l.o.l. :)

over the past few years i’ve observed myself becoming more and more reserved in most social settings.

i used to cry all the time but i honestly think now i’ve cried once in the past 2 years.

it seems like all my emotions went into hiding. i never express sadness or anger. i only express happiness when i’m under an influence.

i adopt silliness as a way to manage my omnipresent awkward, out-of-place-ness and buffer my real feelings.

yet i simultaneously am that chick who’s always so uptight that she can never seem to just enjoy the moment–my head is in the clouds.

i’m not myself.

along the way when i was making one of those “wrong turns” erykah badu talks about, i lost my personality somewhere. not my self. i’m still me. but me in hiding.

so the culmination of the above results in me feeling like i’ve erected some impenetrable, transparent brick bubble inside of which i live my life.

i’m afraid to feel too strongly about anything.

certitude hasn’t done anything for me for a long while.

i can’t remember the last time i’ve felt anything strongly–except fear. i am constantly more, or less anxious. i am afraid to open up.

i wonder how to rectify this.

sigh

i wish i had it in me to write anonymously, i’m sure i’d write freer.

ah, welp.  so i have a couple things on my mind.

ONE

i’m so mainstream.  i feel a since of guilty self-defense when i talk to my radical or even more academia-immersed friends…the closest to the “news” i watch is the colbert report and my multi-lingual BBC twitter feeds…i no longer dream of a world where everyone is free, just focused on creating a reality in which i can be [free]…

i am admittedly ignorant of most things, and the most intellectually stimulating conversation i can offer is a well-reasoned explanation for my apathy.  we [where "we" are the many versions of me] hope it is only temporary.  in fact, we will it to be.

i mean…life is cycles…everyone has their cocoon modes, where they insulate themselves from the world to marinate in their own selves to become the next best version of self…right?

oh look at me on that emo neo soul new age shit…this is what too much paulo coelho-reading, e. badu–listening to & too many nights at the spoken word joint gets you.

i believe everything i’m saying though.

TWO

let me count my blessings…i am in school in a subject which i could not be more excited about [WELL...except language(s), black people, women, writing, struggle, etc]…and i am doing well…i’m in the city where i believed my life was waiting for me to find it…i have my mother’s love…i am employed in a job that is exactly what i need right now…i have a home that is truly my safe space…i’m in good health…i’m in good spirits…my biggest problems in life have to do with paying a bill or 2 late and taking out my trash when necessary.  i have some trips to look forward to…i have old friends who love me and new friends who may one day…  AND i just discovered i have  free HBO

so, all is well.

THREE

love this book  [song yet sung, by james mcbride]

remembering me

sometimes in life i find myself wondering who the fuck is this isis chick, anyway…and i have to remind myself…

love jones is one of my favorite movies and probably always will be.  and if i had money to burn, i’d buy every season DVD of girlfriends, felicity, and a different world.

i’m from a detroit that no longer exists and probably never will.

i love reese’s cups.  and fresh baked chocolate cookies. with walnuts. and vanilla soy milk.

i have a curly hair although i like to wear it straight sometimes.

i am not sure whether or not i believe in “true love” but i want it.

sometimes nothing is more fun to me than getting fucked up, talking too loud and being a ridiculous flirt.  sometimes i want to do nothing more than sit in silence, or lie on the floor with a book or an open journal.

i love my mama.  i miss my granny.  i miss a lot of people and a lot of things.

i’m opinionated but never imposing.  which results in sometimes not working well in groups cuz i’m just a little too laid back.  i love kids.  i love people.  although they get on my fucking nerves sometimes.

sometimes nothing is more soothing than a night drive with the quiet storm on the radio.  or a soy chai latte on a day after i’ve smoked.

i smoke–that’s new.

i’m changing…into what?  i dunno…

NaPoWriMo? [now i'm only 6 poems behind]

I used to go looking for love.

Everywhere.

I found it once, in a space between two teeth,

in a boy who should have been a man.

love left,

it couldn’t linger in a city so depressed.

I left with it.

