Dorothy was on to something

There really is no place like home.

I've always considered myself somewhat of a rolling stone.  While most of my family and friends have lived in the same state all their lives and rarely leave it, I left home at the ripe old age of 17 and began a journey of not living in the same state for more than a year or two that has lasted nearly a decade now (damn, I'm getting old). 

I spent summers traveling to different countries, and then traveling all throughout those countries; I picked up my whole life and moved from one coast to the other on a whim. I pride myself on being a "road warrior", having spent the night in over 40 states, and never needing even a day's notice to be ready for a weekend adventure to another timezone.  I even joined the military with the (completely idealistic) notion that traveling and relocating would be part of my contractual obligation.  Traveling is the only passtime I can ever think of when I fill out a questionnaire that asks "What are your hobbies?"  Because, sadly, I do nothing else exciting or fulfilling with my life.

And while I always came home after a month or three away, I always thought the only thing I was missing was my family (and friends). So three years ago, when my parents (and nephew) relocated to Dallas from Richmond, I started to consider "home", their new house.

After all, home is where the heart is, right? And I know my heart belongs to a little boy in a wheelchair, so when I thought I was feeling "homesick", I figured I was just missing him.

But recently, it occured to me that the feeling I had been experiencing all that time wasn't homesickness at all.  I was feeling "whatever the noun is for really missing someone who's not at home".  They really need to make a good noun for that.  Homesickness. is what I'm feeling right now. 

It's been 1 year and 4 months since I've stepped foot in the state of Virginia.  And for the most part, I've seen many of the people I used to go "home" to see within that time frame (although there are many I have not seen and miss terribly).  What is really making me heartbroken to the point of figurative illness is this longing I have for the smells, the tastes, the feelings, the sounds, the general existence of being in the place from which I came.  The place that made me who I am today.  The church I was raised in, the preacher I grew up with, the streets I ran down, the restaurants I ate at, the familiar faces I got used to, the house(s) I grew up in, and every other prepositional phrase that the teachers who taught me in the schools that shaped me would shake their finger at me for using in succession like that.  I. miss. home.

There's something really essential to the healing of our souls in not only remembering where you come from, but in every once in awhile, going back there.  And I'm thinking it's about time - as a matter of fact, it's way overdue - that I go home.

Homesickness is a real thing.  And it has a lot to do with the PEOPLE you call home.  But it also has to do with the PLACE you mention when people ask you, "Where are you from?"

There's no place like home. 

Isn't it ironic that I had to come to Kansas to figure that one out? =)

525,600 Minutes

I haven't even looked at this site in about 3 months, but something inside told me to sign on here today. Now I know why.

It has been exactly 1 whole year since I last posted on this blogsite.

In a way, it makes me sad. Sad, because this is something near and dear to my heart, and I feel like I've abandoned it. I feel like a mother who gave her child up for adoption when he was 2, only to come back when he's 3 and say I'm clean now and want him back. Call me Halle Berryyyy. Okay, I'll stop.

But seriously. I feel like I have no right to come back to this place. Like I'm not welcome here anymore. Yet something, somewhere deep in my heart is pulling me back. So here I am.

365 days.

I have learned a lot in the past year. I've gone through a lot of changes, physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. In a lot of ways, I'm tougher, more strong-willed, and more determined than ever. Yet overall, I feel a peace that has come over me. One that comes with the realization that I have really begun to find my place in this world. The understanding that it doesn't have to be ME against THE WORLD. But in fact, I am just a tiny part of the universe that is within me. If that makes any sense (it doesn't).

I have all these lessons learned and mentalities changed and words of wisdom to share withput out into the blogosphere here today. But I feel like as a mother who's attempting to reclaim my child, I should probably sit in the room for awhile and see if he comes to me rather than just try and take off with him, kicking and screaming.

So here I am. If you'll have me. I will continue this conversation over the next couple of days.

But for the record, it's good to be back. =)

Dating is a mother

Okay, maybe mothers are a little more complicated (and crazier) than the dating realm, but it comes in a close second.

It goes like this…

You meet someone. You exchange numbers. You agree to meet up and hang out. You say all the right things. You're reading their body language, trying to figure out if they're into you. OR you keep checking your phone, trying to think of an excuse to run away fast if they're intolerable. But for this purpose, let's just focus on the date going fairly well. You walk to your cars, hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek, and part ways. The next morning, you start with the phone checking. Did they text last night to say they had a nice time, or they made it home safely? Will they call and ask to hang out again today? You replay the entire date in your mind, everything you said, everything they said. As the day goes on (or week), you start to think about all the things you might have done or said to make them not interested. Were you too aggressive? Too passive? Did you have something stuck in your teeth? Did they hate your outfit? Were they bored? Did you talk too much? Not talk enough? You start to set up scenarios where you might call them or text them, and what you would say to open up the lines of communication without seeming too crazy or pressed. You send a text message, asking how their day is going. They don't respond. Or they do respond and keep it short. You set up equations and time limits. If they don't call by next Friday at 5pm, you call them and see if they answer. If they don't return your call by 9pm, you erase their number and keep it moving. But what if they do answer? Do you add another 3 days to your equation? Do you plan to casually bump into them some place you know they frequent, making sure to look your best? Do you give up completely? And anyway, what the hell did you do wrong to make them not interested in the first place?!?!?

I know some of that seems extreme, but I promise every single one of us has done at least one (if not all) of these things at some point after a first or second date. The dating "game" is a complex and confusing situation. It causes more anxiety in young singles than STD and pregnancy tests combined. Those of us who think we've mastered the art, if we really took a step back and examined our abstract masterpiece, we'd realize it's some shit a 5 year old could do. And those of us who realize we're clueless, well, sadly, in general, are clueless just to how clueless we really are.

We want answers. We want equations. We want dos and don'ts that work every time. We need to know exactly what to do or say to get someone's attention, and the plan thereafter to keep it. And for the most part, there are equations that work for short-terms goals. You want them to like you, here's what you say. You want them to have sex with you, here's what you do. We watch the shows, read the books. We have the game all figured out.

I once had a guy invent the most fictitious representation of reality that never existed, just because he knew enough about me make himself what he thought I wanted in a man. I have 2 degrees from 2 prestigious universities; he said he had one from a prestigious university. I have no kids; he said he had no kids. I have a good-paying job; he said he had a steady income. I've never been married; he said he's never been married. I love Jesus; he pretended to be a devout Christian. I could probably go on for days, but you get the point, and I imagine you can also guess that after a month or so, everything began to unravel and I found out that about 90% of that was completely made up on the spot.

I felt dumb, but at the same time, it made me think about all the times I've stretched the truth to make myself more desirable to a man. Maybe not to such extremes, but I've definitely pretended to be more interested in, say, basketball, than I actually am. I've acted more religious, or less religious, based on what he seemed to expect out of a woman. I pretended like I read a lot of books if I needed to seem more intellectual. If I was attracted enough to a guy, I knew what to say to get his attention. I know enough about cars, sports, and hip hop music to sound like the type of girl every man wants. But (with the exception of college football and American muscle), those are not the things that really get me going. And all the while, I'm setting this whole relationship up for complete and utter failure.

