Beauty Is???

When did we get a standard for beauty and why? I know this standard was set long before I came into the world, because it was predetermined for me to be one of the uglies. So, when did we set this standard? Who set the standard? Why did we set the standard? Why is there only one specific look that is viewed as being beautiful? What about the rest of us?

As I’ve stated before, I am an ugly, in the eyes of society of course. But when I look in the mirror at these round brown eyes, my full lips, and curly low-cut, I see nothing but an image of what is truly beautiful. Society puts billions of dollars into the beauty industry to show their disagreement. And it is so frustrated. I do a pretty good job of holding my head high, but sometimes (like when I’m PMSing) all it takes is a glance at the cover of a magazine, or the flipping through some channels and I’m bawling my eyes out. Because I don’t look like them. And then I immediately hate myself afterwards for even wanting to walk around looking like these mindless drones… its all a very complicated situation and I’m sure I’m not the only woman going through it.

Here’s a vid of my favorite poem about beauty and I listen to it whenever I need to be consoled by what real beauty is.

What do you think??

XoXo,

Tia

Victory May Be Within My Own Downfall

A few weeks ago, I had a mental break down. This is the main reason why you beautiful ladies haven’t heard from me. I spare you the gruesome (not so gory) details of what happen and simplify it all: there were pills and a trip to the mental health institution involved. While sitting in the loony bin, I spoke with a psychiatrist. He confirmed that it’s not my mental health that’s the problem; my emotional health is basically what caused everything.  He offered to put me on anti-depressants but I turned that down. It seems to me that those would only cover up the problem instead of fixing it, and I’ve been doing enough of that. It’s time to do emotional inventory and purge myself of everything negative. Putting the pieces back together has been a really hard thing for me to do. The first step I had to do was stop lying to the people closest to me and let them in on how bad things really were for me. Kendall already knew most of it, but my father had no idea, and his look of confusion with the fire department showed up at our house that night confirms that fact. My best friends didn’t know anything. That had been there for some of my traumatic experiences, but they didn’t know to what extent these things affected me. So, I opened myself up to them. Ripped the scabs off and exposed all of my scars. I told them that I was on a journey to become whole again and I wouldn’t be able to do it without their love and support. And what do you know? There was no passing of judgment or angry pinches, just hugs and love. What I needed.

So, after admitting to myself and others that I have a problem, I’ve been spending most of my days confronting my issues. Bringing them from the dark recesses of my mind to the front to be handled and tossed out of my mind. Instead of acting like none of these things happened, I have to confront it head on, understand that it didn’t get the best of me because I’m still here. I have loads to be thankful for and that’s what I look to when I’m weighed down by the negativity in my mind. I’ve been working on seeing the positive in every situation: yeah, I was raped (which is a truly horrific thing for anyone to have to go through) but I’m still alive and breathing to tell my story. Some victims don’t get that chance. No, I don’t have a job nor do I know how I’m going to pay my phone bill and credit card bill at the end of this month,  but I have a roof over my head, a warm bed to sleep in, and food to put in my stomach when it starts rumbling. A lot of people without jobs, especially in the time of this recession, are homeless. So, I’m learning to be thankful for what I have, however small it may be. I’m finding positive in every negative so the weight of my thoughts don’t drag me under.

It’s not going to be easy, but the end results will be worth it. So I ask you all to bear with me. I’m ready to become a whole person again.

XoXo,

Tia

It All Boils Down To...

If my twenty years here on this beautiful planet have taught me anything, it’s that it all boils down to patience.  Nothing is more important than or as effective as solid patience. But it’s the hardest thing to have in a world where we praise the thin, rich, and famous. Everybody wants the quick get-rich-schemes and nobody wants to take the time to go out to the gym these days. It’s all about the newest diet pill that will have that stomach flattened and two-piece ready in less than two weeks. Working hard for the money? A thing of the past. Let’s all be rappers and actors, toss our integrity to the win for a little bit of change and a house in the hills. All in the name of impatience. ....

Why can’t we all just hold out until our dreams come true? They say good things come to those who wait, so, why the rush? I must admit that I own very little patience and I find it increasingly hard to get some when I can see my dream, almost touch it even, but I have no way of ever making it come true. Or at least that’s what I trick myself into believing because things aren’t happening as quickly as I would like them too. Maybe I’m not supposed to write a best-seller until I’m thirty years old with lots more life experience under my belt.  Maybe we aren’t supposed to live together until we get married. If these things are meant to happen, they will, in their own time. So, why on Earth can’t I stop trying to rush things along?....

I feel this sense of urgency every morning when I wake up. As if I didn’t just turn twenty, but forty instead. Yes, the years have flown by, but there are so many more to be lived. So much to be learned, earned, taught, shared, seen, and heard. But because I’m so impatient, I lead a feeble existence that doesn’t allow me to stop and smell the flowers. Not because I’m moving at too rapid a pace, but because I’m so focused on speeding things up that I can’t see anything else. I feel like I’ve put a new spin on the term “tunnel vision.” ....

But I do know that patience is a virtue and I need to get more of it. My life will be a lot easier to live if I sit back and enjoy the ride.  I’m quite sure there’s a reason things are going so slow. Some lesson I’m supposed to learn, some person I’m supposed to meet. Things that can’t happen if I don’t slow down, take a breath, and stop to check the scenery every now and then. This is not to say that I’m not going to arrive at my destination, I’m just going to arrive on time, when I’m fully capable of dealing with everything it entails. And maybe that’s what is best. Ya’ know?....

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Really Mia?

So... let's sit in chat. Everybody grab their cups of tea, coffee, martini, whatever it is you drink when you're hit with surprising news. My sister, 17 years old, senior in high school, mother to a one year old, is pregnant again. Yessir. Eleven weeks pregnant. Her due date is January 15. She won't even be 18 and her first child won't even be two. When she told me, all I could do was shake my head. And then laugh. Her biggest concern in this situation is not what the hell she's going to do with two children at the age of 18 being a single mother, no, she has more important things to worry about. Like how other people are going to feel about the situation. She said she doesn't want to look like a failure in other people's eyes and I told her that should have been circulating through her mind when she was spreading her legs without protection. I mean seriously. How damn dumb do you have to be? It's been scientifically proven that you are indeed fertile and can reproduce, so why wouldn't you take the necessary steps to prevent this type of mistake? You already have one child that you can barely control and you have no clue how to raise, but still, lets throw another innocent life into the mix. Fucking ignorance.