I haven’t thought about love since.

sometimes I think I feel it,

on sunny days,

when I am driving,

and I feel the sun on my forearm.

Sometimes I smell its memory,

when I recall jasmine scented summers;

night skies pregnant with the potential for romance–

or at least my mind was.

I think I tasted love,

recently,

In a car,

In Mississippi,

it tasted like a man should smell,

sweet, strong, perfect.

Maybe I will never taste another love as sweet.

Or maybe that isn’t how love tastes at all

I used to write love so many letters

now they lie scattered across my room,

lining the bottoms of drawers.

The ink has faded,

I can no longer read what I wanted to say to love,

but it doesn’t matter

love has never written back.

I long to hear love’s voice but I never have,

I used to sing love songs

but I only ever heard the tease of my own voice echoing back in the dark

I wonder

if I follow these footsteps love left on my heart,

where I will find it,

in a gap between teeth,

in the seat of a car,

or somewhere equally unlikely.

I know I will never look for love again,

or at least I don’t believe I will…

Love has left me hangin

too many times,

and I’m too old

to be playin hide and go seek,

and I won’t be thinking about love

anymore

Cuz love

damn sure ain’t

thinkin about me.

seeing erykah live last night got me in a dilla type mood…it was crazy to me…when she shouted him out…there was no applause. i know he would get more love in detroit and maybe new york than anywhere else but…i’m like damn…NOBODY in miami, who paid MONEY to see both erykah badu and common live, knows who dilla is or that he produced at least 15 of your favorite songs? i’m not a musical elitist by any means, i’m not jay dee’s biggest fan,as a matter of fact it was a non-detroiter who first made me aware of who he was…but still i was very shocked by that. even my friends that i was with were like “huh?” and had no idea who he was either…

it’s crazy…i never heard a dilla beat i didn’t feel. all his music is just so fuckin soulful…i’m not a hip-hop head, i’m not the type of person who just sits around listening to instrumentals…but i listen to his…i actually feel proud of the fact that he’s from the d, like there’s some type of special brand of soulfulness that can only be found in Detroit…and every time i look into his catalogue, i find a new song that i didn’t know he produced and i’m like…yo… if it wasn’t for him would i listen to hip-hop at all? i mostly knew the newer shit he did…you know, erykah, common, slum village, d’angelo…but, for example, i just found out that he produced “find a way” by tribe called quest and “runnin away” by the pharcyde…and my mind is blown a-GAIN like damn…i feel like it’s no exaggeration when people say shit like “Dilla IS hip-hop”…especially when i feel like he greatly influenced the only other producers whose names i care to know: hi-tek, 9th wonder, and kanye… and it’s crazy to me…i just read some magazine–can’t remember if it was vibe, xxl, or the source–talking about his estate, and how his mom and daughters are going through crazy financial drama cuz they can’t access his money…what a shame… apparently common doesn’t use the “n-word” anymore, at least in his performances. at first it was kinda jarring when the words i knew didn’t match the words he was singing…and he used to use mad profanity, i feel like “bitch nigga” was one of his favorites…

me and “nigga” have a funny lil relationship…right now i’m at the point where i try to evade it as much as possible, but still use it when necessary to articulate my true sentiments. but i think language really frames how one conceptualizes life…and in my truest heart i don’t think i should believe “niggas” exist.

but it’s hard. cuz i’m so “black.”

my wakeup call this morning was from my boy…we were talking about his relationship with his gf, and i was asking him if religious differences had caused any problems, because he’s muslim and his girl is christian…and he was saying that for him, before any religious choice, is his blackness. i feel very similarly about myself. but my blackness, my conception of it, and my relationship to it is, to a great extent, the basis of my cosmology and subsequently my morality. i’ve tried not to make my beliefs something that imposes limits on me or my life…but i am who i am…and i like myself…at the same time though, sometimes i feel entirely too ethnocentric. i feel most comfortable around other “consciously black”, black people. i don’t mean “conscious” in the spoken word, natural hair, incense burning sense…but i mean people whose blackness is omnipresent. or people who choose to be black. people for whom blackness is a way of life. for myself, i should be able to define “blackness” and when i sit down and think about it, i will…i’m not talking about any type of innate characteristic. not like black people have soul or some natural african rhythm or have better features, or not shit like that…it’s like some implicit assumption of community, collective identity and collective future…and i realize that is idealistic but this is why–though i wouldn’t say my blackness is my religion, it has a spiritual aspect to it. i wanna see my people succeed, i wanna see my people fly. not at the expense of anyone else, not because i believe we are supreme to other people, not because i believe in the purity of our race or our essence or that we are a race or have an essence,

