putting myself out there.

Sometimes I get in these modes, where I don’t even want to give voice to my thoughts because I don’t want to acknowledge my vulnerability.

But…

I want him to love me. I don’t know who I’m trying to fool. I’m not all the way “gone” yet. I’m still waiting to get to a certain point where I can feel like I’m justified in this desire. Right now it’s just a pleasant possibility.

In reality, I’m not going to put myself in the position where I act in the expectation that the fantasy I’ve created will come true with time. Not that I’ve ever really done that—I came close to it but then I soon realized that shit was not about to pop and deaded the situation. It was depressing for a few weeks but not devastating. We’re cool now.

He says that at this point, he doesn’t see himself loving me. But that that could change.

Out of context that could really sound asshole-ish, but in context it just sounded like the truth.

And I have a deep appreciation for the truth.

I guess it’s come to the point where I feel like I should take a stand. It’s funny because I wouldn’t know how to define specific actions or a specific feeling as “love”. But I do know that I want to be loved, and deserved to be…so if that’s not what he sees himself doing then…I have to keep it moving. The thought of that makes me sad, because I was really feeling him. Thinking about ending things makes me so sad. Because I feel an attachment to him, because I like sex with him, because of what I thought we could be to each other, but mostly just because I really feel good spending time with him. I don’t feel like things are forced, it actually feels really organic. But…I don’t know what he feels.

If people were static creatures, this situation would be all good. Because it would be fine for me to just keep enjoying his company, enjoying the affection, the sex, the conversation, etc…

But people are not static; we’re dynamic.

And if I’m spending so much time with a person, thinking about a person, having sex with a person, talking through issues with a person…I want it to be because this is the process of building a foundation towards a meaningful relationship. Not that things have to last forever. And if you asked me how to define the relationship that I want, I wouldn’t necessarily have a clear answer. But…after awhile, I definitely want commitment.

And if that’s not where he’s at, I get that. I mean we’ve been talking since October, and I still feel like we don’t really know each other. For my part, I was really ambivalent about him for most of that time. I enjoyed being around him most of the time, but I didn’t feel an investment in maintaining a presence in each other’s lives. I can’t even say that I feel a great investment in that now, but I at least am open to trying or seeing if that can be a possibility.

I really, honestly, truly, have no idea how he feels.

Thinking about it makes my stomach hurt, because I feel like he’s not going to be on the same page and it makes me feel sick to feel like I’ve invested so much thought and emotion into the situation lately, just for it to result in nothing.

It’s not even emotion and thought in him per se, it’s just…when I met him…I was not at ALL looking for a relationship. When I met him, I didn’t even really look at him. Even like after we had had sex a few times…I of course knew what he looked like, but like…I didn’t have an appreciation for his features. I basically assessed that he was “alright” enough to fuck, and proceeded to do so.

And I feel bad, because even though I want to justify it, and say that its’ a phase most people go through at least once, & say “hey, well he had agency in the situation too…he didn’t have go be down for it”… I still feel bad that initially I just wanted to use him for my enjoyment. I mean one could argue he was “using” me too, but…anyway…

That’s just the space I was in at the time. I was not open to trusting someone, or making adjustments to accommodate someone new, or getting to know anybody, or having to do relationship maintenance…none of that appealed to me. And my trust level of was at negative 100 to the third power. I just wanted to have fun.

So for me to bust a complete 180, and go from the space where the idea of a relationship made me nauseous, to where I am now: feeling like the next relationship I’m in (with or without him) is going to be some shit I believe will last and is worth my while, based on a solid foundation…I had to do a whole lot of emotional rewiring. And though I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to do so, that shit has really been exhausting.

Exhale.

But. I’ve grown a lot in the past few months. And if nothing else, I am genuinely thankful for that.

…I don’t know what I’m going to do…There have been conversations. Possibilities have been considered (maybe we should just be friends). Discussed. Discarded. The limbo of uncertainty has continued. And it’s old to me now.