Call Me Heartless...

... but the bitch has to go. I have had it up to here with being used and abused all in the name of family. I have very low tolerance for any type of bull shit with so-called family members. The only person I'm even going to consider taking any bullshit from is my father so if you're not him and you're coming with bullshit, prepare to be put on the chopping block.

Mia is the epitome of these ignorant, ghetto bitches I can barely stand the sight of. Not only she is a teen mother, but she's dirty and has no respect for herself. I don't believe in people making excuses for themselves, especially when there is extra help offered. So, her having a baby at a young age doesn't warrant any pity from me, especially since this is apparently what she wanted for herself.

I am not her personal maid or her personal chef. I don't give a fuck about how hard of a time she could possibly be having because she's so disrespectful. I do not owe her anything and the fact that she walks around thinking she can shit, eat, and fuck up without having to clean up or contribute in some way makes me want to puke.

I don't have to many emotions for her either so I have no qualms about slapping her across her slick ass mouth when she thinks its ok to talk shit to me because I ask her to clean up behind her and her baby. I am not the reason for her predicament. I didn't tell her to lay down and spread her legs, hoping a baby would keep her boyfriend from cheating on her. So don't bring that attitude shit to my face because I AM NOT HAVING IT.

PERIOD.

I know this sounds harsh, but I am not big on family, so you fuck up, then you're on the chopping block and it looks like she just lost the biggest support system she ever had. And I don't care.

Here We Go Again

So, as stated in the blog before this one, I hate anything having to do with the ghetto because I despise it. It is not something I am proud of, it is just the place I came from. If I had been given the choice, I would have wanted to grow up on Wisteria Lane or some shit. But anyway, that's not what we're talking about here. No, not today. The ghetto is going public!!! Famous rapper Lil Wayne reportedly has two women pregnant with his children, right now as we speak, This the type of stuff that is glorified in the neighborhoods like mine. Young men and little boys across America's ghettos see it as a privilege to be having sex with multiple girls and its even better when they're both having your baby and fighting over it. And matters only get worse when you have one of their main idols doing it like its the coolest thing in the world. I think its disgusting and filthy and shameful and anyone who thinks this is any way, okay, has screws loose in the brain.

What Really Grinds My Gears

Though raised in inner city Milwaukee, I have never, ever been a ghetto girl. Thugs have never intrigued me no matter how many one-liners they throw my way when I walk past the corner. Fighting to mark my territory was never necessary because you just knew. You don’t fuck with my things or shit gets bad. You should know that shit never got bad because like I said before, I am not a ghetto girl. Yes, I do have quick wit, and my tongue could probably decimate n entire army, but I attribute these things to my acquired knowledge. I’ve never been into wearing clothes that were too tight, nor have I ever been attracted to a man who can’t wear clothes that fit him properly. I find that to be very annoying actually. Flip flops and dirty feet are not a good summer match, my toes have to be properly cleaned and done before putting them out for the world to see (especially since they aren’t cutest). All of these things are kind of at the top of my pet peeves list which is why living here, in inner city Milwaukee, makes my blood boil every single day. Young girls who see it as a fad to have the next pretty boy’s baby, that pretty boy thinking its ok to fuck any and every girl who opens her legs for him, furthering the spread of STDS and AIDS/HIV. The parents who look the other way when this all goes on because they are too busy doing god knows what. These women kill me when they fight over these little ass boys who could care less about either one of them but knows he could have both if he wanted it that way. Girls who don’t clean their ass. What the hell is that? Isn’t that one of the first things you learn before you even walk through the doors to preschool? Why would you NOT want to be clean? It’s a wonderful feeling and it can do a pretty good job of brightening any bad day, even just a little bit. I don’t understand. These girls always complain about never meeting quality men, but how can you expect to attract anything other than a dirty, wanna-be thug if you never wash your ass? These are just some of things that really grind my gears about living in the ghetto. I really don’t belong here and I can’t wait for the day I pack all of my things up and ride off into the sunset, NEVER LOOKING BACK.

and don't get me stsrted on the music... that's an entire blog in itself...

My God-Given Twin

Yeah, I complained about not ever having that shovel-toting friend and I forgot about the main chick I’ve had in my corner since I’ve had a corner. Shamain Jenai Love (but you may know her as Love here on PNN). Met her in the 7th grade and she was the perfect introverted complement to my rowdy, extroverted demeanor. She was quiet, and cute as a button. And I was loud, and well, I suppose you can say I was cute as a button too, but I was rough around the edges. Shamain, who is only three months older than me, took me under her wings and made me apart of her already large family. Her three younger sisters became my three younger sisters, and her parents, became my God-parents. Middle school was hard for the both of us, we were always grounded because of our poor grades, but that didn’t stop us from spending every single moment we could together. She lived a few blocks from my house, so when we weren’t at lunch arguing over the most trivial things, we were sitting next to each other on the bus trying to be avoided because we were outcasts (by far the coolest I have ever met). And when we weren’t doing that, we were walking home from the bus stop, sometimes I would flash random people and she would run away to get away from the embarrassment of it all. FUN TIMES!!! Most of our time was spent in her room dreaming up our futures together and pondering on the way of the world. She was like my soulmate, you know, the kind that Carrie talked about in that episode of Sex and the City. Yeah, that’s her. We went on to high school together and that was definitely a trying time. Boys, girls, drama, and did I mention boys. We never really fought over boys because early on we made a pact to never date a guy we were both interested in. So that was never an issue. But we both had a tendency to date really stupid guys and we fought about that OFTEN. We’ve even fell out over it but no matter what, she’s always been in my corner. I’ve always been the stubborn person in any relationship, so me apologizing was like the 2nd coming of Jesus. But she taught me humility, and chastity, and patience, and how to love me for me. And I’ve got her to thank for this simply fabulous attitude I run around with. We coined the term god-given twin to describe our relationship to each other because her parents had taken me in as their fifth daughter, and oddly enough, we share the last name. I know we haven’t been in touch with each other these past few months because of distance and circumstances, but at a time when I need her the most, she came back in my life, and I couldn’t ask for more than that. I love you god-given twin, and even though I’m probably the most stubborn and spoiled person you know, I’m here for you, and my gorgeous nephew.

