tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6219789545446509702024-03-13T08:56:24.301-04:00A prisoner of words unsaid.Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-70535627111036575262010-01-29T21:23:00.002-05:002010-01-29T21:34:00.323-05:00What is the worth..African-Americans spend most of their income (which might I add, is the lowest of any race in this country) on clothing and personal care products. This only means one thing, we care more about our appearance than much of anything else. Second to clothes and toiletries is poultry. Can we seriously be offended when people say things like "black people<i> loooove</i> chicken"? It's true.<div><br /></div><div>It's also fact that we have an embarrassing order of priorities, and yet, we're overly sensitive when McDonald's runs Television ads of an African-American male singing R&B tunes to his beloved Chicken McNuggets. My race, this race has fallen short of every dream, hope and prayer our ancestors had for us. W.E.B DuBois had a principle that the top 10% of this race would help to uplift the rest of us - because after all, we are like crabs in a barrel - sadly his principle is now insubstantial. Only 4.8% of the African-American population hold advanced degrees in the U.S. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's a problem here. What will it take for you to straighten your act and treat yourself with respect and have some dignity as a black woman or man? What will it take for you to spend a few more hours reading to a child rather than playing a video game or smoking a blunt? What will it take for you to wake up and go to your classes on African-American studies? What is the worth of the legacy your race? Kings and Queens, we've allowed ourselves to become jesters in this society, we've become the leading negative statistics. We, because WE as a cohesive force of strong people have fallen to the wayside and obviously, we're content. </div><div><br /></div><div>You're only as strong as your weakest link. Help a young brother or sister out, let's stop bringing them down and treating them as if they aren't our own.</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-82571055301781308962010-01-29T21:14:00.002-05:002010-01-29T21:21:54.972-05:00"hope for the worst.."Reliance..it is one feature that we as humans were cursed with. Yes, you read that correctly, cursed.<div><br /></div><div>The dependence on any human-being, other than yourself, makes you - shall I say, gullible. We've fostered the understanding that it is ok to rely on others. Foolishness. We would all be best if we stood on our own two feet never expecting much more than eating, shitting and breathing of another human-being. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sounds hard, me saying it in this way and it's understandable that as children we unconsciously rely on our parents to feed us, bathe us, soothe us and care for us but at some point in growing up and growing wise you must learn that not even yourself is a stable creature.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm almost convinced the depending on or relying on another person is a bigger let down than your favorite team losing the SuperBowl. </div><div><br /></div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-83019620833154689382010-01-16T16:00:00.002-05:002010-01-16T16:03:40.923-05:00I'm afraid I do not know what's going on with Blogger anymore, I may have to disable this mickey-flickey and stick with Tumblr. Hmm..<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, quick release of thoughts for 2010;</div><div><br /></div><div>I've found myself breaking all the rules I set out for myself and since I've disobeyed myself I have no control over my emotions. I feel like I'm 10 all over again, back when I was in love with Carl and too shy to act normal, I acted completely awkward. Never made eye-contact, barely laughed at his jokes - even if they were hilarious, I acted so weird towards the poor boy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sad to say I'm doing the same thing 11 years later. Ugh. I'm stupid.</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-80734623501878399712009-11-23T16:10:00.002-05:002009-11-23T16:11:15.848-05:00Addiction<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(112, 112, 112); line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Love can overcome many <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">things, addiction is not one.</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">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.</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">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.</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">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.</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Sunday afternoon my mother told me she had been missing and that she had returned to her old habits..</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">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.</span></p></span>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-12004110038550247712009-11-01T16:43:00.000-05:002009-11-01T16:44:11.891-05:00I feed them with my pen.I write.<div>Because I am a writer.</div><div>They read because they're starved. </div><div>My lines are food for thought, </div><div>I got them eating.</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-16941960239745914132009-08-25T18:57:00.002-04:002009-08-25T19:00:51.950-04:00Social 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. <div><br /></div><div>No more drama. No more part-time friends. No more trying to fit in when in actuality, I don't like people.</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-61261071115782911572009-07-29T15:33:00.005-04:002009-07-29T16:12:50.748-04:00Real 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"? <div><br /></div><div>Yeah, I'm pretty sure we all have. He's the one with "death before dishonor" or something like it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">inscripted</span> 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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kado</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Wilks</span>, 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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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 (<i>who respects herself, because we all know some don't</i>) 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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">absolutely</span> had enough of you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">impostors</span>, 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.