Because eventually, I'll grow weary of pretending to be something I'm not. And eventually, he won't be able to maintain his act any longer. The chips will fall down, the masks will come off, and you will be left with someone you don't even know in them and someone you don't even recognize in yourself.

So what's the solution? How do we keep this from happening from the beginning?

Well I got some advice this morning that pretty much changed my entire approach. The advice, from a very intelligent and very missed friend of mine I like to call Henry the V, was simple – change my approach.
Instead of going into a dating situation trying to get someone to like me, my goal should be to find out whether or not I like them. Instead of thinking of all the right things to say or do to make myself more desirable to them, I should be interested in whether they're desirable to me. Because if we really took the time to learn a person, instead of focusing so much on whether they're interested in us, 9 times out of 10, we'd probably realize we're not even all that interested in or compatible with them, and it'd save ourselves a lot of heartache and disappointment.

So on date number one, our GOAL should not be to impress them or make them like us; our goal should be to find out more about them. From that point, or goal should be to be honest with ourselves and them, and decide whether or not this is someone who, just as they are, would get along with and accept us just as we are. If not, it takes all the pressure off of why they haven't called, why they're ignoring our texts, or why they're not interested. Because we're not longer interested in them being interested in us. And since we don't really know enough about them to know for sure whether we're truly interested in them, it's no harm, no foul to move forward and find someone else with a mutual compatibility.

So that's the secret. It's simple, but when I think about it, it's not something anyone has ever told me before. I thought I knew all the tricks, all the things to say, all the things to do or not do, what comes off as crazy, what turns them off, what makes them sprung. But no one ever told me to stop trying to do all the right things, and just be myself and focus on what they have to bring to the table.

I feel like I have a whole new lease on dating. And of course I don't think I can just change all my bad behaviors in one day, but I do feel a bit of a load lifted, and I feel like I have a new mindset that might just change everything.

So I wanted to share it with you. Those of you who are out there dating (and as more of my friends keep getting engaged and married, I'm realizing that number is decreasing), stop checking your phone, stop making timelines, and quit with all the expectations. Don't change anything about yourself to get someone's attention. Change your approach. Change your long term and short term goals. Stop worrying about whether they like you, and focus on whether or not you really like them.

I imagine it will change your life.

It ain’t preachin’ if you got Him

Yes, I turned an annoying hip hop anthem about prostitution into a religious proclamation. I can do that.

I was reading a post on my favorite site about a blogger's journey back to God, and it seemed to me that a lot of commenters were in agreement about a central idea: that going around "preaching" to everyone you come across often inspires just the opposite of the intended effect, and pushes people even further away from Him. And while I agree that the best way to show God's love is to display it through your character and actions "so they will see your good works and glorify our Father in heaven", I have also come to realize that (the first part of that quote is) "a city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden." And while pushing Jesus down someone's throat is never the ideal approach, I'm starting to see that the notion of "preaching" is solely based on the reception of it to those around you.

In other words, I'm just bragging about my perfect husband; you can take it any way you want to.

Furthermore, the common opinion seems to be that a person ought to be perfect in order to talk to anyone about God. If they know your flaws, then all you're proving is how much of a hypocrite you (and most Christians) are. I'm not exempt from feeling this way at some point in my life.

Yet this past Sunday, I woke up after a night of partying entirely too hardy in Austin, and numerous individuals informed me that I was telling everyone how much I love Jesus the night before (in several different languages). I don't remember most of it, and at first I was really embarrassed and disappointed in myself because I felt like a drunk person wearing a huge cross pennant and telling people about Jesus was not only incredibly stupid, but also probably validated everyone's opinion that all Christians are hypocrites. But after I thought about it for awhile, I just had to laugh. I laughed because I realized that even in my drunken state – even when I didn't know what I was talking about, and when I could only be honest because the Truth serum was flowing all through my veins – the number one thing on my mind was none other than the Love of my life.

And however anyone else perceived it was their problem, not mine.

When I look back, I realize that most of the time I accused someone of "preaching" to me (when I was in-between faiths), they were actually just telling me how wonderful God had been to them in their life, and I took it personally so I wouldn't feel so guilty or closed-minded for not believing. And every time I've been accused of shoving Jesus down someone's throat (don't even entertain that), I was usually just talking about how much I love Him and how my life has changed ever since He found me. I didn't tell anyone to go to church. I've never told anyone to read their Bible or confess their sins and be saved. I've never done any of the typical Jesus-pushing – because I've always acknowledged that in the same way that I never listened to anyone else until it was my turn to hear it, everyone has to make their own choices and live their life according to their own free will.

But in the same breath, it only took one person telling me about their journey in faith to make me examine my own. So what if God entrusts me with the task of telling my story to someone at the very moment He opens their heart to it, and I pass it by out of fear of offending them? How has our desire to be politically correct and inoffensive somehow surpassed our longing to please God? Because it shouldn't. Because at the end of the day, when everything else fades away and everyone else has disappeared, the only thing that matters is what we do for Him. I'm not talking about converting people or knocking on doors or shouting Bible verses from street corners. I'm just talking about letting your light shine before man.

If you feel like I've been trying to convert you all this time, please understand that is not my intention. I talk about Jesus most of the time because I'm in love. I try to fit Him into every conversation, I try to bring Him up when no one was even talking about him. He crosses my mind, and it makes me blush. He brings me sunshine, and I can't stop smiling. I don't want you to know about Him because I want you to have Him for yourself (though I am willing to share); I want you to know about Him because you just happen to be listening or reading or just in the vicinity of my presence, and I just want to brag about my boo to someone for a little while. If that means I offend you, then I guess that's your burden to bare, cuz I'm not gonna hold it in anymore. If that means we can't be friends, then I guess I have one less friend (or reader), but that's just a risk I'll have to take. If that means you're sitting there thinking if you hear or see His name one more time, you're gonna strangle me and burn the next church you see, then guess what? Jesus.

I love Him. That's all. It just isn't about you.

Jesus is the light of my world.

And I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Christians can be really stupid

Well, I guess anyone can be stupid. But as of late in the days of President Barack Obama, I’m starting to get really annoyed by so-called Christians who follow our religion so blindly that they hate or wish death upon individuals in the name of Christ.

Namely, the dumbest Christians these days are the ones who are praying for the death of the President. Perhaps the most famous of these individuals is an Arizona pastor named Steven Anderson who has been encouraging his congregation to pray that Obama will die “of natural causes” like brain cancer. Yeah.

Yet he is not the topic of this discussion. It was easy for me to ignore random stupid people that don’t affect my daily life. But recently, I have been seeing bumper stickers all over Texas (go figure) that say “Pray for Obama: Psalm 109:8”, and I wondered where all these good Christians were when the election was taking place. But then when I finally came across an article which explained the meaning of the slogan, I was disappointed (yet not surprised) once again. The verse reads, “May his days be few; may another take his place of leadership.”

Go figure. But that still wasn’t what disturbed me. What caused me pause was what immediately follows that verse. “May his children be fatherless and his wife a widow. May his children be wandering beggars; may they be driven from their ruined homes. May a creditor seize all he has; may strangers plunder the fruits of his labor. May no one extend kindness to him or take pity on his fatherless children.”

