Blue Days

At times I claim to have defeated my greatest enemy. Other times, it just feels so comforting, like an addict I suppose. I'm not blue at the moment, but the other day, I told myself if I would just give in for but a moment, I could pull myself right back out. I said it would make everything feel better. So I did. I told my Sun mommy didn't feel well and needed a nap and if he could just please play in the front and watch TV I would feel better in a moment. Three hours later, I did feel better, my Sun was happy to see me up. I noticed a stool had been pulled up next to the stove and the pan of muffins hubby had left on there before he went to work was empty. The kid had fended for himself. Thank god he hadn't found a need to attempt operation of the oven. I would have had to act on one of many thoughts I had as I drifted into my depression induced sleep had any catastrophe ensued for neglecting my Sun in order to baby my own emotion.

Nike as motivation

I've had a hard time recently. I am battling half of myself. The half of me that likes to convince that it is easier not to try, not to get out of bed, not to bother. This is the half that caused me to drop out of college when I got pregnant. It is very clever at creating excuses that make loads of sense. I used to think this half was simply a lazy gene a high school counselor told me I had as I barely graduated. But I now understand it is depression that I battle. It comes and goes. Mostly goes. But when it's here, it makes sure no one is unaware. I stop answering my phone and won't even check voice mails. Everything irritates me. And everything becomes next to impossible to attempt. Usually, I just lay down, all day, and hope it will leave. Sleeping means I can't overeat, I can't yell at anyone, and I don't have to have the 'recognize your higher self' pep talks my hubby likes to give. He's good at them actually. And they are quite effective after we've gotten past me throwing books at him. When I'm like this I just want to be left alone, however, that tends to be a main trigger of these episodes. When I have nothing to do, I began to feel useless. I detest feeling so. I thrive off of being useful. Particularly, I enjoy being knowledged on little known, yet gravely important truths. And I enjoy enlightening others, unintentionally. I notice I tend to assume everything I know is common knowledge. Therefore, at times, I get exasperated with regular folk. This category includes the undergrads I advise via our Black Affairs Council. I am constantly astounded when I hear myself saying stuff like, you've never heard of Little Brother? You do know the student center has more than three floors; Fastweb.com has so may scholarships you can apply for; It's considered inappropriate to tell people what you want to pledge and even worse for you to imitate their strolls and signs; All blacks ain't Christian; Original Egyptians were not the same color as me; The bible was commissioned by Constantine; The banjo comes from Africa; Integration hurt us more than helping us and so forth and so on. I mean these are all little things, but I figured everyone knew this stuff. My point. My point is that this makes me feel useful. I currently have several things I can do to feel useful, but I have had a hard time motivating myself to get to it. Just do it. Nike.

I am trying to just do it. I know I can accomplish any and all I set my mind to. But I can't seem to set my mind on anything. I haven't even been motivated to type. But I am pressing ever onward. I thought to myself today, I have a healthy family, my husband is Mr. Wonders, my kid is the cutest, I'm beautiful, healthy, inspirational (I am told), I am on the path I have set out for myself. I have concluded my human self, as opposed to my detachable spirit, is doing what Westernized humans do. I am trying to find reasons to be unhappy. I have a wonderful life except for this depression that I can't seem to kick. I can ignore it and delay it but it always returns.

I chatted with one of my online buddies yesterday and she was telling me how she has so much she can do creatively but her thing is finding the time. I told her just go after it and time will be made. I need to tell myself that. I just have to do what it is I want and it will get done. Just do it. My new mantra. Just do it.

Anything goes? For real?

I am so fickle when it comes to relationships. In particular, friendships, between women. I have many, many female friends, meaning people that I am friendly with. Nice, amicable, we can kick it and have a nice time. There are many more people with whom I am polite with and together we can get things done if needed. But as far as close friends? ....uhm.... Let me think on this here.

I probably have someone who thinks she is a close friend because we can pick up where ever we left off, but I think she tends to forget she was always very private with herself towards me. Guarded is more like it. So whenever we DO talk, she always uses terms like, "remember I told you about?"... No. I don't. You never told me. I also never asked. If you don't share, that's your prerogative. But don't expect me to dig for info. She's always so surprised that I don't remember this and that, but then, she largely forgets she never told me in the first place. That doesn't bother me so much as when I did make a move to open up she felt obliged to share that info with the info :-/ I had a friend, she's still my friend, who I think tried to be close with me. But I couldn't be that close with her. To me, she came from this perfect background, mom and dad still together. About to get married to her first 7 year old crush. Came from the suburbs, and she could braid. I don't know what that had to do with anything, but at the time, I put her on a pedestal for it. Did I mention she's gorgeous? Which heightens the fact that I had some sever insecurities at that point. Still, everywhere we'd go, her, I and another third light skinned beauty, guys would drool over us. I think it really came down to my perception that she was more "pure" than I. She'd only been with one guy, ever and I obviously did not share that same fact. So the things that occupied my mind 23/7 I could not discuss with her. Yes, that often, sometimes I wonder if my brain should have been programmed as a man the way I go there....