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is okay young man, all men will not and cannot be real. That's what makes life so interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-64547523780120946442009-06-21T20:55:00.004-04:002009-06-21T21:45:01.911-04:00simultaneously heart-broken.Ironically, at this very moment my heart has been broken simultaneously, by love and life. <div><br /></div><div>Go figure.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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..</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-70538249670036349092009-06-01T21:14:00.006-04:002009-06-01T23:39:16.853-04:00You can have my heart or we can share it like the last slice..<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Sometimes you hope too much, then we hope not enough, keep hope alive."</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In the beginning I hoped big for something that was seemingly far-fetched. Now, that desire is reality. </div><div><br /></div><div>Allow me to be weak for a moment, 25 reasons:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Batman - The Dark Knight</div><div>2. Annie: "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness".</div><div>3. Your drunken smile.</div><div>4. "who's my favorite girl?"</div><div>5. Your love for your friends.</div><div>6. Over-sized pancakes.</div><div>7. JR. & The other...</div><div>8. Carter the bear.</div><div>9. Putting my Uggs in row with your shoes :)</div><div>10. The Park dates.</div><div>11. Your drive.</div><div>12. Savannah, Ga.</div><div>13. Putting up with my fits.</div><div>14. Fat-man Scoop.</div><div>15. Growing from a boy to a man.</div><div>16. The arms that hold me.</div><div>17. "Mann, get off my nuts."</div><div>18. Pointer-finger promises.</div><div>19. Gypsy eyes.</div><div>20. Spicy Chicken Sandwich from Wendy's.</div><div>21. Rock Creeks.</div><div>22. "Hoedog."</div><div>23. Late night talks.</div><div>24. Best I Ever Had - Drake</div><div>25. Because you are you, always.</div><div><br /></div><div>Music Monday: Why I Love U So Much - Monica & With U - Monica.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Morgan loves you even when you don't think she does."</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know why you love me, but you do and it makes me love you more.</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-14770369471882171672009-05-17T09:17:00.000-04:002009-05-17T09:18:42.405-04:00Life, as a story bookI created a book that was eloquently written, on accident. Or, was it created purposefully? That's besides the point. <br /><br />You co-wrote. So, we wrote the beginning of a piece of art that, regretfully, ends at its beautiful beginning. A chapter long. <br /><br />We shouldve never wrote the love letter, for it ended with a period...or the lack thereof. <br /><br />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"...<br /><br />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."Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-55418395588800634282009-03-23T20:49:00.004-04:002009-03-29T14:09:20.861-04:00Chance of Love?I ask myself a lot, which would be easiest...<div><br /></div><div>Walk away and leave with nothing or keep walking towards the unknown? Only to walk away from the supposed '<i>unknown</i>', broken and damaged. Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ultimately this leads me back to where I once solidly stood - love/relationships/lovey dovey crap is for sappy-wimpy-lily hearted- fools. </div><div><br /></div><div>"It is better to have loved once than to have never loved at all." - I never had love, never truly possessed it.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I'll stick to the latter.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-31866108558995135262009-02-22T19:06:00.004-05:002009-02-22T19:20:20.423-05:00Search 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. <div><br /></div><div>I'll get it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Searching for my solitude; </div><div><br /></div><div>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 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">quest to peace</span> and start with mother nature. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">She always has been good to me</span> :)</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll let you know how this goes...</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-63667803577293498762009-02-20T16:33:00.008-05:002009-02-22T19:30:28.974-05:00Ficky-Ficky Success?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtLYpdCEJ3A/SZ8kWf2c3LI/AAAAAAAAAFA/dg07lczHdxk/s1600-h/Photo+236.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtLYpdCEJ3A/SZ8kWf2c3LI/AAAAAAAAAFA/dg07lczHdxk/s320/Photo+236.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304998854991338674" /></a><br />Blasting my music, jamming out, living life as random as I could possibly do....the music came to a hault. <div><br /></div><div>Success is.......What?</div><div><br /></div><div>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?</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>Scatter-brain. Not like an idiot but, simply put...scattered. </div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>So...what is success?</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Sunday, the pastor said, "if you rely on formulas for prosperity your bound to fail" ......I never did like formulas. <br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div>:)</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-88904317403946426342009-02-16T21:12:00.003-05:002009-02-22T19:29:45.494-05:00Where 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. <div><br /></div><div>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.</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-70834381389621260982009-01-12T18:37:00.005-05:002009-01-12T19:12:57.422-05:00Hello '09<div>Why on earth would ANY text book be $200?