XoXo,
Tia

Reading is Research

One of the famous mantras for writers is "reading is research." As writers, we need to read other books; we often have a strong to desire to. It gives us an insight to what other authors are writing. To be a good writer, you must be a good reader so its imperative to read EVERYTHING. Here is a list of some of my favorite books that I read over and over again, even though I know I should be moving on to other titles:

Midnight by Sista Souljah

What Happened to Lani Garver by Carol Plum-Ucci

The Giver by Lois Lowry

Dying for Revenge by Eric Jerome Dickey

Addicted by Zane

Black by Tracy Brown

For One More Day by Mitch Albom

What are some of your favorite books? (hoping to find a new read here)

It's Been So Long

I feel like its been FOREVER since I've stopped by to unload my brain and weird and random thoughts, but I've been mentally constipated. Unable to really speak about anything because I've been kind of muddled in the brain, but I think I'm better now. Let's see, what's new??

Well, I've been trying to mend my broken relationships with friends, I guess that's going okay. Some prove to be more stubborn than others but I guess its supposed to be worth it in the end. I don't know.

I've continued with the job search. Not much luck. I've had a few interviews that I'm still waiting to hear back from those. But, I've resigned from stressing about it. That's going to get me nowhere fast.

I've started to help Kendall pack his mountain of things for Florida. I think he's going to be leaving within the next six weeks. I am excited and scared at the same time, but at the same time, I want my baby to follow his dreams. I'll follow behind him soon after I finish up business here.

Family....eh... not feeling them too much right now. I feel so fucking cooped up in this house! I'm tired of my little sister being a mooch and so irresponsible when she has a child to take care of, and I'm more than tired of my daddy treating me like I don't take care of him. We got into a fight about it yesterday. But, I'm all better now. :)

I can't wait for girl's night out so I can reconnect with you beautiful ladies and find out what's going on in your lives.

Until then, toodaloo!!

XoXo,

Tia

If Only She Would...

I was twelve years-old when I stopped loving my mother. By that time, I had gotten my period, had my first kiss, and my first orgasm, so she had missed out on some pretty big events; they were big to me at least. I had already fallen in love with my best friend’s mother. She gave me everything I needed to fill that void, so there was no desire or need for what could have been with the woman who gave birth to me.

I stopped sending letters to the prison my mother had been housed in for the last five years. I no longer took the three hour ride to go see her twice a month. I had given up. There was no love or sympathy left. And I think she got the picture. She stopped writing and calling; only asked about me to her other five children and my grandmother. My granny was very disappointed in me, to say the least. My mother was her baby, and she couldn’t understand why I was disrespecting her by refusing to visit or write.

And I couldn’t explain it to her in terms she would understand. She grew up in a time where family members didn’t abandon one another and they stuck it out, no matter what was going on. I was raised by a man who taught me that it was my prerogative. And I took that to heart. If she couldn’t stay out of jail long enough to be there for me, why should I waste my time going to see her, when all we ever talked about was how tall I had gotten or how good I was doing in school? These topics always made for awkward situations and I got tired of consoling my crying sister every time we left the prison. So I just stopped going.

I stopped dropping letters in the mailbox not too long after that. What was there to talk about? Until she was ready to have an honest and open conversation about her parenting or lack thereof, I was on strike. My strike lasted her entire sentence. When she got out, I was 16. I had experienced so much by that time and was not the same, seven-year-old little girl I had been when she left me. I was more observant and less naïve. So I started asking questions. I needed answers. If we were ever going to move forward and establish any kind of relationship, I needed to know. But, she didn’t feel the same. She wanted to act as if that whole time period had never happened. I was not going for that shit.

I wasn’t a fool. I, like the rest of the family, knew she was a criminal and a drug addict. I knew she was good at lying and getting over on people to get what she wanted. But I refused to be a part of that party. She wouldn’t apologize or try to make any amends for the last nine years, so I cut her the hell off. And I haven’t looked back since. Do I miss her? No. Do I wish she was here? Not in the least? If I could say something to her what would it be? You disgust me.

Out of the six children she had, she took care of none. She wasn’t in the least bit responsible for either of us. All of us were in a foster home at some point in our lives; some of us grew up in foster homes. I had the privilege of being raised by my daddy. He was granted full custody of me and my sister when I was four and she was one. And that is how I got the better end of the stick. My other sisters and brothers, not so lucky. I’m not sure if it’s because they were grief-stricken over my mother’s constant disappearances or because they didn’t have someone in their life like I had my father. But I do know they are a pretty sad bunch.

I don’t blame my mother for anything wrong in my life because that would mean she had some control over me. The most I can say she does for me is shoot my anger through the fucking roof when she gets the nerve to call and ask me to come and see her.

And to those of you who just can’t take the fact that I don’t and probably won’t ever love my mother, well, the exit is to your left so simply move on.

XoXo,
Tia L.

How Many is Too Many?

