Addiction

Love can overcome many things, addiction is not one.

Everyone has a favorite aunt or uncle, they’re funny and hip, wise and understanding. My favorite aunt happens to addicted to drugs. It’s the only thing that will keep her from her family.

I remember one Christmas after she had been missing for years, she gave me a huge tub of popcorn. Some was caramelized, others were buttered and the rest were covered in cheddar. It wasn’t a toy, it wasn’t money but it was from my aunt. They call us twins.

I was a young child, probably 6 or 7 years old. The next time I saw my aunt, I was in the 7th grade at my great grand-father’s funeral. She stayed for a few months and left. My mom always told me she always came back in enough time to sober up before someone in our family died. The next time she came back was August 2008. She stayed sober for quite a while, up until October 2009, she was on the right path and I knew she was here to stay. My great-aunt died a few weeks after her return in 2008 (my mom was right) and then we dealt with the loss of my grand-father which hurt her. My grand-father wanted nothing more but to see me graduate from Howard University and for my aunt to remain sober. She was doing so well.

Sunday afternoon my mother told me she had been missing and that she had returned to her old habits..

If nothing hurts more than losing your grand-father it’s losing your aunt to drugs. I’m angry and hurt. I called her with every intention of shouting and cursing her horrible habits, no answer.

I feed them with my pen.

I write.

Because I am a writer.

They read because they're starved.

My lines are food for thought,

I got them eating.

Social Isolation, part 2.

There comes a point in every sensible person's life, where you just can't take "the scene" anymore. I'm unfastening my strap and walking away, into the shadows of the edges of campus. It's enough to drive someone insane and I refuse to let this production eat away at my sanity.

No more drama. No more part-time friends. No more trying to fit in when in actuality, I don't like people.

Real Men and the Self-Professed.

How many times have you stumbled across a male that claims to be "the realest (insert "n" word) you'll ever meet"?

Yeah, I'm pretty sure we all have. He's the one with "death before dishonor" or something like it inscripted around his chest, arm or back. A real man doesn't have to say he's real, a real man also doesn't have to stamp it on his body because it emanates from his actions.

Like it or not, you don't know too many real men. Your dad may not even carry that title. As a young girl I was born thanks to two real men. Kado Wilks, Sr. (my grandfather) and Isaac Harris (my great-grandfather) - may their souls rest in eternal peace. My grandfather could not stand gossip, but if he heard it he'd tell you - to your face - what he heard and what he thought of it. If your clothes were wrinkled or you had a booger lining your nostrils, he'd tell you. My great-grandfather was the opposite. In all his years he never spoke negatively about another human-being. If Pop thought you were a liar, he simple tuned you out. If Pop thought you were trouble, he never invited you back into his home; and that was all there was to him. Real mean respect women, provide for their families and stay loyal to their friends. Period.

Respecting women is one thing, respecting black women is an entirely different subject. Black women, on a minimal scale; birthed the nation. On a grandiose scale; they birthed nature. If you cannot respect a black woman (who respects herself, because we all know some don't) then you cannot respect yourself, or any other being for that matter. You are not a loyal man if you find yourself engaging in lust with your friend's partner. A real man doesn't just look out for himself, he should and will get himself in the door and then proceed to hold it open for the next person.

A lot of the deceivers carry female tendencies. This being envy, jealously, tittle-tattle and the inability to confront someone with issues that plague them.

I've absolutely had enough of you impostors, you've gone the extra mile to prove you're a real man but, in fact, your extra running about has exhibited how basic you really are.

It is okay young man, all men will not and cannot be real. That's what makes life so interesting.

simultaneously heart-broken.

Ironically, at this very moment my heart has been broken simultaneously, by love and life.

Go figure.

The two things that are told to us, by some pale greater being are that love and life go hand-in-hand they should always make you smile. Pfft, I beg to differ.

Love - at some point in this race, I caught you. Slowed your pace some. Every now and then I catch you trying to run from me, sometimes I wonder if love is afraid or if love just isn't interested in what we've gotten ourselves into. Nevertheless, my feelings for love will never change, not now anyway. Reason being: it only ends in two ways, marriage or heartache. I'm familiar with the latter.

Life - first shattered my soul when it sent my Great-Aunt home, six months later it sent my Grand-father. Life happens and plans are altered, but never like this..

You can have my heart or we can share it like the last slice..

"Sometimes you hope too much, then we hope not enough, keep hope alive."

In the beginning I hoped big for something that was seemingly far-fetched. Now, that desire is reality.

Allow me to be weak for a moment, 25 reasons:

1. Batman - The Dark Knight

2. Annie: "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness".

3. Your drunken smile.

4. "who's my favorite girl?"