I know what the Bible huggers would say. “We only meant verse 8 for him. I never even read the rest of the Psalm.” Yet aren’t these the same people who accuse left-leaning Christians of being hypocrites and only taking part of the Bible to heart while ignoring the rest? Isn’t this the same thing they are doing when they rock this t-shirt or sport this bumper sticker?

So, let us be good Christians and read the entire chapter of Psalm 109, shall we? I think we shall…

It starts by saying: “Oh God, whom I praise, do not remain silent, for wicked and deceitful men have opened their mouths against me; they have spoken against me with lying tongues. With words of hatred they surround me; they attack me without cause. In return for my friendship they accuse me, but I am a man of prayer. They repay me evil for good, and hatred for my friendship.”

Hm. It sounds to me that the person reading the Psalm is the one being attacked and accused, while the people they are praying about are those who speak evil and wish harm against them. Since I can’t remember Obama ever really slinging mud at his opponents, it seems to me that when people pray this prayer, the person they are actually wishing death and despair upon is staring at them in the mirror. Let’s examine this further.

“He loved to pronounce a curse – may it come on him; he found no pleasure in blessing – may it be far from him. He wore cursing as his garment; it entered into his body like water, into his bones like oil. May it be like a cloak wrapped about him, like a belt tied forever around him. May this be the Lord’s payment to my accusers, to those who speak evil of me.”

“Pronounce a curse” – that sounds to me like praying that someone dies of brain cancer. These verses seem to indicate that when you wish a curse on someone, it will deflect and turn back onto you. That wishing someone’s children be fatherless might, in fact, leave your own wife a widow. Wishing harm on someone else’s body might enter your own body “like water”, as God promises to repay those who carry out evil in His name. Yet the chapter goes on.

“I am an object of scorn to my accusers; when they see me, they shake their heads. Help me, Oh Lord my God; save me in accordance with your love. Let them know that is it Your hand, that You, Oh Lord, have done it. They may curse, but You will bless; when they attack, they will be put to shame, but Your servant will rejoice. My accusers will be clothed with disgrace and wrapped in shame as a cloak. With my mouth, I will greatly extol the Lord; in the great throng I will praise Him. For He stands at the right hand of the needy one, to save his life from those who condemn him.”

Wow. I don’t even have to explain that one. This is what happens when you actually read the context of a verse, rather than just repeating it in vain.
Those of you “Christians” who really want Obama’s days of leadership to be few, it seems to me that your best defense against him would be to pray for Christ’s discernment upon him, and then if you’re still not satisfied, go out and vote Republican in 2012. But praying for his death or wishing ill will upon him will only bring that curse upon yourself.

My grandma used to always say, when you point your finger at someone else, three more are pointing back at you. Well it seems to me that when you point a Bible verse at someone else, 29 more are pointing back at you, too.

Don’t be a stupid Christian.

I see colored people.

No, seriously, I do.

When I was growing up, my parents were pretty racist. And by racist, I don't actually mean racist. I just mean they hated white people and tried to keep me from them as much as possible.

I keed, I keed. But truthfully, my parents always celebrated diversity and education, and tried to make it so that my siblings and I always saw successful people of color wherever we went. They did this so that we would know as children that regardless of what society might tell us, we could be anything we set our minds to. So since I can remember, I had black doctors, dentists, surgeons, and specialists. My parents’ closest friends were all successful black entrepreneurs, educators, and professionals, and every chance they got to take me to a place where I’d meet people who looked like me and achieved great things, they seized it. I can almost say I had a really distorted view of reality because most successful people I knew were black. Almost, because my parents never put me in any special schools to separate me from the people in the area in which I lived, so I did get a glimpse of the “reality” of being a minority, as well.

Anyway, looking back, I’m really glad my parents raised me this way. When I tell other people about it, a lot of them argue that that was reverse discrimination, or that it gives children the impression that racism and glass ceilings don’t exist. But I don’t see it that way at all.

It’s not like my parents would continue to go to BAD doctors just because they were black (and the idea that I’d have to lower my standards to employ minority professionals is insulting and racist in itself), but they would give a minority first dibs. In my opinion, it’s what we should be doing as a culture anyway. Why do Jewish and Asian communities thrive so quickly and so efficiently in other countries like the United States? Because they support their own. But for some reason, most minorities (Blacks specifically) get it in their heads that black service is bad service, and we avoid the name “Sheniqua Brown” or “Jerome Taylor” if we’re looking for a new doctor in a new city.

Well, I LOOK for those names.

First, because I believe in supporting my own community (especially when I know many people – even black people – intentionally do the exact opposite). And second, because it’s reassuring, even in my not-so-young-and-impressionable age, to see people of color in an extremely educated and highly paid position. It keeps me motivated, even still, to achieve higher goals in life. To go back and get my PhD or become a vastly skilled professional one day. It reverts me back to my younger days, and makes me proud to look the way I look, despite what society or the media may indicate.

I see colored people.

Even if it means I have to venture into sketchy parts of town (in broad daylight – get over it) or share a waiting room with individuals of a lower social class (though that’s not necessarily the case). Even if it means I have to drive a little further, pay a little more (sike, I don’t do that), or take the *chance* on unknown services. Even if it means all my friends get on me for being racist and reverse discriminating.

I see colored people.

And my kids will, too. It doesn’t mean you have to, too. But at least ask yourself this question: Have you ever seen the name “Jahnetta Davis” in the phone book of professionals, and kept it moving? If so, would you want someone to look at your name (or picture) and judge you based on that?

Furthermore, if you have kids, do you think they KNOW for a fact that they truly CAN be anything they want to be? If not, do you show them people who look like them that HAVE achieved the types of goals they may want to achieve?

It’s easy to tell your kids “You can be President someday”, but to be able to point to our biracial President and tell your biracial kids the same is probably a lot more effective. Even better if they could go to The White House and shake his hand. The same is true for doctors, lawyers, and community leaders.

I see colored people.

Who do you see?

Send Me

I went to this amazing concert last night. It’s kinda weird how it all happened.

One night about a year and a half ago, I was flipping through channels late at night, and for some reason, stopped at a channel that was playing videos. At the time, I didn’t realize they were Christian videos; especially since the video that had just started looked like your average rap/rock compilation and I couldn’t really tell what they were saying at first. But when I started to listen, not only was I impressed by the lyrical genius of both rappers on the stage, but I was moved by the words they were saying. When the final credits came on, I wrote down the names of the artists (Lecrae & Flame), and told myself to google them the next morning. When I did google them, I entered into a world I had never known existed before. Up until this point, every “Gospel rap” song I had ever heard was lame and was some wack stuff I could have written. Not only that, but I had always felt like “Christian rap” was a total oxymoron.

Yet these artists, along with the other artists on their label, were some of the most amazing rappers I had ever heard PERIOD – much less in the gospel genre. Every single one of them possesses a genuine skill in the art of lyricism, delivery, and beats; yet rather than rapping about sex, drugs, and money, they were talking about Christ.

What a concept.