After watching an episode of Sex and the City and hearing Miranda say she had slept with 42 men, I began to ponder. The wheels and gears and my mind began to move, trying to figure out this problem, balance the equation. How was this possible? How was she even sexually attracted to that many men? And most importantly, how does her vagina feel about all of this? I am not against sex, as well all know, I love sex. It is a way for a person to physically express what they feel for another, or sometimes, its just a way to get your nut. Either way, I’m all for it. However, I don’t condone a massive amount partners. It just can’t be healthy. Not to judge anyone’s lifestyle, but 42? I find it hard to be extremely attracted to that many men. In my lifetime, I’ve only been sexually attracted to three people. Granted, my lifetime only spans two decades, still. I know women my age who are fucking like it’s the new sport; changing men like they change underwear.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m no goody-two-shoes. I’ve had my handful of sex partners. When Kendall and I took that lengthy break, well, I had to do something to fill my void. I was having a conversation with a friend the other day, who we will call for Betty. Betty and I are talking about the average number of sex partners the average woman has before she gets married. Betty says sixty is an ok number. I dropped my jaw to the floor. Sixty? Was she for real with this? What man is attracted to any woman that has had casual sex with sixty men? I asked her this and then Betty says, its all to help you find Mr. Right. I had to shake my head and resign from the conversation. Surely we don’t have to sleep with every man that comes along to weed out the bad seeds until we find Mr. Right? Is this true?

So, what’s a reasonable number to you?

What Are Friends For Anyway?

Friends. We all have them, all need them, and for our own separate reasons, we sometimes leave them. But, unlike spouses, friends are usually there for the good, the bad, the ugly; the “for better or worse”; the things that your boyfriend usually tunes you out for. Friends are important and vital to our life (whether we would like to admit it or not), but what do you do when friendship seems to be harming more than hurting? When friends turn that back on you and betray your trust, where do you turn?

They say that you are blessed if you can count the number of really good friends you have on five fingers. I second this statement. I’ve been blessed to go through many different friendships. As I’ve grown, I’ve come to realize that some friendships aren’t meant to last. Some people come into your life for a certain period of time to teach you lessons about life, and there are some who are meant to be here forever. You know, that one friend that you can call at one o’ clock in the morning if you accidentally murder your boyfriend. Instead of freaking out and calling the police, she’ll be at your door with a shovel and body bag. Not that I am condoning the accidental killing of your husband/boyfriend…

From my own personal experiences, I have yet to find that friend who will show up at my door with a shovel. I’ve had the friends that taught me a myriad of life lessons, though. And I have to wonder. Which is more important? Do you only need a few friends every few years to add to your vast repertoire of life knowledge? Or is the shovel-carrying friend a major necessity for every woman? I can’t decide because I’ve been fooled into believing that my friends were here for a lifetime, but then I turn around and sniff the staunch scent of betrayal. So what do you think?

This is not to say that I don’t crave that connection with another woman. I do. I just can’t help wondering if it’s really necessary. I can take myself to a matinee when I wanna play hookey from work. I can take myself to happy hour and sip on a rainbow margarita alone. But it isn’t half as fun as doing it with that one friend you can bitch too about the guy who won’t stop staring at your ass every time you walk to the bathroom. If it isn’t a necessity, why do I feel like a large part of me is missing?

I’ve got the guy, so it isn’t romantic companionship that I seek. I even have a few friends that I go to for advice every now and then. But, I have had no luck with a friend from the shovel-toting variety. So again, I have to question, is she really necessary? What’s your take on it?
I ask because I believe that I have successfully lost another “real and true” “best” friend. We’ve been friends since the 7th grade, and she was very, very dear to me. I trusted her more than most and she was the one I turned to when I couldn’t tell anybody else what was going on. But, alas, our attitudes seemed to have ended things for us. We went out about a week ago and she had the most ridiculously pissy attitude with me for God knows why. I asked her what was up, but she just shut me out for about two hours. And then, when she dropped me off at home, she just sped off without saying a word. First thing that came to my mind: bitch! But I let that anger go, thinking she would explain. No such luck. I haven’t spoken to her since. And now she’s being childish and telling all of our mutual friends that she knows who her “real” friends are and that she can’t trust those that she thought she could. It seems as if she’s trying to get a rise out of me, but at this point in my life, I wouldn’t recommend that. I’m like a ticking bomb just waiting for something to set me off and then KABOOM! out comes the entire contents of my brain, which cannot be good for anyone involved.

But whatever. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt my feelings. After everything I’ve been through in the last two years with friends, family, school, and everything else, I thought she would be the last cookie to crumble. But just because I am sad doesn’t mean I will allow her to walk over me with her attitude. If that’s the way the cookie crumbles, then, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. I like doughnuts better anyway.

But, I must say that I may have found my shovel-toting friend. I don't want to speak to soon, but, she came into my life in February and she hasn't left since. We've had our friendship fall outs and everything, and she's still here. She is a little cooky, and scatterbrained, and sheltered, but she has more common sense then a lot of girls I know. I love her dearly, and for my sake and hers, I hope that she is here to stay.

Whenever "Never" Stops

Today, while Kendall and I sat thinking of a clever title for my website, he came up with one of the brightest ideas I wish I would have had. He said it represents me overcoming my own obstacles to succeed. Things like writer's block that stand in the way of me doing what I am most passionate about. Or how I allow glitches in my friendships to make me believe that there is a glitch within myself. It is time for me to stand up and pick up the pieces. I know I have been broke, but life is an ongoing process. It was never cool for me to sideline myself and watch the action as it passes. I've always wanted to be right in the thick of the action, and now, feeling defeated, I have given up; raised the white flag in a sense. However, I think that I will be reversing things. All of my problems and issues will be surrendering to me because I refuse to become a victim of circumstance. Life is as precious as a diamond, so its time for me to take matters into my own hand and rock the Earth to its core. Shake things up. People have become to comfortable with the status quo, and I am all about progression. Doing better and better. Becoming a professional writer. Graduating with a bachelor's in English Education. Marrying the man of my dreams. Having my two children and influencing others in the most positive of ways. These are my dreams and sitting on my ass staring at the wall everyday, is not bringing me any closer to achieving them. Its time to take action. Drop can't from the vocabulary and pick up some letters to form the letter that will change my soul and my disposition; give me a greater outlook on life as I move forward. Marking my spot in time so that when I leave, I'll have made a difference somewhere to somebody. :)