but just due to the particularities of our circumstances…we have become an amorphous “people”…most of the people i love the most in the world are black…because my family is black, and i grew up in black neighborhoods and went to black schools…and that influenced my speech and i love the way(s) we talk…and there are still so many factors and infrastructures working against black success, and black self-actualization…and i’m struggling against those things… i think blackness is like any other god…for those who believe in it, it’s real. for those who don’t, it’s a coincidence of birth that doesn’t have to impact their lives any more than they allow it to. and that’s cool too.

talking to my boy made me feel real good though…it was a good conversation, i feel like we both encouraged each other. i would never have thought we would still be friends…we met in 2000 at presidential classroom…kept in and out of touch, and then saw each other again in 2006 (damn has it been that long?) for like a few hours when i was in texas for a protest with a van-load of volunteers and he let us all take showers in his dorm…i’m happy that we’re still friends.

i was talking to him about dating and meeting men…

random shit: my thighs: i love how they look when i’m standing up. especially now that they’re getting a lil bit more toned. so i like to wear shorts, skirts, and dresses…but i hate how they look when i’m sitting or laying down…LOL…like if i catch a glimpse, i think to myself:ugh. and then i have to stop myself. to be honest, guys telling me they like my thighs is the only reason i ever developed an appreciation for them :-/

music: lately i been really revisiting the following artists/groups: jagged edge, erykah badu, ginuwine, common, les nubians, the dream, r. kelly (i know, i know), jill scott, musiq, floetry… i really need to give papertrail a real listen though… i’m currently infatuated with “rockin that shit” by the dream. i think i already discussed this. yesterday they played it at one of the LONG ASS intermissions between artists…i had already said that i really wanted them to play that song. when they finally did, I SCREAMED…lol…and started dancing…that’s my SHIT though… i really like the dream. the critique i hear most often is that all his songs…sound like all his other songs…but since i liked all the other songs…i don’t find this problematic as yet.

talked to dude i met the other night at the club…we had a pretty interesting conversation about religion…i love when people converse about complex topics completely in ebonics and slang. this is a big turn on for me. but anyway…it was all good…and then this dude tried to invite himself to the brunch i explicitly said i was having with my girls…that was a big turn off. i don’t care if you comin at me at friend mode, or dating mode…unless we really cool, don’t invite yourself to do shit with me…i know how to say “i’m doing x,y,z,…you should come.” if i don’t say that, don’t be on some “me too shit”. UGH. anyway…other than that he seemed like a cool dude. but old. i think the chances of us being friends are very slim though–because of how i originally came at him–and since i wouldn’t date him i’m not sure if anything is going to pop off. i can’t tell if the main reason i couldn’t date him is because of his age, or because of his lack of height…besides the fact that i’m not tryna date right now anyway.

man…i’m so infatuated with black men from the south…i know my love for detroit dudes must still exist but i think it’s hiding…i like chicago guys too…but it’s them southern accents…GA, the sip, texas, louisiana, florida…so pretty to my ears. it’s funny how you pick up shit without even knowing it. i think the way i speak has gotten more country…but i also hang around a lot of people who learned english as a 2nd language…so i find myself using the present tense more often. in general i use “i am” + gerunds [present continuous?] to describe present tense things, unnecessarily so…but now i find myself using the good ol present simple a lot more often. i keep thinking about love lately…because of mamyrah, and because i’m a romantic, and because i haven’t been this single in a long time…i just want some realness…ultimately just someone who would try to make some shit work with me… but i’m not on some woe as me or hungry/thirsty shit at all. i just know that this is something important to me and i refuse to get into any more situations where i see from jump that shit ain’t finna be about shit, but go with the flow anyway.