So I found out a few of them were performing in San Antonio last night, and I decided to go. I’m not really sure what I expected. I guess I imagined I’d stay in my seat and listen to the word as if I were at church. But that wasn’t the case at all. The energy and love these people displayed for Christ was contagious, and before long, I found myself jumping up and down like I was at an Onyx concert and throwing my hands up in praise. More than that, I left the concert with a newfound realization of two very fundamental truths:

First, that God has bestowed certain gifts upon us that we should be using to glorify Him. Here I see these people who have the gift of music and spoken word, and they spend every day spreading the word, changing lives, and saving souls. They were given the same gifts as people who are millionaires right now talking about money, cars, and hos. Yet instead, they’ve humbled themselves to share the gospel. And here I am afraid of taking a pay cut in order to do His will. Talk about a pay cut! I know that I’m not doing anything with the gifts He has given me, and this money has left me unfulfilled.

Second, God has already chosen the most amazing and talented people to be on His team. It seems to me that the enemy uses the exact same strategies against God that He created for His glory. It’s as if the devil is not smart enough or strong enough to invent his own weapons, so he uses the same means that God invented to save us, but instead uses them to destroy us.

For instance, God created prophecy so that we might be prepared for attacks from the enemy, yet the devil uses this gift in many people (i.e. psychics, mind-readers) to instill fear or false hope in people. Another example of this is love. God created love as the greatest conqueror of evil, yet the devil uses earthly love to get us to idolize, lust, and avenge. Religion is probably the biggest form of this good turned evil. Created to bring us together as one to worship God, the devil has used this tool as a means to separate us, encourage hate amongst us, and brainwash and control our minds and spirits.

Music, for a lot of people, is beginning to take the place of religion. It’s the way we have come to approach, understand, worship, and even escape God and/or life. I think when God started to see the way the devil was using Religion against him, He invented a new means by which people could spread His gospel – music. Originally, most music was worship-centered and religious-based. Just looking at African American history alone, blues, jazz, rock and roll (rap/hip-hop/R&B’s predecessors) all originated from negro spirituals. Nowadays, this music is all centered around sex, alcohol, drugs, cars, and money. False idols the devil has put in place to keep us from fulfilling God’s purpose in our lives.

Yet God isn’t just sitting back and letting the enemy win. Not only is he enlisting the most talented individuals to join his army from the get, but he’s psyching the devil out by allowing people who were once Rebel generals to hit rock bottom and come over to Union. See Clifford Harris for further detail.

Not only that, but He’s giving those of us who remain indifferent, and who sit comfortably in the middle a chance to choose a side. By exposing us to the fact that we’re at war, He gives us the choice to either continue to be misled by the enemy’s lies or to pick up arms and stand with Him.

Perhaps this hip-hop revelation is the very battlefield that will commence The Revelation.

The time has come for us to decide:

Will we continue to blindly follow the way of the world, and listen to the words of a fallen angel?

Or will we be like Isaiah and stand before God, declaring, “Here I am. Send Me.”

Homewrecking is my favorite passtime

No, truly, I have never done such a thing (to my knowledge, anyway).

But with all this hype about Alicia Keys breaking up Swizz Beatz’s marriage, a lot of women seem to be busting out the claws and pointing evil glares in the direction of A. Keys. In the past, I would have hopped right on that bandwagon; yet, in light of recent life incidents, allow me to rebut on Miss Keys’ behalf.

First of all, ladies, we ALL live in some glass houses. Hence, stone-throwing seems way out of the question. Most women have at some point seen a man in a happy relationship or marriage and caught themselves looking at him sideways and making some kind of comment along the lines of, “Why can’t I find a man like that?” when in reality, you mean, “Why can’t I have THAT man?” as Chris Rock once suggested. As women, our very nature is jealousy and competition, so seeing anyone with something we want, our first instinct is to prey.

Before you proclaim that “that’s not me”, allow me to point out that unfailingly, without question, every single time I’ve gone out with a remotely attractive guy friend (or just walked down the street with him), some complete stranger female has either glared at me, gave him the eyes, or flat out came up and talked to him the moment I turned my head in the other direction. So if that’s happening 100% of the time, then statistically speaking (and I don’t have to remind you of my job title), there are a lot more of you home-wreckin’-tendency-havin’ women out there than you might want to admit.

Second, if you haven’t been in A. Keys’ shoes, it’s even less advisable to chuck that boulder from within your crystalline home. It’s one thing to be the aggressor and actively pursue a married man. That’s trifflin’. But if a (remotely attractive – and even worse if he’s extremely attractive) married man comes at you consistently and persistently for an extended period of time, it gets more and more difficult to check that moral code of yours. Add to the equation, perhaps, that you and Mister were friends beforehand, you click on several different levels, you have common goals, a common social circle, etc., and see if you don’t find yourself “envisioning” the possibility that he might divorce his wife (for irreconcilable differences, of course, and having nothing at all to do with you) and just-so-happen to find his way into your arms after one week of extensive separation.

It’s a lot easier than you think.

That’s not to say it’s impossible to resist a married man that fits all those descriptions. For some people (like those who have experienced infidelity firsthand, or whose parents divorced due to the same), they might not even flinch. They can just walk away from that friendship completely guilt-free, knowing they didn’t so much as *think* about the possibility. But for most of us (screwed up human being-types), it’s not that easy. At the end of the day, I will reject married man after married man after married man, regardless of the situation. But am I so innocent that I have never found myself daydreaming, falling victim of flirtation, or even flirting back with a man who is otherwise engaged?

Yeah… no. Not at all. I’ve been that girl. And I consider myself a person with a pretty strict moral code. Yet I’m still not so stone cold that I don’t respond in some kind of way to someone’s attraction or attention to me, regardless of how far I will or will not allow it to go.

I mean, after all, I’m only human.

Lastly, we women are way too tough on our own kind. I never understood why there’s so much tension between blacks and Mexicans, when they could just team up and hate white people (if they really just had to hate someone). If we women want to hate on someone in this situation, first and foremost it should be the man. Again, I’m excluding women who flat out hard-core pursue married men (A. Jolie for instance). But for someone like Alicia Keys (who seems to otherwise be a genuine person), dang, can’t we give the girl a break? If we want to be mad at someone, why not Swizzy? I mean, if anyone knew his marital status, it was certainly him. And if anyone can be held responsible for a man stepping out on his wife, or leaving her for another woman, it is without a doubt the man himself.

And even then, refer back to point #1. Why do we want so badly to judge others when we don’t ever look at our own mistakes and failings? I think we all need to get our judgment tendencies in check.

After all, no matter how much Windex I use, it will never fix my broken home.

Love his Big Ego

I got some interesting advice today from someone I hold to the highest regard, being a friend, somewhat of a mentor, and spiritual leader to me.

I was talking about how men tend to be intimidated – or rather – feel less adequate as a man around women who are intelligent, successful, opinionated, and educated (especially if it’s at a level equal or better than themselves). Of course this does not include all men; I know some guys who truly appreciate a woman who has it all together, even if it means they get outshined in some ways. But some – and I would venture to even say most – guys seem to want a woman to take a back-seat in a relationship, look up to him and his opinion, and in a lot of ways, give a man a sense of responsibility and leadership in life. In another words, he wants a woman to stroke his ego (no Beyonce`).