</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enough of the depressing Undergraduate student talk; Happy 2009 bloggers!</div><div><br /></div><div>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 :)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-90711812427375728442008-12-17T22:44:00.002-05:002008-12-17T22:48:52.354-05:00Romans 12:12<div>Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.</div><div><br /></div>Growth.<div><br /></div><div>It's simple, the task is to grow and acknowledge the growth. Once you've acknowledged the road you've traveled you must succumb to the change. If not, the growth was in vain...or so it would seem. </div><div><br /></div><div>Self-less.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, more than ever have I put my own wants to the side. I've moved disposable things from my heart and created a crevice for another. </div><div><br /></div><div>Grow. Live. Accept. Succumb. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pathos.</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-47758369332958098312008-10-28T20:04:00.002-04:002008-10-28T20:14:15.141-04:00Say it loud...For a long time I was ashamed of being rich, being strong, being the ancestor to the mother of all mankind....but today, I'm twenty and able to appreciate me.<div><br /></div><div>Black.</div><div><br /></div><div>Power.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unashamed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Uninhibited.</div><div><br /></div><div>Free.</div><div><br /></div><div>Intelligent.</div><div><br /></div><div>Striving.</div><div><br /></div><div>In seven days I may be able to correctly and technically say, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"my president is black." My president</span> may just be a black man. Yes, it holds a good ring to your ears for two years, but when you actually become conscious of the fact, it's indeed a wonderful feeling.</div><div><br /></div><div>Black, I am. Proud, I am. Black is beautiful. Therefore, I am...</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-50073882317489402032008-10-10T13:38:00.002-04:002008-10-10T13:41:15.294-04:00Simplistic Fall Air.Simplicity is key.<div><br /></div><div>It's the most simplistic piece of information one could give. Fall is here. The trees are dancing with the wind. The air is so crisp, not too cold, not too hot. Just right.</div><div><br /></div><div>Comfortable are the months of October and November. Simplistic.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-66134904562552548202008-10-07T13:35:00.000-04:002008-10-07T13:35:00.627-04:00My Heavy Heart....No longer will I mourn the death of my Aunt.No longer will I live within this box I have created for myself!<br /><br />My aunt lived a long and prosperous life. She served others, never being selfish. A very humble woman, one in which I aspire to be. She raised my cousins the right way, she loved me the right way, she cared with genuine concern. I consign the peach trees, pine trees and pecans to her very existence.<br /><br />Nature personifies us all.She reminds me of Zora Neale Hurston's,"Their Eyes Were Watching God"<br /><br />Learning to find peace in not such peaceful places is daring, but I'm doing.<br /><br />My heavy heart, is light...<br /><br />RIP Aunnie.Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-15165771004258458072008-09-22T19:34:00.002-04:002008-12-17T22:57:03.362-05:00Inside troubles & realizations.<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It's been a month today. Wow, sometimes I forget how busy I am, being busy. Junior year has commenced and we are well on our way. All the excitement is long gone and the realization of being “old in Howard years” has set in. I’m here, whether I want to be or not.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I’ve been so caught up in the hustle and bustle of life that I forgot to think about reality. I’ve learned something about myself in the past month, I have developed this mechanism that if I don’t think about it or see it, it doesn’t exist. Even if that “it” is something important. I’ve put off worrying about grand-father because I pretended he was okay. I put off worrying about how I betrayed my brothers by ignoring them. Now, I’m hit with reality and it hurts. You know, I’m really tired of reality hitting me, she’s no sucker when it comes to smacks in the face. I appreciate her though.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">For a few days I felt so alone. Yes, I have my best-friend and my extended family, I appreciate them so much, they’ve dealt with a lot in the past four weeks and that affirms that they are truly in my corner. So then, you wonder, what’s the issue? Well, my kin is no where to be found, no support. I feel alone, like a misfit, I always have.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A good friend of mine told me God was trying to get me alone, he wants me to see that physically I have a team of supporters but when they don’t answer the phone or they’re coping with their own hells, I have him. I spend too much time talking to God, not enough time listening. Well “Big Homie” I’m done talking…I open my heart to what you want to tell me. All ears.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I’m too young to experience this second decade crisis -- I digress -- I would go ahead and call it a mid-life crisis but society tells me I can’t have that until I’m 40, but who is to say this isn’t the middle of MY life? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Spiritually I am growing and filling myself with more of the Lord and in this spiritual journey I plan to shut up and listen. I plan to cleanse myself and start anew. I may even switch over to vegetarian. I’m doing this for my own cleansing and beneficial reasons. </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I’ll leave anyone in my position with this, a quote my big sister shared with me, “impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given rather than explore the power they have within them to change it. Impossible is not a fact, its an opinion, impossible isn’t a declaration it’s a DARE!”</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-91302200238733701902008-08-22T16:03:00.000-04:002008-08-22T16:09:06.179-04:00Is all that we know...?I've been had. Hoodwinked. Fooled. Led astray. Deceived. Duped. Outwitted and TRICKED.