i wish i could fuck every girl in the world

i very recently said some things about drake (pictured above with [his mentor?] weezy) that could be construed to be haterous.  i take all the shit back.  i’m officially on this nigga nuts.  or more specifically, i’m on his voice’s nuts. if that were possible.  his voice…makes me wish i could stick my tongue down his throat just so i could lick his voice.  umm…just kidding.

naw. but foreal. i’m big on voices.  and his is sexy as hell.  especially combined with his lil witty lines, smooth flow, and cockiness.

so anyway, i accidentally bought a weezy mixtape.  and that’s where i happened to hear the following gem, with the same title of this post “i wish i could fuck every girl in the world.”

i honestly don’t know how i feel about it.  i feel like i should think it’s demeaning to women or something.  but i don’t.  not that i carefully listened to the words or anything.  and i love the beat, it seems like a fun summer song.  perfect for “tell you n your friends, to get with me and my friends” type get-togethers that will result in inebriation and shared pleasure for all involved.

but the concept made me think of gender and sexuality.  in a heterosexist framework, if a guy smashes multiple women at once it makes him look good.  if him and his boys all smash the same female (that’s some gay shit), the males involved just made the most of a situation and the woman is a “sto”, a woman who lets multiple niggas run up in her and bust one.

that’s annoying.  but it’s hard for me to get worked up about it cuz i’m not into multiple penetration, nor do i have gangbang fantasies, and i also wouldn’t be with my girls trying to fuck the same dude with them all at the same time.  but there are other women who may find either or both of those situations enjoyable and should feel free to engage in whatever type of orgiastic activities they choose, without being stigmatized.

i do not wish i could fuck every guy or girl in the world.  but i wish sex outside of some societally accepted relationship or the illusion of it, was more acceptable.  or respected, even.

i know, i’m wishing for a lot.

ok also on my mistakenly purchased wayne mixtape is some song ciara singing, about how she lookin for a trapstar.  it’s modified inner rat bitch inside me that feels that shit!   don’t blame me, society made me this way!

seriously.  to be a trapstar rather than your run of the mill corner boy, means you are somewhat intelligent and have attained some level of success.  and any modicum of success achieved in turn requires a certain level of drive.  these are attractive qualities.  on TOP of that i’m attracted to black men, who have some type of hoodness to them, and wear “urban wear” as opposed to all this “grown and sexy”, carlton-from-fresh-prince lookin attire.  i mean that’s cute to me too, but a guy who can rock some crisp jeans or sweats, a crisp tee, polo, hoodie, nice sneakers, and a fresh fitted…would get it all day.  the excessive jewelry is…unnecessary, whether fake or genuine, but i guess you take the good with the bad.

so i guess i’m on a trapstar hunt!

i’m kinda kidding.

amanda diva is my homegirl

I’m back.

It’s 5:56 and i’m up. Not sleeping because my mind keeps running in the same circles, thinking the same things about the same thoughts i’ve been recycling for days now.

There’s just so much.

For 10 days I lived.

I don’t have pictures.

I was so anxious to leave Miami that I convinced my sister to leave for the sip right after we came home from Tropix and packed. Hit the road at 5:20 a.m. EST. Arrived to Byram around 6 CST.

I have 3000 more miles on my car now than I did the Saturday before last.

Alabama was some of the prettiest driving. The section of Florida that lines the turnpike and I-75 is very uneventful.

Alabama is pretty too look at, even on a gray day.It was spring.  Trees had blossoms.  The houses were pretty.

Aside from being cleaner, Mobile, Alabama is all the worst parts of the east side (of detroit) magnified. the hoodness.  the desolation.  coulda been that i was tired of drivin, but i thought it was some bullshit.