Rants & Raves

Too many sounds. Not enough hours of silence. Sensory overload. My thoughts are being held captive by my brain, like too my innocent people being held captive by the American prison system. How, am I supposed to think? How am I ever supposed to come up with a fool-proof plan to make it out of here alive. How am I supposed to write the conclusion to my struggle, if the thought that holds the key to my personal freedom, is locked away in the back of my mind? Where I don’t go because it is eternal night, and well, I’m kind of afraid of the dark. Scratch that. I’m very afraid of the dark. Not knowing the unknowns paralyzes my body and my mind with fear, sending me into shock. And then there is nothing. This is my daily routine. Moving back home has potentially scarred me from ever having a big family. I love my father to death and I would do anything for him, but, he’s wearing on my nerves. And my little sister, well, she’s as filthy as a pig. And for her to be raising a baby, she is making life pretty fucking hard for the rest of us. I don’t have any kids, so I don’t see any reason why my schedule should be delayed because of one. Don’t get me wrong, I love my niece. But when she shits in the middle of taking a bath and my sister just packs up and leaves to her boyfriend’s house like nothing has happened, I have problems with that. I knew what the deal was when my sister called me at the age of 15 to tell me she was pregnant. Now, two years later, my sister has barely taking any responsibility and she isn’t being a very good parent. She is so busy running up behind her sheister boyfriend, that she doesn’t even have time to sit down and choose a proper daycare for her daughter. She’s a know-it-all so taking advice from people who have been parents for years (i.e. our father) is a no-go. I’m getting really sick and tired of her whole, whack parenting charade; trying to pass off her daughter on someone else because its getting to be too hard. I always ask her, what were you expecting? You thought raising a child would be all fun and games? Negative. I don’t know what she’s expecting, but the minute I get the courage, I am out of here. Love them both, but I don’t have those kind of obligations, and I definitely don’t intend to be cleaning baby shit out of the tub for the next year or so.

Jobless, Classless, Its Making Me Restless

Life is rough. Like really rough. After two years at Marquette University, I had to call that quits. And now I’ve transferred to UWM and I’ve changed my major to education. Marquette has drained me of my desire to be a journalist. So I quit that too. So, all is ready and set for me to attend UWM. Except, I have to give them my final transcripts. And that’s all fine and dandy except for the fact that I can’t get those transcripts until I pay Marquette about $1,950. CRUD. This would all be ok if I were employed with a stable job and had a source of income. All of this is leaving me with a major attitude. If I don’t get my transcripts to UWM, I will not be attending school this fall, which will then result in me having to begin paying my loans back, which will then result in me defaulting on my loans because I don’t have a job, which will then lead to…. ? I don’t know, I’m afraid to find out. It’s all a process though. I’ve been searching avidly for a job since the beginning of April. No luck. There are open interviews on Sunday for security at Summerfest and the following festivals. Maybe, there will be some luck then. If not, I just may fall into a depression. I haven’t been inside of a mall, a store, or tried on a shoe in months. Depressing.

Conflicted Emotions

Conflicting Emotions: Battle of Two Different Women, One Mind

I am of one mind. One body. One Soul. Usually, I agree with myself on a lot of things: political issues, whether or not homework is getting done, what to wear to when going out, etc. Kendall is moving to Florida. It’s a for sure thing, just not so sure about the dates. He is looking to start the semester on July 29 of this year, so he’ll probably be leaving a couple of weeks before that date. This is where I am split in two and the debate begins. One half of me wants to see my man go down there and be the best he can be at doing what he loves. I want him to go and get that degree so we can start our life together with some stability. I want him to be happy and he has put off this dream long enough. It’s time for him to make himself as happy as he has made me.

The other side of me (the more bitchy, margarita sipping side) says that is bullshit. She tends to be pretty selfish and doesn’t think of much else besides what makes her the happiest. And indeed Kendall does make her happy. So, this whole moving to Florida thing to follow his dream is not flying with her. She is willing to go apeshit, balls against the wall at the airport in order to make her man stay. She thinks that I am being too sensitive and need to stop him in his tracks. I tell her she’s being too needy and she needs to let that caterpillar spread its wings and prepare to fly. I assure her that he’ll be back and that this will give her a reason to go to Florida and shop in South Beach. She does not listen to my reasoning. She only continues her daily rampage of throwing my shit around the room and random bouts of screaming and crying.
This is how our conversations usually go:

Sane Me (SM): He’s really going to go. I’m happy for him.

Psychotic Me (PM): FUCK THAT! He will go to hell before he leaves me. (throws clothes across room)

SM: why do you feel so harshly about this?

PM: I have been through hell and hot water for him, he isn’t leaving me here in dead ass Milwaukee to go frolic in the sands of Florida beaches. FUCK NO and that’s final (punches a pillow)

SM: well, you do know I’ve been helping him get ready right? Searching for flights and apartments and stuff.

PM: yes and I’ve been meaning to tell you to STOP THAT SHIT. If he feels that you’re behind him and support his decision, he’s really going to go.

SM: … that’s kind of the point.

PM: you have got to be the biggest bitch ever (sits down on bed and pokes lip way out)

SM: no, that’s your job. Just calm down. I have this under control. This is the best decision for all of us.

After this conversation, she usually settles down and goes back to wherever the hell she comes from. And I proceed to clean up the mess she made during her tantrum. It’s all quite hilarious when I am able to sit back and look at them objectively. But sometimes, it just creeps me the hell out.

Tia Love

I Cut My Hair!!!

So, I've finally done it! I worked up the courage to stop relaxing my hair and putting chemicals in it and I've cut the rest of the relaxed parts of my hair down to what is naturally me. I couldn't feel more beautiful or more in love with myself if I tried. I've finally let go of trying to be everyone else's idea of beauty, and now I am beautiful in my eyes. Oh, and Fiancee thinks I look exotic. What do you think?