5. Your love for your friends.

6. Over-sized pancakes.

7. JR. & The other...

8. Carter the bear.

9. Putting my Uggs in row with your shoes :)

10. The Park dates.

11. Your drive.

12. Savannah, Ga.

13. Putting up with my fits.

14. Fat-man Scoop.

15. Growing from a boy to a man.

16. The arms that hold me.

17. "Mann, get off my nuts."

18. Pointer-finger promises.

19. Gypsy eyes.

20. Spicy Chicken Sandwich from Wendy's.

21. Rock Creeks.

22. "Hoedog."

23. Late night talks.

24. Best I Ever Had - Drake

25. Because you are you, always.

Music Monday: Why I Love U So Much - Monica & With U - Monica.

"Morgan loves you even when you don't think she does."

I don't know why you love me, but you do and it makes me love you more.

Life, as a story book

I created a book that was eloquently written, on accident. Or, was it created purposefully? That's besides the point.

You co-wrote. So, we wrote the beginning of a piece of art that, regretfully, ends at its beautiful beginning. A chapter long.

We shouldve never wrote the love letter, for it ended with a period...or the lack thereof.

We gracefully, not carefully, consrtructed this story. As the letters formed words, words became phrases and amidst a particular sentence, it was left unsaid. We'll never know if the book turns out "happily ever after"...

Ironic enough, I don't know if any book ever truly ends that way. Some could say stories never stop, the pages just run out. But I'm sure we can conventionally end ours with "The End."

Chance of Love?

I ask myself a lot, which would be easiest...

Walk away and leave with nothing or keep walking towards the unknown? Only to walk away from the supposed 'unknown', broken and damaged. Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me...

Ultimately this leads me back to where I once solidly stood - love/relationships/lovey dovey crap is for sappy-wimpy-lily hearted- fools.

"It is better to have loved once than to have never loved at all." - I never had love, never truly possessed it.

So, I'll stick to the latter.

Search for Solitude.

It is hard to watch people that you appear to be similar to obtain goals and work continually towards those goals while your path seems to have more speed bumps, deterring you from getting to end at the same rate they are, but I now comprehend the saying, "everything ain't for everybody" - I'm walking, I may not be going at a consistent speed, but I'm walking. I'll have to find my speed and when I do, I'll get there. 

I'll get it.

Searching for my solitude; 

I came from the ground if you want to be technical, so in the grandiose picture I came from the earth. My happiest times were spent in the park, on the grass, on a park bench, listening to the wind tell me what's next. I suppose we'll start all over again on this quest to peace and start with mother nature. She always has been good to me :)

I'll let you know how this goes...

Ficky-Ficky Success?

Blasting my music, jamming out, living life as random as I could possibly do....the music came to a hault. 

Success is.......What?

In this superficial bubble, that is Howard University, success is defined as membership in numerous organizations, a decent (or maybe not so decent) GPA and popped hair  (in a males case nice clothes). But wait! If you live off of campus and have a car, your even more successful...right?

The free spirited aren't candidates for success supposedly, or maybe not the success warranted by the masses. They're the straight and narrow kind of kids I've never truly liked, they shoot one arrow up at a star and hope to land but, if you miss, then what? I live by the philosophy that states the opposite. Shoot several arrows at several different stars, your bound to hit one, if not all. 

Scatter-brain. Not like an idiot but, simply put...scattered. 

I don't think I can plan my life according to a five year plan, I'm too finicky for that...I'm too me , for that.

So...what is success?

Sunday, the pastor said, "if you rely on formulas for prosperity your bound to fail" ......I never did like formulas. 

:)

Where are you, me?

Seems as if I've been living in a lot of chaos lately, a piece of my sanity was left at BWI Airport on December 30, 2008 when I made my way to Atlanta for a week filled with debauchery, gluttony, blasphemy and all things irreverent. 

I suppose it was my 4.0 GPA or the fact that my father treated me to everything I asked for in the month of December. When my flight landed in Washington, DC on January 2, 2009....I starred blankly out of my window, longing to go back. Apparently I forgot to pick up my sanity at the baggage claim.

Hello '09

Why on earth would ANY text book be $200?

I might as well sell my soul to the devil to get that flimsy piece of paper that reads, "Bachelor of Arts" because it damn near costs the price of my life. This is my last semester of my third year. After this I'll have two. Frightening. I wonder what I'd have to sell next to afford Law School or Graduate School? Decisions.

Enough of the depressing Undergraduate student talk; Happy 2009 bloggers!

This is looking up to be a promising year. 2008 was definitely a year of blessings and risks. A lot of dots were connected for me last year. God willing, the dots will continue to connect and convey a pretty picture :)