I really hope no one feels the need to give me advice. I’m not asking for any. I am 90% sure I don’t want or need it.

ANYWAY…

I feel sick and cold, so I’m gonna hopefully watch a significant amount of “The Other Boelyn Girl” on Netflix Instant before I doze off.

onto the physical realm

i didn’t wanna say this but…

i think my love of chai…

has overtaken *dun duh DUHHH* my love of reese’s cups.  i know.  i can’t believe it either.

maybe one day i can get paid for blogging by doing strategic product placements!

chai is really amazing.  especially with just a little vanilla soy milk.  mmmmhmm.

ok i now have an epic-length “to do” list so i guess i should get to that.

i hope someone reads this and comments because i REALLY need music suggestions…listening to the radio is toxic.

songs, artists, albums, podcasts…please send them my way.

in the mean time, i’m groovin to the old favorites:

definitely not a conclusive list, but les nubians, erykah badu, floetry, jill scott, musiq, & frankie beverly and maze, coldplay…i’m always in the mood for them.

*note to self:  given that maze & frankie beverly are probably my favorite group of all time…i really need to go see them in concert ASAP

reboot

With this blog, I hope to accomplish a few things:

1. Self-expression that leads to mental, emotional, and spiritual clarity

2. Hone a particular set of writing skills

3. Get into the habit of writing every day

4. Share my thoughts and myself with certain friends of mine, which would hopefully lead to exchanging thoughts and ideas…because you can get a lot out of a simple conversation.

But first…

I have to get this off my chest:

I never really write about my spirituality. But since I just had a great prayer session in the bathtub, that’s today’s subject.

I am really really thankful right now. I just prayed. And it felt so good. Some people would find it surprising that I would say this. Because I don’t go to church (reasons: ask me why I can give you plenty).

Because I believe in human rights, and gay people, bi people, the incarcerated, alcoholics, drug addicts, prostitutes, racists, atheists, extremists, polyamorists, pedophiles, rapists, people who have committed murder, refugees, illegal aliens, the illiterate, people with mental and/or emotional “disorders” and transgendered people are all “human” to me.*

Because I believe that there are many paths to “God”, truth, goodness, enlightenment, peace, love, joy, whatever you want to call it…and some paths are trod by many, and other paths are only walked down by the one who is creating it as she walks…but in the end we all get to the same place.

But I do believe in “God”. And in the world my God created, the smallest particle of an atom is equally as important as the biggest star of all the galaxies, and my God does not exist to be praised, to cause suffering, to punish, to prolong a fight that was already predetermined before time existed, or to condemn.

In the world my God created, humans do not exist to rule over the earth, but to participate in it and contribute to its growth.

The God I believe in did not create humankind to serve as pawns in a fight between eternal forces greater than ourselves; in the world my God created, all species co-exist and it is up to each individual species to make a contribution to our own species and to the earth, and if we cannot live in harmony with her than surely we will die.

My God rejoices when two people find love, even if they are of the same “gender”. My God is not offended by foul language but She is offended by those who praise “God” in church and in public, for wealth that was generated off the backs of people who have no choice but to engage in labor that ruins their health, keeps them from their families, keeps them from pursuing their dreams, and doesn’t pay them enough money to have a basic standard of living.

My God is offended by those who claim to walk with Him but beat their wives or their children, manipulate their congregation for money, molest the young, and condemn those who are decided to be “sinful” to hell.

My God is offended by those who use his name to oppress His people. My God created the marvel of the human brain, is enraged by those who would use fear of hell to keep people from using their brains to conceive of and create a better world—even if that means that people question the very existence of God. My God is not offended by those who don’t believe in her presence—She has high self-esteem and a healthy self-image.

My God does not “test” those who seek to be close to her. My God respects your right to define your own destiny, and create your own morality, and she is comfortable maintaining a relationship with you at whatever level you decide.