There is a stretch on the way from Mobile, AL to Jackson, MS where there is no highway. You just have to drive down a street. A regular ass street, that has traffic lights and stop signs. And I cussed out Alabama the whole way, for being so behind that they didn’t have an interstate.

But Alabama was pretty though.

I was so excited just to cross the state line into Mississippi. Mississippi is a trip. I see why Nina Simone had to write a song about it. It’s not like going back into time. It’s like an alternate universe. Where 21 year old Black men get high underneath the trees and the starlight and tell you what it’s like to buss a deer wide open with a shot gun, and how good deer sausages are. And dudes that look hard as hell come to Karaoke night, and the song they sing is “Put On” while girls in their entourage pop on the floor around them, and the next act is an old white guy with a faded baseball cap singing some country song about Indiana, that you’ve never heard before. Where guys brag to you about how they either look like T.I. Or Plies based on how they tip their fitteds, and buy you patron shots because they can tell you’re from out of town, cuz you got a whole different swag.

My first night in the sip I was overwhelmed with it all. Went to a late-night fish fry, where a girl my age had been frying fish for hours non-stop, for her boyfriend and his friends. It was so gender segregated that it caught me off guard. I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere and all the women talked in one room while the men smoked and drank in another. In the meantime the 8 year old daughter was up way too late for it to be a school night, while 20 something men around her blew weed smoke in her face, rapping along to music videos talkin about “gutta bitch”es and “bricks. All white bricks.”

Aloud I said “Damn. That’s sad.”

I wonder how this girl is gon grow up, and if her definition of love will be a guy loving her for being his gutta bitch.

I wasn’t tryna judge though.

Some short dude with a real cute face and pretty eyes called himself flirting with me, I guess. I was not at all in the mood for it. I’m very picky about how niggas interact with me in group settings. If I come at you on some teehee-in shit, or lookin like I’m thirsty, that’s one thing. But if I’m just being regular, drinkin with you the same way your niggas are—don’t try to turn that into a opportunity to get your dick wet, cuz I’m not interested.

The fish was good as hell.  I love catfish.  Even if it is a bottom feeder.

Underlining all my thoughts, I was thinking about “the youngin”*. I felt overwhelmed by 6 months of anticipation as soon as I saw the “Welcome to Jackson” sign. Things didn’t go exactly the way I wanted to but I saw him. Seein him for the first time since September did not give me any rush of feelings except relief. It was like: finally.

Out of the way parking lot car sex ensued, after some talkin and chillin. I didn’t have that “best ever” feeling because I was not entirely pleased with the scenario and I was also exhausted, but it was still really good and I felt totally relaxed afterwards and ready for some more.

Day 2 updates to follow tomorrow.

*best sex I ever had. Hands down.

purging oneself of negative energy & paulo coelho

The Cruelty Exercise
Every time a thought comes to mind that makes
you feel bad about yourself – jealousy, self pity,
envy, hatred, and so on – do the following:
Dig the nail of your index finger into the cuticle of
the thumb of the same hand until it becomes quite
painful. Concentrate on the pain: it is a physical
reflection of the suffering you are going through
spiritually. Ease the pressure only when the cruel
thought has gone.
Repeat this as many times as necessary until the
thought has left you, even if this means digging
your fingernail into your thumb over and over. Each
time, it will take longer for the cruel thought to
return, and eventually it will disappear altogether,
so long as you do not fail to perform the exercise
every time it comes to mind.

the above is an excerpt from

the pilgramage, by paulo coelho.

this book is really interesting if you can dig self-help books, “new age spirituality”, or…believe in magic? anyway,  according to him, it is a truthful, abridged account of his journey on the path of santiago de compostela.  the book contains various exercises that are supposed to help one along the path of spiritual growth.

when i explained “the cruelty exercise” to a friend of mine, she was disturbed because she saw it as a form of self-flagellation.  but for me, it was extremely useful.  people who are generally positive and in a good state of mind may not see the necessity.  but i have to confess, that there is a lot of negative self-talk occurring in my brain.  and i’ve been so abusive to myself in my own thoughts for so long, that i really have to work hard to pay attention to catch it.  but this exercise helps, because causing myself a very mild physical pain 1) makes the negative thought goes away and 2) reminds me that just as i’m causing myself physical pain by pressing my nail into my cuticle, i cause myself psychic pain when i tell myself that i can’t do what i want to do.

