Be seen not heard pretty girl, and you'll be loved

For me life has been pretty cyclic in nature, always going in phases; seasons like life on Earth. Some look at it as something to look forward to, 'the summer of your personal life is coming soon, this winter will soon pass' I personally don't. If I never had to experience anything like that which I felt as a kid, I would be more than grateful. Its because of those experiences I am who I am today; believe it or not I was this way as a tyke too. Cuckolded into an obedient, loyal, silent, god-fearing, perfectionist at home, I was more than pleased for the escape of school each weekday. School meant freedom, speech, learning, and most of all engaging people who weren't following the rules of my master at home. Sometimes this exploratory nature got me notes home to my master pinned on my chest, but it was worth the risk and the beating that came with the receipt of that notice. I have been a passionate purveyor for the right for individuals to have peace, to not be harassed, to not be bullied, and to not be ostracized for who they are if they aren't antagonizing others; its part of the reason why I love New York so much. Let your freak flag fly, is one of the best feelings you can give someone...comfort in their own skin. My freak flag, although to many may not seem that freaky at all, was recently doused in flames by a friend who found me to be embarrassing; 'stressful'. My personal promises to myself as a scared, broke, homeless, pre-adolescent living in a children's shelter on Chicago's Northwest side at age 11 were simple; 1) Respect yourself; never succumb to the allure of what a man can do for you in exchange for money 2) Don't take any unnecessary shit off any man, woman, or child. This means verbal assault, sexual attack, belittling, etc...Fight back! 3) Don't be stupid/naive. People will hurt, use, and abuse you for pure enjoyment. Bulk up on both book and street smarts. I survived the shelter, the group homes, the foster homes, my abusive parents and grandparents, the ViceLord gangs, mean girls, rude boys, doubtful social workers and teachers, and the scum of life by these rules as a child and today as an adult. When anything happens to me and falls into any of the above rule infractions I will defend myself by any means necessary. To put it mildly I may just die protecting and defending myself. I don't need anyone in my corner, especially doubtfully. I don't need you to fight my battles, but if me fighting my battles embarrasses, exhausts, or betwixt you, then its best we part ways. This isn't a case of some 'independent woman, strong black woman' media created misnomer crap, this is real, everyday, love of self and recognition of self-value. There is not a month that goes by that even as a 31 year old adult, I fantasize about what it would have been like to have loved ones; I can't seem to shake it. In my fantasy I imagine my mom & dad would be fierce fighters for individuality and freedom too. They would be smart, affectionate, compassionate people who would encourage me towards good, and comfort me after good fails. I imagine that when I tell them about that flame throwing friend, they would tell me 'she should have stood by your side honey, you did the right thing in protecting yourself from harm'. But they're not here, they've never existed. I write this as tears infiltrate my stony, once cherubic face, in accepting that I am alone, losing a friend, and lonely in the face of not being continuously disrespected by someone I loved, and not being backed by someone I trusted. If 'be seen, not heard' is the price to pay for love, then I suppose I'm a miserly loser in life. My heart is a fragment of the beauty that it was born with. Clingy to the notion of happiness like that of a young to its parent. I haven't closed my mind off to untainted love, by I have realized that its standing is merely ajar.