Undefined Beauty

What is beauty? That question is often tossed around in society today, and society has a pretty general idea of what it likes to look at. Conventional beauty includes the long, full hair, the pouty lips, the gorgeous, sexy and seductive eyes, the physically fit body that fits into every pair of skinny jeans and women who wear heels for every fuckin occassion. My thoughts on this? Fuck Society? Nobody is anywhere near perfect and thats what these standards are looking for. All of us don't like long, full hair. Some of us beautiful people rock bold, colorful, beautiful pixie cuts (or even ponytails somedays). Some of us have dark eyes, as opposed to those light ones Society is always ranting and raving about. Everybody's lips can't poke out from their face and that's fine. And what if, just maybe, we don't like skinny jeans? What if we like big, toned thighs along with a gorgeous round butt? What about breasts that aren't bigger than a 'b' cup? What about those of us who can't afford breast implants? Fuck you two times over, Society. And this heels thing, sure they're nice, and they look really good when you're going to the club with your ladies, or you have a presentation and you're rocking a sexy pencil skirt. Sure, go right ahead and slip on gorgeous slingbacks or peeptoe pumps, but don't by any means make me feel guilty when I want to stick my feet into a pair of flats or tennis shoes. Fuck you again society. We don't need makeup to enhance the natural beauty we were born with. My face is fine just the way it is, and so are my ample curves. I don't need to lose inches of my 42" hips. I don't need to stop eating noodles and italian food to decrease the size of my 34" waist because I know somebody who likes the softness of my tummy. Formed from not enough cartons of ice creams and chicken. So fuck you society for creating this retarded ass definition of beauty for everyone to live up to, but thank you so much for allowing me to understand that undefined beauty is the real definition of beauty.

I Love Me (You should love you too)

Excuse me if I'm just a little to full of myself
but...
somebody important once told me I was beautiful
not only that but he said that my mind and its many complex gears would one day be useful
so...
forgive me if your put-downs and condescending views don't affect me
because my beautiful head is just to big for you to see.
I was taught to believe that beauty is only skin deep
so that the venom you spit to demolish my character wouldn't harm me
But you see, I comprehend farther than you would like me to
You want the girl that I see in the mirror to be an unsure
unstable
ugly creature like you
sorry you have to give up that nightmare, because a happy, sexy person such as myself is standing here today
and i want every insecure person to listen to the words I have to say

"You don't have to be alone and cry at night.
Look in the mirror, tell the person you see that you love them,
and things will start to be alright.
Don't abuse and tarnish your image of you
because its what others like to do.
Love you for you
and don't worry about anybody else
because the truest love felt
is the love we have for self."

As you travel life's long, arduous journey
always stay true to what's on the inside
let that beauty shine through to the outside,
seep through the pores of your tough hide,
stick out like a sore thumb and relax in your own individual shine!
show the world that you are beautiful
and you're not afraid to admit it
and fuck the world if they say they can't feel it
if anybody should have a problem with your beliefs,
turn around and tell them to kiss it
diversify the words you allow to travel between your ears
instead of choruses of "if only i's.." and "i wish i were's..."
let's hear how much you love yourself amongst a chorus of cheers

"Numerous cheers for Tia Love because she's the shit!
And I won't let anybody else have me second-guessing on it!"

You see, if you put your head where my mind frame was set
anything negative anybody would have to say you would easily forget
because you would know that no matter what you would be the baddest
and no one could take your title because you knew you always had it
and that one view that didnt match yours, you'd trash it!
There would be no need for a third party to come in and arbitrate
because you and you a passionate couple do make
realize that you are all you need
and forget what everybody else has to think
let the person who you are most in love with be you
and always remember you are beautiful no matter what they do

..thats just the way people like me think...

WTF?

I've never been a super big fan of animals, but I am an advocate for equality across species. I just read this article about two scientists who tested LSD on an elephant in 1962. The elephant had violent seizures and died like two hours later from asphyxiation. WTF were they thinking? Here is a link to the story.

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/the-acid-test-worlds-weirdest-experiments-886008.html

Fuck You Writer's Block

Ahhh!!! Attack of the idiot, nonsensical, bullshit ass writer's block. Excuse my French, but I have been trying to finish my novel for months. I also have several poems with beginnings and no ends. I do not like incompleteness. Writer's Block is messing up my flow and making me feel like a major EPIC FAIL. Everytime I sit down to even try and release my inner thoughts, something stops me. I don't know what it is, why it's here, or how the hell to get rid of it, but it really needs to disappear with a quickness because I need to get back to doing what it is that I do best. Expressing myself on paper. If I don't, I might erupt like Mt. Vesuvius, and then, no one in the vicinity will be happy.

What do you do to get rid of writer's block?

Therapy 2007

This poem is dedicated to anyone who has ever been there....

These words are meant to inspire
When the tears at night aren’t doing their job,
And you can’t seem to hold yourself tight enough,
Turn to these words.
Wrapped in care,
Spoken with genuine love,
I just want these words to take care of you
Uplift that beautiful soul and put a smile on your face
Because I’m tired of seeing you cry.
It’s not much,
But its what kept me alive
When that emotional shit was eating me up inside
And all I really wanted to do was die
Yeah, the prospect was looking more inviting ever day.

First and foremost,
Know that you are beautiful
And no one is more important to you than you
Niggas can’t handle it
And girls who hate it call you a bitch
But
They don’t matter when you’re in a relationship with yourself
Loving you as much as you deserve
And I know its some niggas with a lot of nerve
Some who have made you compromise your purity and beauty
To be treated as something beneath a boy
Who doesn’t have the balls to feel like a man
Without taking something that doesn’t belong to him.
He may have gotten away with raping your physical
But never let that sick mothafucka think he got away with your soul
It’s the only thing that’s keeping you whole
And truth be told…
His sorry ass aint worth the tears.
Never give up on dreaming or living your life because of your fears
Don’t doubt your self-worth because somebody failed to see you
For the diamond in the rough that you really are
Take a look in the mirror to make sure you see yourself
For the special person you are
Don’t hold on to that hate in your heart
Realize forgiveness is the greatest place to start
If you don’t know how that goes,
just follow my example:

Dear Mr. Man who raped ME:

You probably thought you had me fooled
And you definitely didn’t think you’d be hearing from me so soon
Especially with this smile on my face
I came to terms with what you took away
But from that experience I gained so much more
Then whatever the hell you were going for
I’ve realized that I’m worthy of real love
Which will always be given from the man above
And if you can’t learn to respect me as a woman
Then be prepared to lose your rights as a human
Because I will no longer be silent.