so i don’t see it as self-flagellation at all, but really basic negative association.  negative thinking causes physical pain, i will think negatively less frequently until i eventually stop.   i think this is the point in the conversation where people would throw in a reference about pavlov and his dog(s).

i have been engaging in entirely too much negative self-talk lately.  so i will definitely be re-employing the cruelty exercise in my life.

back to paulo…he is both greatly heralded and greatly criticized.  i’ve definitely felt inspired by his books, and always feel that my heart is lighter after reading them.  but his critics call him a fraud, hypocrite, liar.    i prefer to reserve my judgment.  however, you can go to any book store, any where in the WORLD and you will find a catalogue of his works, in multiple languages.  you gotta respect that.

the alchemist is his most well-known book, and might genuinely be my favorite book in life.   other of my favorite books by him are

by the river piedra i sat down and wept,

veronika decides to die

the warrior of the light

he also has some books free for download at:  http://piratecoelho.wordpress.com/  to find the english versions, scroll all the way to the end of the list.

A warrior of light knows that certain moments repeat themselves.
He often finds himself faced by the same problems and situations, and
seeing these difficult situations return, he grows depressed, thinking that he is incapable of making any progress in life.
‘I’ve been through all this before,’ he says to his heart.
‘Yes, you have been through all this before,’ replies his heart. ‘But you have
never been beyond it.’
Then the warrior realises that these repeated experiences have but one
aim: to teach him what he does not want to learn.

–paulo coelho, the warrior of the light

being selfish

two close friends of mine are going through things with their significant others and i just cannot engage those conversations or those thoughts right now.

i still feel upset for so many reasons.  it’s not the dude, himself.  it’s knowing i got fucked over, and not even knowing the full extent to how, and being clueless about how or why it even happened.  it bothers me because i’m not a dumb person, nor was i acting in an unrealistic, fairytale manner.  huhhhhh i don’t know.  it takes me to a dark, sensitive place where i completely question my ability to trust myself (which actually doesn’t make sense, because in this case trusting myself led me to the correct conclusion), and the ability to ever have a healthy, romantic relationship…or what is it about my energy that is attracting this type of bullshit to me, & what kind of fundamental changes are necessary so that i project a different energy, and is there any such thing as a healthy relationship anyway,  would i rather end up alone or in a fucked up relationship, etc, etc, etc…

i just feel so tired of everything.  i’m trying not to dwell on anything…

i don’t know what would make me feel better.

i’m trying to push myself to just keep working on the things i’m working on…but where is that light at the end of the tunnel to assure me that if i just endure this time of darkness, i’ll eventually see the daylight?

sometimes i just want to crawl into a hole…because i am that tired, and that ambivalent about everything.

but i definitely cannot listen to people in their relationship angst.  if you’re happy, stick with it.  if you’re not happy but you don’t want to leave, then stay.  if you’re unhappy and you don’t wanna stay, then leave.  if you’re unsure, then wait til you’ve come to a decision.

that’s the only contribution i can make to those conversations.  and no one wants to hear that.

i feel so tired.  even sleep is not a release because i either have a crazy ass dream, or when i wake up i realize nothing is any better than it was when i closed my eyes.

lol @ me.  being depressed is so cliche.

i guess things could always get worse.  but i sure hope they get better…

in other news, i’m back to celibacy.  i guess i’m back to the 15 year old me who thinks sex should co-exist with other things, like trust, honesty, committment, respect, fun, romance, attraction, friendship…

i feel like in every day life, sex goes hand-in-hand with objectification.  to borrow from audre lourde, i think sex and sexualization of other people is so pornographic and obscures the fact that the object of your attraction is a PERSON, and that they are more than a vagina/penis/mouth/anus, and more than their packaging…but this is another *person* you are immersing yourself in.