So my friend says this: Most women don’t know the secret. And the ones that do are the ones who end up with the good men. Not saying a woman should be submissive and have no opinions or ideas. Just saying that if a woman really wants to have a successful relationship, she has to know that sometimes, it’s best just to let him win. Sometimes you have to make him feel like it was his idea all along when you know you suggested it in the first place. Sometimes you just have to say “Wow honey, you’re so much smarter/stronger/better at this than I am. I dunno what I’d do without you.” And at the end of the day, deep deep down he’ll know you’re the better, but just thinking that you think HE is, is enough for him to want to keep your around.

And as much as I wanted to get on my post-modern post-structuralist feminist platform and curse him out about how his Muslim total submission ideals just set women back 50 years or a few continents to the east, I bit my tongue and practiced his teachings by saying, “You’re right, Chap. Great advice. You're so smart. What would I do without you?” And after the blood rushed back through my body, I started to think about this.

In some ways, he has a valid point (and being that he’s an older, wiser man, I’m willing to consider it). A male ego seems to be a lot like a woman’s heart. We will never understand it, see its purpose, or agree to anything it needs. But at the end of the day, women who are most successful in relationships are the ones who do what they can to keep the male ego(s) happy. Guys will never understand the deep, emotional workings of a woman’s heart. But the ones that just bite their tongue and pretend to care about our feelings and do the things we need them to do or say to make us feel more “secure” in our relationship are the ones that we tend to keep around. Perhaps it’s the same for men with their egos. Perhaps the big secret IS to just suck it up (pause) and give it a little stroke (double pause).

I mean, granted, I can agree that a man is the leader of a household, and should therefore be the leader in a relationship, so in a way, I see how he would need to feel dominant. But can’t he feel good about himself in other ways (like, say, his bedroom performance or ability to change a tire)? Does it always have to come down to brains, careers, and money??

I don’t know. Because on the way home, I shared these opinions with my (less – uh - colorful) man friend, and he seemed to suggest the complete opposite was true. His opinion was that a man who needs a woman to make him feel better about himself and more secure in his masculinity was not a man at all, and certainly not worthy of a good woman. Most guys “he knows” want a woman to challenge his thinking, call him out on his stuff, and drive him both intellectually and physically. And even though I think some of these men are talking real big game to their guy friends and at the end of the day, really do want a woman they can dominate (no CB), I actually believe that what he’s saying is true also.

Which leads me to the big question: Is this “ego” problem merely a black/minority phenomenon or does it apply to all men? Is there something in black/Hispanic/Arabic culture that drives men to feel the need for a constant ego boost from a woman, or does this bleed through color lines? Does the constant degradation of black (and Hispanic) men in our society and the media cause them to look to other means to boost themselves back up? Are minority women bearing the burden of hundreds of years of oppression and damaged self-worth? Who is bearing OUR burden? SHOULD it be our job to dumb ourselves down or downplay our success/education in order to make a man feel better about himself? Or is it just catering to the complex needs of a man the way he (should) cater to our own?

I need some answers.

Guys, HONESTLY, do you tend to gravitate toward women who “wanna be saved”, or do you TRULY appreciate a successful woman, even if she’s more successful than you? Could you honestly be in a relationship with someone more intelligent, or who makes more money than you do?

Ladies, do you find yourself biting your tongue, and singing praises about your man’s “big ego” just to make sure he feels good about himself? Or do you, like me, find yourself single most of the time because you refuse to fall back when you know you’re right?

Don’t get me wrong… I love a big ego as much as the next girl. But is it really my job is stroke it???

You tell me.

Return to me

When I think about all the time I lost,
All the people I hurt, all the pain I caused,
I think about everything I’ve done wrong
And how I’ve been astray for so long,
I begin to feel like there’s no way back;
Like I’ve used up all the chances I had.
And just when I think all hope is gone,
He’s standing there with open arms.

“Return to me,”
I hear Him say.
He says He’ll take the hurt away.
I know that I have caused Him pain,
But still I hear Him call my name.
I’ve tried so hard to put up a fight.
I went left when He said to go right;
And yet He still holds out His hand,
“Return to me,”
He says again.

So many times, He’s taken me back,
And set my feet on the right path;
I thought I had been born again,
Then found my way right back to sin.
And there I made the same mistakes,
And when he sought me, I hid my face.
I thought that it was just too late,
But He stood there with His saving grace,

“Return to me,”
I heard Him say.
He said He’d take the hurt away.
I knew that I had caused Him pain,
But still I heard Him call my name.
I tried so hard to put up a fight.
I went left when He said to go right;
And yet He still held out His hand,
“Return to me,”
He said again.

This time, I’m going to do it right.
I’ll walk the path of His heavenly light.
I won’t lose sight of His great plan.
I’ll hold on to His unchanging hand.
But if I fall back into sin,
I know he’ll pick me up again.
I won’t deserve it, but He’ll set me free
With these three words:
“Return to me.”

Stupid people are stupid

My nephew came to visit me this weekend. We had an awesome weekend filled with non-stop action and fun. I love being around that kid because he showers me with genuine love and affection, and serves as a constant reminder that no matter how bad life gets, it could always be worse (and even still, he’d be smiling). He’s one of those rare kids that actually appreciates the little things in life, like sitting around playing cards or going for walks or just chatting quietly about whatever. One of those that you look up to because you realize that even as an adult, you don’t quite have the hold on life that he seems to grasp. And other people can see it, too, because everywhere we go, he seems to bring out the best in everyone around him.

On the other hand, hanging out with my nephew also tends to bring about a deluge of some very different emotions in me: like anger, sadness, and resentment. Sadness because I know how much it must hurt him to see kids running around and doing all kinds of things he’ll probably never do. Resentment because I wonder how someone so pure, so innocent, could have been dealt such a crappy hand. And anger, because going anywhere with a child in a wheelchair is the perfect opportunity to highlight the stupidity in stupid people.

Please allow me to acknowledge them now.

People who point/stare or do not check their kids for pointing/staring. Some of the worst beatings I can remember were for just that. And I’m thankful for parents who understood the necessity to break these habits in me. People act like my nephew can’t see them staring at him just because he’s in a wheelchair. He’s handicapped, morons, not blind. One time, this little girl came up and just stood right next to our table at a restaurant and just stared for like 5 minutes. Her parents didn’t even say anything to her, either. When she ran back to her table and slipped on some soda (that I had just spilled – oh, sweet irony) and fell on her butt and started crying, I chuckled quietly and wondered if I had actually willed that to happen. Teach your kids some manners, folks.

People who talk to 9-year old kids like their babies just because they’re in a wheelchair. I think this is my nephew’s least favorite stupid. Don’t you think he feels infantile enough that he can’t go to the bathroom on his own or bathe himself? Don’t you think someone who gets carried everywhere he goes already feels belittled? Now you want to talk down to him and make him feel even smaller because you don’t understand that physical disabilities are not the same as mental ones? And even if he did have a mental disability, he’s 9 freakin’ years old!! If I could bottle up the face he gives people who talk down to him, and market it and put it on a t-shirt, it would take the place of the middle finger as the international symbol for “F^@& YOU @$$hole”.