Dynamic vs Static

The other day an older professional man referred to me as a 'dynamic woman' to someone who works in the VC funding arena, and it set an alarm off in my head. While the dictionary defines dynamic as 'pertaining to or characterized by energy or effective action' in my field dynamic refers to something that has to constantly be refreshed, like dynamic web pages that are generated in real-time. I will cop to constantly needing to be refreshed, constantly needing something to tie me to what's happening right now, versus what could be happening later. I struggle in an effort to balance my naturally birth attributed desire to live a natural, fun, free-flowing life where money is not my biggest problem and real love (not that fake bff stuff) is abundant. Instead, I live a life where money is not my biggest issue, most of what I do I can say is un-natural (e.g. staring at a computer minimum 12 hours a day), fun is limited, and love is even more scarce. Stress, disappointment, and unrequited affection are static (fixed) for me. Static life has brittled my hair, made my stomach an angry black sea, and keeps me on a sleeping pattern of choppy rest from 2am-6:30am average. I have actual carpal tunnel from finger to elbow and my skin now rejects too much time spent in the sun as a result of not having a good balance between this good and evil; dynamic and static. I want to be a dynamic woman. I have so much energy in me and it all wastes idly as I indenture myself to the capitalistic machine of the new corporate America. My inner dynamo would be happy to learn for the rest of her life; earning degree after degree, and sharing my knowledge through teachings. My inner dynamo wants to live in a space where someone says they actually care about you, and it translates to you feeling it; they're not just pacifying words. Inner dynamo doesn't mind working hard, but wants it to make more than a financial difference for someone. I admire my inner dynamo, and yet I'm slowly killing her. My latest professional conquest has now put me at the very top of my field. In fact,in some/most companies Director is the highest level with few having V.P. titles. So in my mind I'm done. I've just flipped this video game and I'm ready to try a new one now! I want to be a combination of dynamic and static girl. I want to give my inner dynamo a chance at becoming a reality.

Not a Mac Truck, Not Quite a Butterfly

Why can't I be accepted as the somewhere in-between? Why is it most women are comfortable with my dualistic nature of strength and autonomy?

But men, oh you men, you hate to see a woman like myself possibly be more of a Mac Truck than you could ever be. You degrade me when you sense that I have an aire of confidence and strength, in a an effort to bring me down to your low, juvenile comprehension level. You see my strength and independence as a direct challenge to your not fully-formed manhood and think of ways to attack me.

Your most common form of attack is the tired but true hyper-sexualization of me. You boil everything I am down, all that I am created of and from, and amass it to one large sexual character. I go from possibly being the next great tech or legal mind, to being the next best Betty Boop.

Excuse me for not being the easiest thing you've ever done in your life, disallowing for a very undeserving pat on the back. I apologize for being tall, I actually think this is not directly my fault, as it is the fault of my parents. I apologize for calling you on your weak shit, you want all the luxuries and benefits of a good boyfriend and partner, yet you barely scrape by as a passable early Tuesday evening date. Forgive me for requiring that you respect my virtue, and when you don't putting you in the place where you belong; repeatedly. Apologies if I simply don't appreciate being lied to, lead-on, or push-pinned..you know what push-pinned is...that thing you do where you pretend you're soooo tormented over the idea that you can't be with me now, so you'll just put a push-pin in me until you're over your whole selfish, self-righteous, wannabe Wilt Chamberlin phase.

Just because I'm not a butterfly, doesn't mean I'm a Mac truck. I have feelings, I care (sometimes), I definitely notice, I like strong men, I like smart men, I love men who honor women, I don't want to be in charge at home, I'm in charge plenty at the office all day (of other men mind you). Stop the b-s and recognize me for the woman I present to you, all day every day.

Why is she so....

Angry: because of the hand she was dealt. Her entire life she's been playing catch-up, still only to be in the outfield.

Non-committal: because not even her own blood could commit to loving her for a lifetime, so why would she commit to anything?

Sad: because she is alone, not the kind that can be remedied by online dating, but the kind that lasts forever. The kind that you're either born with or without.

Driven: because when you're alone, procrastination can be deadly, so being driven is your only option

Loyal: because her "friends" are her family and when she actually grants you this title, it's meant to be for life..

This thing called life is sometimes to heavy to carry all by myself. My neighbor yesterday asked me why I was carrying my fridge up the stairs without help, I could only reply "because I'm alone, I have no help". Just because I'm strong doesn't mean I'm not fragile also. I'm tired of being called pretty, beautiful, sexy, all these empty terms that may as well be insults if there are no actions that support them. The Rabbi asked me what I feel about family, I told him I know nothing of it. Attempts at re-creating that feeling I think you get from family (what I gathered from TV) have failed miserably.

I'm tired, exhausted even, wish I could just float in a sea of happiness not littered with lies, pretention, deceit. Humble is as humble does, but at some point humble gets run over. If I've ever told you I hate you, its because at that very moment I actually did.

My rambling is not from a place of sickness but rather a place of nothingness. All people fail me, and I should only be so lucky to one day meet someone who doesn't actually make it a point to.