<div><br /></div><div>Damn. Damn. Damn. You think you know a person and then the light is flicked on and who you thought was there, wasn't there at all. </div><div><br /></div><div>Vulnerability is the best way for me to explain this. I loved him, well, I loved who I THOUGHT he was. I called him my brother, my friend, my rock and I trusted him with my life, with my thoughts and my secrets. I let him in. HURT. </div><div><br /></div><div>If I could talk to him again, I'd be afraid. Fearful because the power I thought he had, he did, just not under the circumstances in which I was ready to deal with. Where will life take you? Why did you fool us? Were your words genuine or was I just a pawn in your game? Answer me! </div><div><br /></div><div>Traumatized. I watched my hope walk away in handcuffs. . .</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-42705032931877614342008-08-07T20:39:00.000-04:002008-08-08T00:24:55.479-04:00O.P.I nail polish and Erykah BaduI listened to 2.4 hours worth of Erykah Badu, something from every album. She soothes my inner beast, hell, she just soothes me.<div><br /></div><div>Solitude.</div><div><br /></div><div>I think I'll use these last two weeks to gather my thoughts, my peace and my intellect. I'm ready to tackle Junior year like God planned for me to do. No more cliques, no more drama, no more extra. People tend to be my downfall because I seem to give people a certain power, pfft, not again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Twenty minute shower. Scrubbing, thinking, singing, humming, praising, wishing.</div><div>Twenty minutes later; clean and happy.</div><div>Smelling good, feeling fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enough with Erykah,</div><div>lets put itunes on shuffle.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chrisette Michelle - Mr. Radio.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, sing to me. "is there more than the physical" - over here, yep and that's what draws me in.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm all over the place tonight, but I like it. Free and doing me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be back when what I have to say makes sense...</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-74533704257234771182008-08-06T00:59:00.001-04:002008-08-06T01:04:20.483-04:00happy & refusing to go back.I used to listen to 'Rihanna - Cry' religiously, "I'm not the type to get my heart broken, I'm not the type to get upset and cry, 'cause I never leave my heart open". Now, I don't. I listen to old school love songs, songs about falling, being in and entering love. <div><br /></div><div>Some people have been skeptics and honestly, it bothered me because I value peoples opinions. Then, I remembered, I was a different Morgan a few weeks back and no matter what anyone says, I'm happy. I'm good. I'm smitten. All negativity is fictitious; it ceases to exist around these parts. </div><div><br /></div><div>Excuse me if I offend, but, </div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing even matters...</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-74197181307855202542008-07-23T16:33:00.001-04:002008-07-27T18:04:55.182-04:00Building Blocks of LoveI was over at Pink Wire and her most recent blog sparked a little somethin' - somethin'.<div><br /></div><div>Guy meets girl, or, girl meets guy. There's obviously a physical attraction but most <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">sensible</span> people start to consider what type of person they're dealing with. Rather than laying down, entering and releasing we should talk and feel people out. This would be the courting phase. (dating, talking, chilling, kicking it - whatever you call it)</div><div><br /></div><div>Go to the arcade, parks, bowling, play twister, uno, take a trip to the zoo. Have an interview with the person, figure out where their head is. Dating should be fun, never too serious and if your going on several dates he/she must be fond of you. Don't rush, don't fall. Allow yourself to experience new things, it keeps things interesting</div><div><br /></div><div>Relationships become options and often the topic of discussion between the couple and often times, their friends. Don't feel pressured. Do it in your own time. (Another issue I've had in the past) I was always taught to cherish being courted because the sweet dates and door holding start to diminish and you start spending your Friday nights in the house. Titles are bull- it doesn't make him or her anymore yours than the next person. If anything, the titles runs your significant other off. People start to deviate from the plan and true colors start to present themselves. Tisk, tisk.</div><div><br /></div><div>FINAL POINT - You probably won't get past a first date if you give yourself so soon. What's left to chase if you've already gotten the goodies?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ladies, Gentlemen, Smuts & Whoremongers...if you all cannot follow these steps you will be shipped to the whore conquest I have created in Iran. Just kiddin' ;-)</div>Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-621978954544650970.post-58464490065130608242008-07-21T22:38:00.001-04:002008-07-22T00:18:22.322-04:00well, hello mister turtle.In my opinion, a turtle is the smartest and most unique creation. he protects himself with himself, a splendid defense mechanism.<br /><br />Hiding; within my shell.<br />Scared to take a chance, far from brave.<br /><br />Lately, they've all been telling me, "it's okay to take a chance.." - "don't stand in the way of your own happiness" - "be free.." Well, I've done that before and it took me about four months to stop crying myself to sleep and almost a year to get over him. Mending a broken heart is left up to its owner, so it's easy for people to say, "take a chance". I'm debating on sticking my head out, love is a risk. Don't get it twisted, I'm not out for that, but fondness is a gateway to love and, I honestly don't know if that's where I want to be.<br /><br />I vowed to never again be that love-drunk-starry eyed- chump.<br /><br />Could that vow cause me something nice?<br />Eh.<br /><br />Erykah Badu says, "think twice before we start something nice"Morgan Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775071151017510091noreply@blogger.com1