth control is expensive and not readily available. Ironically, the culture trying to be saved is the same culture that praises rims over responsibility, hood rich instead of soundly wealthy; dough boys instead of doctorates and diplomas. Our deficit in education is the true culprit for the 35% of women who feel they have no choice, know no better, and are forced to stand in the statistical line of women who are branded as being guilty of not only aborted 'babies', but hopes and dreams. That, Im sorry to say, is the true black indignity.

A memorable meet

Arrogance is self inflicted ignorance, not confidence as always referenced. You wear it so well, its weird that you actually got caught up in its spell; its confusion, its desire, its facade. 15 minutes of fame because your submerged in lifes game...until they forget your name when the play doesnt go the winning way. What can I say...you walk the walk and talk the talk but your pride doesnt feed on this scene like it used to...Has no one told you, your better that that? ...I would have assured you.
I must admitt, you do this thing with your cheeks and your grin that might have made me lead to sin had I not remembered what they say and certainly where you've been. Your all too legendary with the female kin. I almost gave in... you almost came down. The high horse you sit atop floating on clouds. The praises they throw that loft you up. I cant lift you that high so here we are stuck. A middle ground unmet and Im disheartened and your stuck up. Dont look now, but I thought the real you was trying to come out. Its sweet and longing, sincere with a drip of earnest. Boy are you sexy when you peek through the spotlight and stand on your own. Cuz I dont believe in shooting stars - fade away dreams or fly by night boys. Empty promises and little kid toys. Then again, you love the flashing lights and how can 1 girl compete with that?

5 a.m on Saturn

Sunrise, stunned eyes
in the dawn
Its 5 am and Im atop a hill on Saturn drive
Not yet blinded by the sunshine, but peering through the cloaked blinds
Awake from thin lines - alas, reality lies on the other side
Open the door, or be rewarded with a consolation prize
Riddle me this: which door leads to the rest of my life?
Surronded by options but sometimes, I still dont know
Truth is, success and acceptance may actually beget
What I could come to inevitably regret
Question being, should I risk it and go! or retreat, never actually having lept...
I dont know yet
The signs all point to change but thats the part Im anxious to accept.
Opportunity curiously ajar, taunting; truly unopened unless pressed.
Push
Push
Im pushing - it seems heavier than originally guessed.

So Im here, eyes wide open but hiding in my daze
Thin lines making me think past today
How will I acheive what I pray will go my way?
Convince strangers Im all that I say...and more
A student of life and craving to know whats in store.
Teach me please, Im ready to explore
So much to ask, so much to say. I really just need a moment to figure out a way...
Im bored with wishing, dreaming and such
Im ready to rest my hopes, roll up my sleeves and get ready to push
Push
Push for what i want
Im pushing but that may not be enough.
One chance to write my way in...bic in my right hand, ready to pen
Cant change the future without knowing where you've been.

Heres an 'X' to emboss where id like the rest of my life to begin

A new chapter in a book thats yet to be fully written