Not Loved By "Fill in the Blank"

What makes a person un-lovable? I should probably ask myself that question, for it seems I will live my existence having never known what its like to be loved.

I watch the news and read newspapers about murderers, rapists, burglars, people who are supposed to bear the mark of shame in our society. I read about how their 'loved ones' protect their presumed innocence and rally around them so they can feel a sense of support and care.

I look at mothers, parents, and how their love is unconditional, unwavering, strong, pure, even for children who disappoint, disrespect, and prove to be apathetic towards everyone.

I look at people who own pets and how they laud them with affection and treats forging family like bonds with these non-human beings.

And then I look at me......Natasha never wanted me, I was one of those mistakes that happened because her 17 year old self was too selfish use a condom, to swallow a pill, to keep her hormones at bay. From the moment of inception I'm certain I could taste her vitriol as it slithered its way down through the placenta to my heart, trying to warn me about the hatred and loneliness I would face outside the womb.

Once birthed at the ripe age of 18, Natasha was relieved to no longer be physically connected to me the mistake, and it showed. In every neglected opportunity to hug, kiss, or even pat my head in approval I shrank smaller in size, trying to become as invisible as I felt. My cloak of invisibility was apparently so strong, that it also prevented grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc from expressing one "I Love You". Of course, no orphaned child was told of love at the shelters, foster homes, and group homes I resided in, this would have been laughable.

I grew thinking that it was okay, one day (according to movies and tv) a guy would love me, even though we weren't related..imagine that! I was pretty stoked on the idea of having someone actually like me, but to love me was something I could only hope and wait for. Silly girl I was, and still am.

I must have forgotten the birthmark of un-lovable I have burned into me. I have had boyfriend after boyfriend and never one who has fallen under the spell of love...barely capable of saying like. But wait, isn't this supposed to be my time, the time when I can surround myself only with people that love and care for me?

I'm a girl..a woman...all alone..in my late-twenties..still without love. Still don't know what its like to be 'had' to have someone feel incomplete without me. I still don't know what its like to feel protected, wanted, belonging, like I matter.

I have loved, even those like Natasha who I knew didn't return the feeling. The funny thing about love is that its incomplete without the return of it from someone, without the reciprocal.

I imagine I will die feeling un-loved. Lying cold in my casket, presumed to be void of anything, I will still have the stone that lies where my heart was; rough jagged edges, dark like onyx, dry like Saharan sand, and sadly unloved.

Oh btw..I love you

I Wish I Was Eternally

Basically, I wished that you love me.

I wish that you needed me.

I wish that you knew when I said 2 sugars, actually I meant 3.

I wish that without me your heart would break.

I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake.

I wish that without me you couldn't eat.

I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep.



Some other soul wrote this, whom I've never met, yet we share this emptiness.

Appreciation is earned, even by yourself

Maybe I appreciate things more, because most things are things I've never had before.

Currently a contractor in part because I crave my freedom (another something missing from my childhood), I have no medical insurance. I know, I know, quelle horreur, such a shame that as an American who pays about 30% of my income in taxes each year I'm not covered under some sort of plan, at the very least for emergencies. I mean I have paid so much to the Social Security Administration that I will never get to see in my lifetime, and as a citizen who is proven to be a hard-working contributor to NY state and America, you'd think I would see some restitution. Ha!

However, this post is actually a happy one. Its to highlight that even as a paid contractor with no insurance, that when I contract a serious illness and need emergency services, I actually have the cash in my bank account, and even a little credit card just in case my cash flow is funny. This isn't about gloating, its about the sincere pride and gratitude I feel for having the ability to pay a $700 medical Bill at the time of my visit without a sweat.

I remember eating powdered milk as a child, scraping loose change up in my dorm as a Freshman, only able to find enough for a small McDonald's fry and hamburger, living in a hotel for 5 days at 20 years old a few weeks after my undergrad graduation. I visited my first dentist at 17, cocoa butter and aspirin fixed every ailment growing up, roach infested houses I slept with tissue in my ears and nose while living in.

I appreciate the hell out of all that I have now. I appreciate the brain G-d gave me and the spirit to never stop fighting.

Tonight and forever I am grateful