In the world my God created, life can be whatever we want it to be. It can be something to do until we die. It can be full of passion. It can be full of pain. It can be a work of art. It can be completely different from anyone else’s. It can surpass or fall far short of our expectations.

My God has created a world of endless potential. What is, is not what has to be. We can change ourselves. We can change our lives. We can change the world. We can change the galaxy, and the entirety of existence. My God has created us all of perfect, equal, and unique greatness.

My God exists both inside and outside of all living beings. I am not God, but part of me is.

Finally my God respects your right to follow other Gods.

However, if this isn’t the God you believe in, well, I think my God is better than yours

So anyway. I had a long talk with God. In the bathtub. And I feel good. I feel thankful. I am reminded that I am fully equipped with everything I need, to do everything I want to do and be everything I want to be. And I am thankful. And blessed. And inspired. And focused. And good…

*if you choose to be offended that I have lumped queerness into the same categories as many other things that truly are problematic, that’s not how I meant it. I just mean people are people.*

random

so maybe this is due to my sudden, dramatic infusion into the world of whiteness in Europe, but i really feel like i need a tan. something about that whole previous sentence seems like it could be ironic.

anywho. it’s not so much any dissatisfaction with my appearance, i just feel like i done been exposed to way too much damn sun in the past month to not have gotten any darker. i am definitely still my version of winter pale. which i don’t get at all, because supposedly people with more melanin tan more easily, and all my white friends got all nice and rosy, and i’m still the same old wane winter brown as opposed to sun bronzed.

enough of that triviality though.

i’m in atlanta! i feel like a sheep welcomed back into the fold. the weather was amazing today. i sat in the sun reading for almost an hour (did not get perceptibly darker)…t

perhaps i’ve just become a picky eater (maybe i’m just more at home with my liberal boogie-ness). one of the main reasons i was excited to come home was the food. however, upon arrival i’ve found that nothing has really piqued my appetite. except those jalepeno cheetos, because they are the shit.

and by “the shit” i mean addictive and delicious. so much so, that i’m advertising.

go buy these.

i knew that some white person would have taken the time and effort to photograph than upload a picture of these onto the internet. i feel like that’s just a white people thing to do. i’m not being judgmental, because having lived in land of white people, i am greatly influenced by them and do lots of white people stuff.
none of the things i’ve said above are insulting or racist, though they are class biased. anyway that was all just a crappy segue into this site:

stuff white people like!

i really love this site, and all the commentary. it’s great. someone commented that this effort to quantify white culture was connected to black history month, and that the site wouldn’t continue past march.
it seemed like that might not quite be it, since the blog started in january. but the normally daily blog hasn’t been updated in 2 days. so maybe that commenter was right, and the bloggers forgot that there were 29 days of black history month this year. i really hope the site isn’t dead, because i feel like the clever observer could do daily humorous bits of white people BUT even if all is said and done for this blog, there are still 78 great posts for your reading pleasure, with lots of interesting comments. so check that out!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

i really think i am a graphophile, or whatever word there is that means people who are addicted to writing. except that even when i am writing useless babble, i do still generally tend to write about some type of topic in a readable format. so i guess i am a functioning grafophile.

see, like that whole paragraph was worthless, but you read it, because it was in a readable format.

my present to myself for passing the CELTA is that i am going to get my nose pierced. for the 4th time. when i got my nose pierced the 3rd time i said to myself third time’s a charm! this one’s gonna last! but it didn’t. so now i’m just telling myself that the 4th time is just the time before the 5th. there are worse addictions than having one’s nose pierced. like…

i discovered the above magazine at a newstand in Casablanca, en francais. i think i love it. wait, i know i do. just finished an interview with the former CIA operative, now living (in exile?) France, who details the machinations the U.S. went through to kill Patrice Lumumba and justify his death.