i haven’t had sooooooooooooooo much sex, but i definitely think i’ve learned the function of sex purely for enjoyment.  i’m hoping there is a higher function of sex (other than pro-creation) and i would like to learn that higher function, but i’m working from the assumption that when the situation presents itself for me to learn that higher lesson, i will recognize it.

until then…”no entry”.

but when i get some $ i may buy a couple new toys

freaking out

i had an internal panic attack at the Miramar Library, during which i came very close to tears. the catalyst was my next steps forward in the whole applying to grad school process.

i need more recommendations. and i fell into a well of self-doubt. would the professors i ask remember me? would they respond favorably? were their e-mail addresses still accurate? would they respond at all? what if lacking a single recommendation stood between me and my acceptance into graduate school this fall? how could i write the perfect letter to keep busy people reading and willing to assist me?

it was just a complete lack of trust in my ability or worthiness of seeing success…

which i think was precipitated by recent developments in my personal life.

i have to vent.

i’m very frustrated. the guy i was dating turned out to be a complete asshole. and while i can only trip so hard (i mean, it was just a couple of months and it’s not like i lost myself in trying to maintain a relationship with him), i’m still like what the fuck? it’s not like i threw myself at him and said please love me, please be with me, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
obviously i have in mind an ideal relationship i would like to have. but i never tried to create that with him. all i wanted from him was honesty, and mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. and if from that an emotional bond or friendship arose i was fine with that, but i never tried to force it, as far as i can judge. all i asked for was honesty. i never asked for exclusivity. just honesty. if we’re just fucking, we’re just fucking. if we’re friends with benefits, we’re friends with benefits. if we’re just dating to have a good time, we’re doing that. i told him from the beginning, i wasn’t even looking for a relationship, definitely not a serious one, and definitely not an exclusive one.
i wasn’t needy. i didn’t ask him to do shit for me. i wasn’t calling him every 5 seconds, or asking him why he didn’t call me every 5 seconds. if he went out, i didn’t get jealous. when i went out, i didn’t try to make him go everywhere i went. we got into a couple arguments. mostly over bruised egos and hurt feelings. i thought that was kinda normal, because it was never over anything extreme. and especially since he left me with the illusion that he was trying to be serious, i thought it was part of the process of becoming emotionally involved with someone.
wrong.
instead, it was all some bullshit that i will probably never understand, because i don’t care enough to try to understand.

and like i said, i’m not overly upset about it because 1) it didn’t last that long and 2) i truly did learn a lot from the experience, and because of that i can say i’m better off for it.  and not only that, but i really did enjoy a lot of the times so…

what i’m most bothered by are the following things

1) i hate when people do things to hurt other people, for no reason.  he honestly did not have to lie.  he could have been truthful and we could have had the exact same relationship.  or maybe we wouldn’t have, but that’s my choice.  what right does a person have to try to force you to be in a situation that you would never be in, if you had a clearer picture of what was going on?

2) i just moved to miami.  i have way more acquaintances than i would have, through my friend who has lived here for 3-4 years. but i don’t have many friends (this is another source of frustration for me, which i’m probably going to vent about later).  so me and him started talking, he seemed like a decent guy, doing things with his life…he led me on with the whole “well no matter what, i want to be your friend line” and since i need friends i was like oh ok, this could be cool…and i basically just opened myself up to us having some kind of relationship.  because he said that was what he wanted.  that’s the part i don’t get.  i was totally 100% open to having a purely sexual relationship.  he isn’t the 1st person i’ve had that with, i’ve done it before and it’s worked out just fine.  no feelings to get hurt, just fun when it’s convenient.  this is actually the situation that i wanted.  i don’t get why he would put effort into convincing me that he wanted more and was willing to work for more…just to insult me and my intelligence at the end…sigh.  i could keep going down this road…

but it’s only been like 3 weeks past the point where i thought to myself:  hmmm…perhaps this isn’t going to work? and started doubting his character.  so…other people stay past that point for months.  years.  i mean shit, i have.

so, i’m proud of myself.