I don’t hate you
And I don’t want to kill you
Though you deserve nothing less
Than the best
Cracking down on yo skull
With weighty boots…
But I got something better…
I forgive you…

Sincerely,
God’s Child

Hershey's eats Peanuts

Last night, to start off the celebration for our anniversary, Kendall and I went to a book launch/cd party for one of his team members (Kendall is on the national slam poetry team from milwaukee). It was so nice. Before the lady (her name is Dasha Kelly) did her book signing, she performed some of her poems and essays and it was amazing. She compared an orgasm to catching a fly. How amazing is that? It was all so beautiful. She spoke and sang and looked so beautiful.The food was delicious, fiancee was looking gorgeous, and I got her book and CD. Her book is called Hershey's eats Peanuts and its a collection of her prose, essays, and poetry about her observations of the world. It too is fairly amazing and I am so glad we went. I can't wait until Kendall comes out with his own book and cd.

A Perfect Match That Lights Every Time

"All it took was one kiss to know, if you come across a piece of you that's missin, you should never let it go.."

Powerful words from my future husband that still ring true to this day. Four years ago on this day, we shared our first kiss. The kiss that forever entwined our hearts. And I've been hooked like a fish to bait ever since.

Happy Anniversary to us!!!

Why Do We Forgive His Transgressions?

I talked to a good friend of mine on facebook and he asked me why do women always ditch the nice guy and go for the loser who will do them wrong. I couldn't answer this question personally because as we all know, I am dating the nerd of the century. But the best answer I could give him is that often times, women want to date the man that is the most unobtainable. And that man is usually desired by alot of women, and when he knows this, he uses it to his advantage. But its human nature to desire that which we know we cannot have, so this all makes sense right? Also, some women suffer from self-esteem issues so they don't see themselves as worthy or deserving of the good man. Its all very confusing for me because when the nerd sat next to me in Spanish four years ago, I fell in love and I haven't looked back since. But, I did write a poem about this particular situation. Hope you like.

Why do we forgive his transgressions?
because we laid down and let him sex us so good and thought he had our soul confessin?
"you're the best I've ever had."
and truthfully, we're probably lying
but too many have slept here and left us here
crying
so we're willing to go out on that limb
just so he'll kick it with us again
find a reason beyond the physical to keep him coming back for more
hoping he don't leave dusty footprints at the door
so, we give 100 percent of ourselves to a man who's barely pushing 75
and when the word ain't even in his vocabulary
we're focused on keeping the love alive
and now... we've forced it
pushed the envelope a tad bit too far
and now its all hanging out
got exactly what we wanted right?
he's living up at your house
buying you clothes, food, and shoes
and every single night he got you singing to his tune
and
you love him
the planets have aligned
the poles have shifted
the sun has exploded
and you love him
you find yourself back in that place again
you've merged souls
and convinced yourself that this time will be different
even though he's showing the same signs of indifference
and he hasn't given you any reason to believe he'll be faithful to you
but a woman scorned has to do what a woman scorned has to do
so he cheats
and its ok because
"every man does it and I was holding out on my loving
and he promised it wouldn't happen a second time"
but did he also promise he wouldn't black yo eyes?
bust yo lip?
and send you to the hospital lying about a broken rib?
so, why do we forgive his transgressions?
when our friends ask us what the hell is going on, we're confessin
"nobody will ever love me the way he does"
and truthfully, WE ARE LYING
steady trying
to convince ourselves that he is the one
when reality sinks in and we painfully realize that we should have been done
when he took step one:
"yo baby, you got a man?"
"no, i don't but you can't be him
because i can see the forest for the trees
and I know that you and I ain't meant to be
cause from the look of you, I can tell you could never take care of me
I am not putting myself in the compromising position
to ever have to forgive you for any painful transgression
so don't waste your time and keep it steppin'
because from men like you, i've learned an eternity of valuable lessons.....

"Mama"

A lot of people find this to be a controversial piece, but I beg to differ. These are my heart's feelings, and how can that be controversial?

I loved you unconditionally for the first 7 years of my life
you weren't around that much
and that was alright
because you can't really miss something you didn't have in the first place
after 7, I kept plastering that fake ass smile on my face
two times a month
when I found myself in your discomforting space
being showered by your bleak presence
this is not a dedication poem
because those few Christmas presents
do not make up for years of missed birthdays
awkward phone calls
and absences at times when I needed you the most.
I find that my relationships with other women are strange
because the one who gave birth to me can barely remember my name
and you expect my feelings of childhood love to maintain?
naw, cuz see, unlike Lupe
"if we could break down these walls to set you free..."
we probably wouldn't.
I am not worried about saying things that I shouldn't
because when I desired a mother to be in my life,
you couldn't.
too busy wrapped up in your rapid life of
drugs
lies
schemes
and ignoring the reasons why you and me don't speak
you ever wonder why out of the six kids you have
I am the only one who doesn't bend over to kiss your ass?
because I...
don't eat bullshit
my father is a real man
so that fake shit you feed me
my body rejects
for you, I lack respect
because to get it,
you've got to give it
and you've already shown me how much you value my life and your place in it
so you won't see me crying tears of joy at your long-awaited homecoming
I'd rather you stay where you are
I've moved through life without you just fine so far
you think you've got something to offer me
but how can you knock the dust off of an already shining star?
people curse me for the way I feel
they say I should pay you your dues
so for bringing me into the world
when you were so hellbent on leaving me behind...
Thank you.

And So the Dance Begins... Day 1

Height: 5'8"

Starting Weight: 175 lbs

Starting measurements: 40-38-42

Today I walked: 2.09 mi in 39 min 41 sec

I burned 173.1 calories.