For at least a year, I was severely paranoid of anyone trying to make friends with me. There was a girl who was friends with me only because it was convenient. For some reason, she had thought herself as "the" girl of our circle of friends though I knew all of our people before she showed up on the scene. She went so far as to tell me one day, "the group is me, him and him, you are not apart of the inner circle." 8-0. Lucky for me, to be considered the girl of a all male inner circle group of friends you have to be fuckable by said group of friends. As a heterosexual female I was fuckable, note the prefix -able and not -ed. Once when we all headed home for some break (we were all from the same city) I called her one evening to ask her to join me at some bar. She said she was going, but emphasized it was with some of her friends from home and I probably wouldn't be comfortable (emphasizing my heterosexual status here again). Another friend of ours called me and asked me to come out and kick it at the same place so I grabbed a cab. Do you know this heifer was there with "her" friends, OUR friends? I made a point to state the obvious and when we returned to school, our first dinner back in the caf together, everyone talked around her and not to her. When she started to say things to get attention, they started saying things like, "No one cares 'Susy'," and "Blah, blah, blah." Did I mention my guy friends were all tremendous assholes? But I loved it. They had planned to be rude to her before we went to dinner because I almost did not join them as a means to express my extreme disapproval of her behavior. They insisted and promised to treat her as she deserved. They ALL did. And I will again emphasize, I Loved It. Because I am an asshole at heart. She started crying and they kept going. Eventually, I stopped bothering to be bothered with her. Because while I genuinely offered my friendship to her time and time again, she had this imagined competition with me to be "the" girl. I didn't get it then, and I don't get it now. In the long run, our friends are still My friends. And not so much her way. She got replaced.

After she left us, I had all sorts of randoms attempting to be my friend. One girl found me via BlackPlanet, yes that long ago. She claimed she was coming to our school and I looked like a cool person. Long story short, my ex, who was with her while were were together was now her boyfriend. He told her to befriend me. Random. But we, the homies and I, had been onto the whole game. We toyed with her and it was done. We began to frequent a local hangout for a while. It became Our spot. We were the regulars. But there was, regularly, a different group of girls each week there to support one of their own hoping one of my homies would get in their pants. I can't explain this phenomena nor do I care to understand, but it existed. These same girls would seek me out on campus and try to be overly friendly and buddy buddy with me, asking what was going on each night, offering I should give them my number so we could kick it. I will admit, I got a kick out of being an asshole. Mean. Just plain evil. Because they were not interested in me at all but apparently viewed me as a pawn to get to their king.

A typical convo:
them - hey girl what's goin on?
me - not a damn thing
them - ya'll kickin it tonight?
me - ya'll who?
them - you know, u and so and so
me - it's really none of your business

or

them - we should really kick it tonight
me - no we really shouldn't

or

them - hey! where's so and so?
me - do I fucking look like i carry him in my pocket?

or

them - is it hip hop night tonight?
me - why the fuck are you talking to me?

OR

If at our spot and a "they" would ask if they could sit at a table with me I'd say "no," plain and simple.

Now if a "they" showed up at someone's home when we were having a normal kickit session, meaning said they was invited and nine times out of ten was gloating to be there, I didn't pay them any mind, not rude or otherwise. But the guys, I became evil to them. Why were they letting this random have for even a nanosecond the thought that she was approved? All new females were approved by "the" girl of the group and though I previously claimed not to be worried about any of that, I embodied my role totally.

So I went through a year of that. Being mean to randoms who pretended to be nice to me to get to my guys. I am an honest person. I expect the same of everyone in return. I am also very loyal. But that's neither here nor there. After our happy little boy group plus me separated, I got married. Almost immediately. And no, my hubby did not come from within my group of friends. I don't know where he came from. But he came at the right time. I don't know if it was because I got married or because all my guys dispersed, but the female friends I did have at that time waned quickly.

And have stayed as such for the past almost five years. I've met some people, but have no desire to get to know these people or let them get to know me, the for real me. They know that I'm pleasant, and polite, and that I have a perfect marriage, all of which are lies by the way. I have two women who I spend my time with from time to time. But neither are like me. I am a scatter brain, meaning my thoughts are everywhere at once. I believe in UFO's, astral travel, matriarchy systems, talking to spirits, and nappy hair. Neither of these women are like that. My conversations are kept on general topics though they both have degrees and are very smart. But they think yoga and vegetarianism is a joke. I just cannot be myself. I am a nerd, and addicted to the internet and have had plenty of meaningful conversations with people I may never ever met, save avatar to avatar on the web. They don't get it.(Maybe they do. Maybe I'm being harsh?) And I don't give a damn if they never do.