People who call physically disabled people “RETARDED”. Just typing that word increases my heart rate (not even exaggerating). I once had someone argue the point with me that “retarded” was the medically correct term for it. Really??? Mental retardation is my nephew’s diagnosis?? All this time I thought he had a physical disability, and you, with your bachelor’s degree have managed to prove nine years of doctors wrong. Thanks for clearing that up. Now that I know that’s the universal word for any type of disability, I’ll keep that in mind when you’re pointing, staring, and talking like a baby to my nephew; I shouldn’t be offended because you might just be “retarded.”

People who park in handicapped spots, and then walk perfectly able-bodied into a building. I don’t care whose car you’re driving, or what jack@$$ doctor actually signed the forms for you to park in the handicapped spot. I actually have a WHEELCHAIR to unload, which is what the handicapped spots are for in the first place. Every time I see somebody’s grandmother struggling in her walker from the back row while they park in the handicapped “just to run in real quick”, I want to Me, Myself, & Irene-style take a trashcan and slam it into their windshield. There are times when I can’t even take my nephew somewhere because there’s no place to unload his wheelchair. Once, I even had to unload it at the front of the mall, leave it there, and then park far away and carry him to the chair. All because of stupid people. And “running in real quick” is not an excuse to park in the handicapped spot, either. The fact that you have the ability to “run in real quick” negates the whole disabled thing. Take the extra 10 seconds and stop being a lazy @$$.

I may or may not be talking about you. If I am, good. Because the purpose of this entry is that I know not everyone is blessed with the opportunity to know someone that makes them think about things differently, and so I wanted to spread the wealth.

Have more compassion and education regarding people with disabilities. It could save you from a lot of bad karma. Just remember – when we take for granted the basic human rights that God has blessed us with, He will take them away. And I promise, your abilities mean more to you than you know.

Don’t be stupid.

All my single... Dads?

In the near 25 years of my life until now, I can honestly say that I’ve probably met all of two single Dads, and I’m pretty sure both of them were single as a result of a deceased or mentally unfit wife.

I moved to San Antonio, and that number exponentiated. I now know of about 8.

Two of them are really close friends, which leads me to believe there are a LOT more out there that I just haven’t had the pleasure of meeting.

Now when I say “single Dad”, I’m not talking about someone who is SINGLE and has bastards. I know too many of those. I’m also not talking about someone who gets their kids on the weekend, or for one week out of the year. What I’m talking about are men whose exes are completely alive and stable, yet they have full custody of their children for at least 6 months out of the year (and most of them—my 2 friends included—have 100% full custody), and there is no other woman living in their home.

Now think about that for a minute. How many of these guys do you know?

I’m imagining that number is close to 0.

What I’ve noticed from becoming close to some of these extraordinary gentlemen is that the plight of the single Dad is so different from that of a single Mom. Granted, there are a lot of similarities. There are also some unintended bonuses: like that women actually think it’s HOT (for a short while) for a man to be a single Dad, whereas men don’t exactly flock to single Moms. I also imagine society (particularly the work world) probably tends to be a lot more lenient with single Dads because it is such a less understood phenomenon (i.e. single Dads are probably aloud a lot more leeway with coming in late, leaving early, and taking days off for the sake of their kids). Yet there are a lot of things that make the plight of a single Dad particularly admirable, so if you will, allow me to marvel.

Single Dads don’t have friends that are willing to watch their kids. I mean, yes, they probably have female friends, but one thing I’ve heard from my close single Dad friends is that usually, they are weary of letting close female friends be around their kids too much because they might get attached, or they might feel like the women are using their kids to get close to them. I never thought about it like that before, but it makes total sense. So if you only trust people of the same gender with your children (as most women do), you’re pretty much screwed. Because I don’t know a lot of men who will watch their homeboy’s kids for them while they go out on a date or run errands. So they end up scratching the dating game right off their list. Which leads me to my second point.

Single Dads find it harder to bring significant others around their kids. This isn’t to say that single Moms don’t do the same. But I think I definitely see the distinction here. Children with absent mothers tend to look for that womanly affection or comfort more adamantly than they look for guidance and protection from a father – usually the desperate need for father figures comes a bit later in life. For younger children, they need emotion, love, and comfort that generally only women can provide. So by bringing a woman around, you risk the chance of (both parties) getting overly attached, and if things don’t work out, it leaves a very messy situation.

It’s more difficult for single Dads to tap in to that “Mommy” side than it is for single Moms to tap into their “Daddy” side. What I mean is that our society does not encourage men to be emotional, expressive, tender, or vulnerable. So when the mother is out of the picture, a man has to take on roles that up until this point have been foreign to him. The traditional roles of a Daddy: protection, guidance, discipline, and strength, are a lot easier for a woman to take on because it is not dissuaded (as much) for women to have these traits in our society. So in a sense, women are somewhat built by nature (and nurture) to be able to handle single parenting; whereas men are most definitely not.

Single Dads have a lot less of an (emotional) support system in place than single Moms. I’m not saying it’s easy for single Moms. But most single women know other single mothers that they can talk to, and who understand what they’re going through. Even though I know 6 single Dads in this one city, none of them knows each other, and all of them say the same thing when I tell them I know a handful of other single Dads: “What?!? You mean there’s other guys out there like me?? And here I thought I was special…” Sounds like a joke, but I know it stems from a very difficult feeling of loneliness, and even resentment. Because it’s hard. There aren’t exactly a plethora of support groups built around single fatherhood. And if they talk about their vulnerabilities to anyone, they might think he’s weak or less of a man. Single Moms can cry every single day, have a nervous breakdown, seek counseling, and probably even commit herself, and no one will think anything of it because we all sympathize with the plight of the single mother (these days, most of us were even products of one). Yet if a single Dad shows one sign of weakness, he’s still just a man crying, and who wants to see that?

So… I’d like to take the time to give a shout out to all my single Dads out there handlin’ their business. Keep grinding. ;-) It’ll all be worth it in the end.

Now put your hands up, Uh uh oh Uh uh Oh oh oh oh Oh Oh oh.

I see you.

People here are nice

This morning, I was running late for work (as usual) and (for once) the bus driver decided to wait for me before taking off. It was the last shuttle for another 15 minutes, and I was fully aware of that as I approached at a speedy pace.

Yet once I got on the bus, I noticed a line of people waiting to be seated, and I realized this probably meant seats were running low. To my chagrin, I was the last person left standing without a seat, and the driver started to glance in his rearview mirror, wondering why everyone wasn’t sitting down. It only took me a second to read the big sign in bold letters that said “ABSOLUTELY NO STANDING ROOM” and realize it was time to exit shuttle left. Without hesitation, a young man sitting down beside me scooted out of his seat and told me to sit there. I initially declined and started to make my way back to the front, when he grabbed my arm and said, “Hey, either you’re going to sit there or the seat’s gonna stay empty because I’m not sitting back down.” So I thanked him and obliged to sit in his seat. He squatted down in the back and tried to make it look like he was sitting in the back row. I know the bus driver probably noticed, but I guess he couldn’t get in trouble if it looked to everyone else like he was sitting down. So he took off, and for the duration of the trip, I was in complete and total shock over the fact that a complete stranger gave up his seat and squatted down for 15 minutes on a shaky charter bus just so I could get to work on time. I was overwhelmed.