being back in Atlanta has had a dream-like quality.  when i changed my money from Euros to greenbacks, I felt excited to hold american dollars (real money!) in my hand, and began cheesing unabashedly, which the man at the bank thought was a bit odd. And I was very excited to see so many men I found to be attractive. i still can’t believe i’m here. i took an immensely long shower, as if i had 60 days of dirt to clean off.

a lot of soldiers came home today in the airport in their fatigues (or whatever you call them)…with buzzcuts grown out at various lengths, most of them unsmiling and looking a bit dazed. my heart went out to them–not pitying but just like damn, i respect that you have probably just experienced some deep shit.

simple, quasi-philosophical ruminations

1) i realize that the U.S. could learn a lot from the unitarian universalists. UU’s are an interesting collective of people, who come from a variety of older faiths. the more liberal churches incorporate readings from buddhist, jewish, christian, muslim, taoist, baha’i, humanist, hindu, socialist, (and just about any other text that talks about how life should be lived) texts into sermons.
they are united not on the basis of their beliefs, but on the basis of how they treat one another. it’s a very basic concept. all living beings, but especially humans, must be treated with equal respect. this is really the principle around which i am trying to organize my life. though of course, i’m not perfect.

i feel like so many of us who are idealists, or want social justice, or dream of a different yet possible reality…focus on winning converts. we may not like to view our efforts as such, but essentially we believe that we’ve found some element of truth, and that if we could get others to see it, then the world would be better & people would be happier.

but, ironically, i am doing the same thing now so…hey…what do i know?
basically, i think respect is real important and i’m trying to show respect for others on an egalitarian level.

i’m still trying to figure out how to make social justice my life in a real, and meaningful way.

next.
if you haven’t read this article, please do so now! or very soon! here, i will even post a picture so perhaps you will be more enticed to read.

why should you read it? well 1: it focuses on an aspect of the great migration/illegal immigration phenomena that a lot of people are ignorant of and 2: i personally feel like this is today’s version of the underground railroad which i think is really important.

lastly:
Did you know that 95 percent of Africans brought to the Western Hemisphere during the slave trade were unloaded in Latin America or the Caribbean? Only 5 percent were brought to the United States. The majority of Black America has always been south of the border.

Today, millions of people in the U.S. self-identify as both Latino and Black. And it is estimated that one-third of the population of Latin America and the Caribbean—approximately 150 million people—is of African descent.

these are the opening paragraphs of an e-mail i got to plug vidaAfrolatino.com
Lots of people don’t know about Afrolatinos, or that they are in the U.S., or that there aspects of various Latino cultures have immediately recognizable links to sub-Saharan Africa, or that there are Latinos who look phenotypically Black.
Now this last point gets a bit hazy, because the main afro-latina in the public eye that i can immediately think of

zoe saldana, is basically a slightly browner version of all the things (hackneyed cliches?) that come to mind when you hear the phrase “latina”.

however, she was cast as the female lead in both drumline , in which she is a member of a black sorority at a historically black college,

and guess who , where the premise (which i found to be lacking in humor, social commentary, or interest) is that her relationship with ashton kutcher is like so deep because she is black, in the african-american sense, yet middle-class, while he is white and on the come-up from childhood poverty and a broken home.

so basically, in America to be black means to be african-american. and no matter what your origins, you are black if you look black. unless of course you’re actually black and don’t look black, in which case white people will be confused and black people will wonder if you’re slumming although african-americans’ powers of negro perception are exponentially more sensitive than people of any other ethnicity. ever-so-slight kink or poofiness to the hair, hint of brown in your undertone…we can tell you about the africa in you that you never knew was hiding in your otherwise aryan features.
i guess it’s like ‘gaydar’ but way more intense.

so anyway, now a part of me wonders if zoe saldana feels some sort of extra sense of gratefulness to “the african-american community”, that is the reason for her success as an actress?
because if she’s not, she’s so off my beautiful people list.

and that is all.

peace.