but i guess i take a little extra offense…yeah, facebook is involved.  so basically he did some things to his page…which would make any logical person be like “oh wtf.”  perhaps he thought i was so gone off him, i was past logic.  *wrong*  but then you know how people are quick to say “it’s just facebook.”…um…yeah.

oh wait before that, there was a the v-day fiasco.  that was when blatant insult occurred.  then there was more blatant insult via facebook.  then there was further blatant insult when he tried to act like everything was normal (????) and then tried to run game (I really wanted to see you–sigh) and then when i was like yeah, no, then…he tried to play me like i was dumb (insert: it’s just facebook)…and i know i didn’t really give any details.  but i give my word…it was all some super insulting, bitch nigga shit.

the insulting part is just that he would think that i have such low self-esteem that i would just excuse/overlook/continue to accept/welcome that shit.  it’s 1 thing to disrespect me…but to act in a manner that presupposes i have no respect for myself???

sigh.

sooooo i told him to pretend i was dead.  i hope he does.

then i’m more generally annoyed with dating-ness in general…i dunno why but lately, every male that was ever or could ever have been anything to me has been trying to reconnect.   and i’m like why.   and i just have a negative attitude in general.  there is 1 guy…i would honestly say i had like a “magical” night with him (Could have been the liquor).  no sex but well…yeah.  and in general i thought he was a cool guy.  fun, polite, respectable, intelligent, charismatic…not the most attractive guy ever, but cute…and we are supposed to go out soon…and i feel turned off.  because i’m like…why?  and then to be honest, you know how gossip is…apparently he screwed over a friend of friend…so that makes it look worse.  i wish people were honest.  like i would be cool just being cool with him.  not having any type of sexual or romantic thing, just flirting and having fun.  sigh.

i also feel generally annoyed with the social aspect of my life.  i’m just not in the mood to be around anyone who can’t recognize, appreciate, and celebrate the good in me.  i know some people would say that’s setting a really high standard.  well…it’s mine.  i’m just not in the mood.  petty things that are easily overlook-able annoy the shit out of me right now, yet i don’t trust myself to confront anything and more than that, i just don’t give enough of a fuck to do so.  if you want to be inconsiderate, i don’t care.  i will ensure that i’m not around you and don’t have to encounter your lack of consideration.  same goes for judgment.  don’t need it, don’t want it, would never tell you to change, all i will say is see you later.

same for negative energy.  some people are like sooo negative.  to the point where you get the impression that they must be unhappy with themselves if they can never allow the next person to be happy.

same for people who appear to me to always be playing a role, always be “on”, or be so myopic that they can only repeat varied versions of the exact same conversations.

i’m just really not in the mood.  so.  i’m in cocoon mode.  where the only people i interact with are those whom i absolutely positively want to interact with, in the manner and at the frequency that i feel most comfortable.

i feel stuck in a rut, but i just have to ride out this particular rut by doing what it takes to get out of it (the grad school thing)…and i’ll probably feel much better.

another thing: selfishly or not, doing for others often makes me feel better.  so i’m looking for some tutoring places to volunteer for…i really do miss working with young adults, even though they are the messiest age to work with, because they are so all over the place.  maybe that’s why i like working with them; i relate.

so.  once i start that, i’m sure i’ll feel happier.  i also started going to Universal Truth Center.  I still am not completely 100% comfortable with some of the things said, but I have felt better about myself and more motivated both times that i left the service.  So yeah…look at that.  isis is going to church! lol.

going to the gym has made me feel good about myself too.  i’m going to an aerobics class tomorrow night. but i think for me, the strength training part is going to be more important than cardio because i’m not just trying to sweat fat away; i’m tryna make my legs, stomach, back, and arms stronger.

man i feel so much better after getting all that out.

my mom is so awesome.  she doesn’t even have to tell me when she’s prayed for me, because i feel it.  and i call her and tell her and she says “you know what, i sure did.”  i love her!

ok i have a totally new subject on my mind.  but that will be another post.

sigh

i’m blessed.  i’m good.