I have been battling with my weight and self-image for a year now and I've finally made the decision to get off of my fat ass and do something about it. Big women run in my family and at the rate that I am growing, I'm not far from looking like them. I run a risk for diabetes and high blood pressure so I want to be healthy. I am not looking to be a size 2 at 120 lbs. That doesn't seem like it would be right. I am only looking to lose about twenty pounds and knock a few inches off of my waistline. This is sure to be a challenge because I love to eat. And I don't like to work out.
But something has to be done. Wish me luck!!!

This is how I look now:

4-year-olds and Beauty Pageants

I watched a commercial for some show about mother's who enter there very young daughters in beauty pageants. And instantly, I was disgusted. Why is there a standard of beauty for four-year olds? Life is rough enough as it is being a woman living in a society with a set ideal of beauty, and I now realize why. All little girls should be told they're beautiful. Mothers and fathers should be helping to build their young daughter's self- esteem. But that is not the case. How can a parent look into their daughter's eyes and tell them she is the most beautiful little girl they've ever seen, and then put them up against other girls to be judged on that beauty? And what happens when they lose? How is your daughter suppose to trust what you said? If she were the most beautiful little girl in the world, wouldn't she have one the contest?

And this is where it all starts. From a very young age, we are taught that our beauty is of the utmost importance, especially in comparison with other girls. We are engineered to try and become America's standard of beauty. This in turn creates a lot of self-esteem in millions of females across the country. The average American girl is not what is displayed in the magazines or on tv. She is not a size 2, she is a size 10. And I wish more women knew this so they to could break free of this tragic spell and recognize their own true beauty.

But seriously, four-year-olds and beauty pageants? That's a surefire way to fuck up someone's existence. Enough to make girls hate other girls based on looks and body size. I have found the reason behind all of these female drama. We start at a young age envying those who we believe to be more beautiful than ourselves and the envy and jealous just sits and festers. But if we all begin to see each other as unique individuals who were made to look different from every other human being on Earth, then, maybe we can start to clear the air.

Maybe?

What Do You Do When You Lose Faith in Family?

What do you do when you lose faith in family? Isn't family supposed to be that one crutch you can always lean on? Such is not the case with mine. My mother is alive, but I lost her at a young age to drugs and the criminal life. So there was never really much there for me to depend on. My father has been there since day one and he is my favorite person in the whole word because of his undying support. I have four brothers and four sisters. One of my sisters passed away when I was 11 from sickle-cell anemia, and I was never close to any of my brothers. Three of them older than me and all of them womanizers, alcoholics and drug abusers. I loved them nonetheless. My little brother I haven't seen in 14 years so there was no way for us to build a relationship. My other two older sisters are the most dysfunctional women I've ever met. They have no sense about themselves on how to live life or raise children. And my younger sister is falling right in line with them. I feel awkward because out of all of these children my parents created, I am the only pone to graduate from high school and go to college. Granted, it is a struggle, I see it as something neccesary to improve my living conditions. And my family members, have not been helping. They have kind of been shunning me, making me feel like the black sheep because I went to school and wasnt as concerned with finding a man to lay down and have babies with. Am I so wrong for wanting more out of life? In all my twenty years, all I've ever known is poverty. Am I wrong for wanting to see what the rest of the world offers?

So, what do you doo when you lose faith in family?

My Black Man

I was on the Forensics and Debate team in high school and I performed in the Poetry category. This is one of the poems I wrote to perform as a dedication to Kendall (my Hunni). Hope you like!

my black man is the icon of male perfection
this well screened selection
teamed with his undying love and affection
keeps other people guessin
just...where did she find a black man like that
with the widest of shoulders and the broadest of backs
a mind comprised of intelligence and warlike tact
my black man was genetically manufactured to succeed
n a world where the african-american male plight has been decreed
to amount to nothin and keepin him @ the bottom and runnin thru these streets
while the competition comfortably slips between satin & silk sheets
my black man may have eyes as dark as coal
but he also has the ability to look into the deep depths of your soul
and with just one glance from those eyes, he makes me feel whole
and i manage to somehow forget that its my breath he stole
my black man, oh yes, please believe, he's the bomb
the thoughts that marinate in his mind, they turn me on
his soft kiss and petal like caress keeps me going strong
and singing all night about how he's killing me softly with his song
my black man has a legitimate job
and when he walks gracefully in those suits he's every womans heart throb
but he's coming home to me ladies for he would never want to make me sob
my black man KNOWS how to treat this black woman
the magnitude of love he shows keeps on coming
and you would never be able to understand the way his love keeps my heart drumming
"thump thump" it goes full of his lovin
my black man is the epitome of fine
his well-chiseled upper body makes the ladies swoon every time
to look as good as he does should be a federal crime


i love my black man because he loves me
he treats me with respect as if it were his duty
he cherishes any ground that is placed beneath my feet
and thanks god himself...for the very air i breathe
my black man has the world in the palm of his hand
and every other man wants to stand where he stands
looking down on all the rest
doing what it is that he does best
being my black man

my black man is just that...my black man.

Hi!

Hello to anyone that is reading this blog! I am not a professional blogger, nor am I a professional writer. But I do blog alot and I do enjoy writing; both poetry and novels. I am a sophomore in college student with a double major in Education and English. I want to become a high school English teacher. I am engaged to my best friend, and the date is set for May 20, 2011. But that's just tentative for now. I love him a lot, and he plays a major role in my everyday life, so you will be reading a lot about him. I don't have many friends, and that's because I like to be honest. The people that I used to call my friends didn't appreciate honesty, so we went our separate ways. I am open to making new friends though, because every woman needs them (like she needs a good pair of pumps)! I am 20 years old and I am currently living with my father as his personal care assistant because he is disabled and I help him out. I'm very opinionated and observant and I love hearing what others have to say. I hope you find my posts to be interesting, inspiring, or just plain comical. So, Enjoy!

Love,

Tia

~CarpeDiem~

 And I always wear a smile :)