All I kept thinking was what I should do in return. Give him a hug? Keep saying thank you over and over until he wished he hadn’t done it? Introduce myself?? Nothing seemed appropriate in this situation. He did a really amazingly nice thing, and I doubt he wanted any credit or repayment for it. He was just a nice person – or either he was just being a gentleman (because chivalry is not dead in the military for sure)—and anything I did would just take away from the simplicity of his random act of kindness. So I just thanked him again and enjoyed the ride to work.

But it got me thinking. I didn’t deserve that. I was late. I should have been there on time, and he could have stayed seated. I’m not a good person. Why should people be nice to me? I was so humbled.

I was also reminded that just yesterday, the cashier at the defac (cafeteria), who probably recognized my OCD, was curious as to why I did not get French toast that morning, and I told him they had run out. So he says “brb” and goes in the kitchen and gets me the last piece of French toast “so I don’t have a bad day”. Not only did he get it for me, he gave it to me for free.

And I was speechless. Again, moved by kindness. And again, undeserving.

I can think of so many situations where I've felt this way, especially since I’ve been here. Random strangers helped me move into my apartment (from start to finish) the day I got here. A random guy offered me tips on where to go, what to do, and how to get around the first day I moved in, and his advice has been priceless ever since. People give me free stuff, help me out when I don't even ask, and compliment me all the time (not just here), and I know I don’t deserve it.

The truth is none of us deserves anything good that happens in our lives. Which is why we always want to pay people back when they do something nice. Only there’s no way to pay someone back for a kind gesture without taking away from the random benevolence in it. What makes people feel good about doing something kind is knowing they did it without getting anything back. So the only way I can return the favor to the guy from the bus, or the cashier from lunch, or the people who helped me move in is to pay it forward. Someone was kind to me, so when the opportunity presents itself, I should do something completely selfless for someone else, and maybe they will feel compelled to do the same, and so on and so forth.

That’s what makes this a “nice” town. It’s not that people are just raised better here or the culture or stress level is different than everywhere else (though that might also be true). It’s merely the perpetuation of kind acts which allows for an atmosphere of graciousness and humility.

The beauty of kindness is that it only starts with one person, yet has the propensity to grow exponentially, as long as we nourish it and continue its cycle.

And it usually doesn’t even take something big. It’s as easy as complimenting someone’s outfit or haircut, or giving someone a hug, or telling them they’re appreciated. Sometimes even the smallest gesture can make a big difference on someone’s day – even sometimes the difference between life and death.

People aren’t nice here. Not anymore than they are anywhere else. People just tend to take opportunities for generosity when they’re presented with them. But that’s most likely because someone was nice to them, and so on and so forth, all starting back with just one.

That person could be you.

So make your town a nice town. Do something nice for someone today. :)


“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven…” –Matthew 5:16.

Lookin for Love

I heard a startling statistic the other day. Someone said that 1 in 8 couples married last year in the United States met online. Now, as a statistician (hehe), I know that 7 out of 8 statistics are completely made up, and I’m pretty sure that’s one of them (as is that one). But even so, I happen to know of at least 3 couples that met through internet dating sites or random connections via social networking sites, and it seems to be a growing phenomenon despite, or perhaps in favor of, statistics.

I’ve thought about joining one of these dating sites once or twice – maybe even signed up for a free one just to check it out, and then deleted myself after like one day of not being impressed. And I certainly have friends that have actually paid for the eharmony’s or the match.com’s at hopes of finding Mr. or Ms. Right via PhotoShopped pictures and sound bite communication.

As for me, I have my doubts. Well, I should say reservations.

It’s not that I don’t think it’s possible to find true love on the net. I mean, I guess it’s not different from the old days when people (who were hooked up, I dunno, by their grandparents or something) would write each other for years and years and send pictures, and make this profound connection through merely words on a page, having never actually met. But in most of those situations, there was some other circumstance which allowed them to know of each other in the first place—like mutual friends or wartime correspondence. In any case, it feels more like fate when you didn’t seek out that person, but find them, instead, by chance.

So I guess my real issue with internet dating, speed dating, or any other thing we do to seek out a significant other, is that I feel like, in some weird way, we’re attempting to take fate into our own hands. It’s like I’m telling God, “Actually, You’re not doing it fast enough, so I think I’ll go ahead and find someone on my own, thank You very much.”

And in my experience, every time I try and take things into my own hands (in any aspect of life), it never seems to work out quite as well as when it happens just by chance. I have a sticky suspicion God's plans are just a little bit more perfect-er than my own. Which makes me pretty hesitant to do anything that even remotely resembles my own idea.

I guess on the other hand, one could argue that the reason they felt the desire to go to that particular dating site at that particular time was because they were meant to find that exact person there… Is it still taking fate into your own hands if you think fate is leading you to that site in the first place??

.

Maybe that’s a stretch, but I don’t think it’s any different than, say, going to a club or gym or even church with the idea in the back of your mind (I don’t do this, ya’ll – lol) that you could potentially meet the love of your life there. Just like dating sites, odds are PRETTY high that I won’t find my next great relationship in the frozen food aisle at Kroger (like my friend, whoever...), so what’s the real harm in going there with the hopes that I might?

.

I suppose the harm is that when I’m at any other (regular) place where people meet, I generally go there with some other intention other than to find someone to date. And even if that IS my first priority (like going to a bar, for instance), I’m probably getting something else out of it (like a fun night out) aside from those realized hopes. If I happen to pick up a guy, it’s just a bonus.

But when we seek out love, are we not setting ourselves up for disappointment in the end?? The internet allows for convenient omissions we might not have otherwise had the ability to avoid had we connected in person… So if we build this person (or ourselves) up to be something they’re not, in the end, will we not be sadly disillusioned?

Furthermore, wouldn’t it be better to know that love found you, rather than the other way around?? Where does the line between fate and free will get fuzzy??

I dunno, I’m just talkin…

Any thoughts??

Alphabet Soup

Mmmmm, all this needs is a little Texas Pete.

So it’s been awhile. Okay, that’s probably an understatement. But if you knew how hectic my life has been (and how little internet access I’ve had) over the past 5 (geez) months, you’d be just a little bit forgiving. So 10-second wrap-up: I completed my thesis, exams, and earned a Master’s degree, took a road trip (or 3) across the country, got a job (HALLELUJAH!), rented out my house in Atlanta, moved to San Antonio (in 3 days flat), and started a brand new life in a city where I know absolutely 100% no one. Aannnddd breathe.

So before I get rolling with all the mentally constipated blogs that I’ve written in my mind over the past 5 months (which hopefully will be posted every couple of days over the next few weeks), there’s just one tiny thing I have to acknowledge out in the open just one time (since this is the place I’m supposed to come clean about things like this), and hopefully never again have to admit:

I was wrong.

Okay, lift your jaw up off the floor. I know, I know. It’s not something that happens very often (well, the admitting part anyway). But recently, I’ve had to take back some of the harshest words I’ve ever expressed, and it’s a lesson that I need to share.