redefinition [an unmeditated, free post]

i was on socibus headed north from seville to madrid, amazed by how immediately and drastically the landscape changed, realizing that i just don’t know who i am anymore.

although i do know that i am no longer afraid of the cliche. including being a natural-haired, “educated” black person trying to find herself abroad.

i mean hey, it’s my reality.

so i’m black, right. i have been my whole life. i can never remember a time when i didn’t know i was black, or when i didn’t discern black from ‘other’. i was raised this way.

along with my egyptian name came a more extensive knowledge than most about egyptian mythology, a general fascination with all things african and/or black, and an unspoken ingrained sense of pan-african-ness and black ‘nationalism’ for lack of a better word.

example:

when watching the olympics or world cup, if the u.s. was competing against jamaica and kenya, i would feel torn about whether to root for jamaica or kenya, and not be concerned about the u.s. at all. unless of course it was basketball or track and the u.s. competitor was black, in which case i felt a slight preference for america…

remember surya bonaly?

the French chick that used to backflip on skates? that was my girl…and i loved watching her do something that no one else in the world was doing, and i especially loved that she was black, doing it.

yes, there’s a point to this rumination. so stage 1 in my formation of blackness…

there was black, and there was other. and black was black, no matter the country of origin.

stage 2…

i was a different kind of black. not by choice.

but there was my curly hair, and my american origin (juxtaposed with people from africa or even the caribbean who were darker, nappier haired, more phenotypically ‘black’?), and then all this cultural stuff about speaking properly and going to a liberal arts college.

so in stage 2 black people came in categories. we were still all black, but we had our own special little boxes of blackness. and ‘pure’ blackness basically had something to do with how close to sub-saharan africa you were (with the exception of sudan and ethiopia because somehow they were in an even more distinct category of blackness)

phenotype mattered. i was constantly being reminded that i wasn’t 100% Black because of a combination of physical features, and informed

in South Africa you would be colored, in the rest of “Black Africa” perhaps a half-caste (except in Ethiopia), in Jamaica you would be a brownin, in Haiti you would be brune ak curly hair, in Trinidad and Guyana people would think you were coolie or at least half, etc.

In other words, in the countries that are really Black, you wouldn’t really be Black. You’re only Black in countries where all the Black people have been watered down.

I had to accept this, because clearly I was no authority on blackness, but I was unhappy accepting this. And I can’t really see how not looking “100% Black” has been beneficial to me in any way, as I am quite brown-skinned, except that Dominicans often think I am one of their own. But in the eyes of many, Dominicans are Black. They share an island with Haiti, which is one of the Blackest countries in the world. so…

moving along.

I was left with this sense that, according to the Black people authorities, in a global context I was only Black by choice. And definitely had no real legitimate claim to put “African” in any part of my identity, because I was visibly not African.

So it was quite a {pleasant?} surprise to me, when I went to Morocco–which is in Africa, but not the “Black” part–that it was generally assumed that I was from Africa. And by Africa, I mean sub-Saharan, Black Africa. Just nice to experience the flip side of the coin.

Now just to clarify, I identify as African-American. I feel like it’s the most accurate term to describe someone of my heritage–descendant of slaves, mostly from West Africa, in the U.S. I have not picked any particular country in Africa and decided that it is my ancestral home (although I do want to take that DNA test to see if my genealogy can be traced to a specific area in Africa). I don’t practice any African based religion, or any religion at all. The closest I speak to any African language is Haitian Kreyol. I have never even taken an African dance class (unless you count Salsa)…

Besides knowing a little history, liking zouk, afrobeat, and “nollywood” (Nigerian) films, and having friends from different countries in Africa…I can’t say I have a personal connection to Africa. yet.

But how ludicrous is it to suggest that I’m not African?

I don’t cling to blackness out of desperation or by default because I can’t fit into any other category in America…like I said, I was always Black, ever since I can remember. And it’s a struggle sometimes…but it’s beautiful…and I love it.