So here’s the message; like to hear it? Here is goes.

God has a twerrific (what movie?) sense of humor.

He likes when you tell Him about your plans as if life’s actually going to go your way at any point. More specifically, He loves when you say things like “I’ll never do this” or “That will never happen to me,” because it just gives Him that much more incentive to make those things happen even faster.

The best part about God’s sense of humor is that He will not only make you EAT your words, but for extra fun, He’ll make sure you LIKE the taste of them. MmmmMMmmmmm, sweet regret. Tastes so good.

So two years ago, my Mom said she was moving to Texas, and my Dad decided to buy a house for her to live in. I cursed the grounds of that house. Cried about how they were moving to the ONE STATE I would NEVER live in, and when I got married and had children of my own (or bastards without the marriage), they would never know their grandparents just like I didn’t get to know my Tejano grandpeeps. I vowed to live on the east coast for the rest of my life. I am, after all, an east coast baby. Born and raised in VA, undergrad in PA, and grad school in GA. There was just no way. Furthermore, the dumbest, most backward, racist people (outside of Alabama) live in Texas, and I could never be a part of that society. Words, words, words.

Now for the feast. With my mom to Texas came my nephew; with my nephew came my sister. My brother had a daughter, and now, just based on pure mathematics (which is how generally I roll), I have more immediate family in the state of Texas than I do on the entire east coast. Damn you, arithmetic.

Furthermore, it only took a couple conversations with my nephew telling me he wants to move to Atlanta to live with me to realize I can’t spend another year missing him grow up. He is, after all, pretty much the only man in my life. The other man in my life (my Daddy) is retiring in one year and moving – you bet – to Texas.

All roads lead to hell (in a pick-up truck). Where the temperatures break 100 every single day, and there’s more pride (and prejudice) than a Jane Austen novel.

So here I am.

Now for the icing on the cake: I kinda like it here. San Antonio, anyway. My job is pretty awesome (especially given the “scenery” of men in uniform everywhere), the people are (generally) really nice, I the racial climate is actually not that bad, and the male to female ratio is probably the REVERSE of that in Atlanta (Thank you Jesus, and the U.S. military). Plus I love my apartment, the area of town I live in, the River Walk, and nightlife, and really I have no complaints (except the heat and – lack of – radio stations). It’s exactly where I think I should be, and where God wanted me, for that matter.

Because like I said before, our plans are pretty ridiculous in God’s eyes. Our words are just fuel for the eternal flame He has burning for our lives.

Yes, I moved to Texas, and yes, I like it here. Who knows what’s next in my life, but since I’ve been here, I’ve found myself eating more and more of the syllables and phrases I've uttered into existence all my life. I would share them all, but there’s honestly not enough room.

So lesson learned. You should learn from me, too. Always make sure your words are sweet like honey because you are certain to taste them in the future.

Back in the day, God would have withheld my entrance into the promise land for saying some slick mess out the side of my neck.

Thank goodness He seems to have since (the Old Testament days) developed a profound sense of humor.

Bon apetit!

Black girl, eat your heart out

Let me start with a disclosure: this post does not apply to all black women.

But I can predict with 95% confidence (and as of today, I'm exactly 3 months from a higher-level degree in statistics) that if I'm not referring to you, then I probably am referring to someone you know. So take notes... (for them, of course).

About a week ago, I was reading one of my favorite controversy-stirring blogs, and observed an excess of virtual head-snapping and finger-waving taking place over the hot topic of interracial dating. I didn't comment at the time, but some of the arguments were infuriating me in a way by which I did not even realize I could be offended. After all, I usually straddle the fence for most racially-driven topics, being that I come from two very different cultural backgrounds. Furthermore, I always sympathized or identified with some of the arguments being made; even if I didn't agree with them myself, I could see where they were coming from on some levels. But suddenly it hit me, and I realized... I just don't feel that way at all anymore. In fact, I'm adamently against those sentiments, and I've decided finally to take a stand and clarify some things that might cause me to lose some friends - but that need to be said anyway.

So here goes.

Men don't just like me because I'm light-skinned and have long hair. And it's degrading to me that you seem to think so. I have so much to offer a man besides my looks and my ability to make pretty babies. I'm intelligent, vivrant, driven, fun, educated, positive, loyal, spiritual, and a host of other adjectives that make me more than worthy of a good man. Just because a man doesn't want you and does want me does not mean there's some visibly identifiable explanation you can utilize to make yourself feel better. I mean, if you want to raise your self esteem, you should probably try changing the things about you that men don't like, which is not your skin color or your hair. It's probably your stank @$$ attitude.

Mixed/Hispanic/other race/ and yes, even WHITE women are no "easier" than black women. Unless by easy, you mean NOT PETTY. But even then, we'd have to pull out the photo finish on that one. For some reason, some women get it in their minds that everyone else is just lying on their backs waiting for a man to come stick it in, while you, oh nubian princess, are just putting up way too many obstacles for a man to overcome in order to get the juice. The real hard truth is - sorry to inform you - the proportion of black women I know that will put out in a relatively short period of time is similar, if not equal to that of any other race. Furthermore, being in a relationship with ANY woman is a struggle. Ask yourself this: why do you make it so difficult for a man to keep you satisfied, anyway? What are you trying to prove? Because the only person you're hurting is yourself. Then you end up alone and mad that he's "through with black women" based on his experience with you.

No white/latin/mixed woman is out to get your man. And if they are, it's probably a personal vendetta against you and it has nothing to do with your race. Maybe you just have a really good man. You shouldn't bring him out in public so often. But seriously, it really frustrates me when (Becky) starts to date a guy that no one even wanted before she had him, and now all of a sudden, everyone is like, oh, black girls ain't good enough for him, blah blah blah. When he was tryin to get at you, oh beloved brown-skinned beauty, you wouldn't give him the time of day. Now all of a sudden you're mad that he moved on to someone (or something) new? Get over yourself. Stop trying to play the victim and take responsibility for your own actions. There's a reason black men turn to other-race women, and it rarely has to do with effort. It usually has to do with black women letting good men pass them by while they try and work things out with these thugs and sluts, and then wanting them to still be there when they realize Mr. Thug and Mr. Slut will never change. That'll drive even the most devout chocolate-lovers to at least dip in the caramel, if not immerse themselves in milk. Oops, your loss.

Lastly, you are not that different from anyone else. So stop giving me the excuse that you just can't date outside your race because a white or hispanic man will never understand where you come from. Yes, there are things that are unique about the plight of a black woman, but no more unique than anyone else's individual struggles. Black men certainly don't understand black women, so what's the difference, anyway? Stop whining and complaining long enough to see the similarities between you and everyone else, and you won't feel compelled to play the victim card every chance you get. If all good black men are gay or taken by a white woman, then go find yourself a white man (or be gay). And if you don't want to step outside your comfort zone, how dare you accuse a man of wanting something "easy" when you're doing the exact same thing??

The world is a'changing. It's time we let go of lame, tired excuses and embrace our similarities while celebrating our differences.

Trust me - I've been there. It's nothing but a burden.

Just let it go.