But I think its just me. I'm too picky. I don't have this same problem with men.

I had a friend once who thought she should be my only friend. We broke up.

There was one who slept w/ my boyfriend in HS. So when she arrived to my college a semester ahead of me, she was sure to tell everyone all the grimy shit she did to me, except she said it was I who did it to her. She fucked, I mean flunked out a semester after I got there.

I had this white friend who thought she was blacker than me and called me nappy nappy dreadlocks (I had a perm) as a joke. She married some black thug who ain't tell his children's mother about her until after they married, he's been in and out of jail, no job, she supports with the same job we worked together at when we were 16. And thought we use to share clothes back then, she's 5 ft and at 200 lbs while I'm still in a size 2. And I have locs. Joke's on her I guess.

I attract crappy women I guess. But my fear is that I attract them because I am the crappy one? Do they reflect me? Boring, regular, liars, obsessive, possessive, negative, selfish, and deceitful. Maybe I am at fault because I am supposed to be like Jesus and accept everybody, flaws and all, and love them for who they rather than let who they are serve as a reason why they are unworthy of being my friend. Thank God I don't buy into Jesus... But still.

Maybe I am over thinking this. Who cares if I don't have friends? Outside of my family I have my best friend, my good friend my one friend fits all categories because there's no one else. And even that life line seems to be thinning lately. Inside my family I have my husband and Sun.

Am I whining?

It just feels as though the world is too damn big for me to be So disconnected.

Maybe I'll feel better after sleeping on it.

Feel free to leave your thoughts.

Peace.

My seven cycle

So I've always known, but come to appreciate even more today, that my life works out in these seven year cycles. Most understand seven is a divine number. But seven is also my number. I recognized it from the time I was six and wanted to be seven badly and decided it was my number forever. Numerologically, it is also my number. I feel this simply represents my direct cosmic connection to the ethers, various dimensions, ancestral spirits and of course, source energy. As a human being, it has manifested itself in the way my life has played out. Seven years after I lost my virginity, I got married (yes I was a baby). Seven years from when I initially began, I obtained my bachelor's. I overindulged in herbal remedies, trying to soothe my depression, for seven years before I was forced to quit. I also suffered depression for seven years. This year, I finally feel I am the woman I aimed to become once I was able to decide exactly what it is that is me. I defined all that in 2002. Today is 2009, seven years. It was a work in progress, an will continue to evolve, but I can say I have reached my initial vision.

So, in 2002, I decided I wanted to be happy in my skin. I no longer wanted other people's perceptions, ideas and socialization to affect how I carried myself. Because before that point I did. I had a friend, a negative little girl, who was the official naysayer to whatever I expressed interest in. When I would attempt to wear my hair out in an afro, people would say stuff like, "who she think she is? Erykah Badu wannabe." I'd go and tie my hair down. Oh, how could I forget? My last perm was in 2002. Seven years ago and now I have made this final dedication to loc'ing my hair without taking it down or cutting it for at least 6 years. Maybe I'll switch it to seven just in case. So in 2002, I met some great people who were all at various stages of fighting to be themselves. Everyone was nappy. I decided I no longer desired to have the latest fashion just because its what everyone else was wearing (it never felt right on me). I began to speak openly about what I believed and my perceptions on various ideas in the classroom even if it went completely against the grain of what everyone else was saying. I spoke firmly but would always end my statements with, "I don't even know if I'm making any sense," as a way provide a disclaimer, or apologize for what I said. But people began to smile, the "normal" people, black kids and professors with the latest styles, the cool kids, the greek people, girls with weave wraps. The moment I felt I was becoming new was the day in class when we discussed the idea of black women having to make a choice between careers and having a family. While most of the class said there was no choice, I argued that even if you get married, have kids AND a career, something would suffer. You can either be a super mom and be mediocre in your job or be a ball buster, pulling in loot and respect, but having to rely on sitters, teachers and television to raise your child. I have since re-evaluated my position, but that day, in 2002, when I made my five minute long comment, no one said a word afterwards. I felt as I must have said the dumbest thing. Then my professor leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and asked, "class?" They broke out in applause. I still get red faced thinking of it. But at that moment, I began to understand I had very different ideas and it only served for the greater of all to be sure they were heard. Today, seven years later, I am taking steps to ensure I just don't say whatever whenever. Rather, I want to implement what I know will make a difference. I started my first blog back in 2002 and since that time I've been told several times over I should write a book. I always figured I would, but I also figured who would want to read it if it's not about sex? You see, I would only want to write with a black audience in mind. Because that is what makes the most sense to me. That is who I am and who I aim to help. I don't know what it is that I will write on, but it will be something. I just am now pulling it together. I just now have the conviction that I can accomplish something like a book. Previously I thought it was procrastination and laziness that would hold me back. But once I determined it was depression that tied my hands and mind down, and after being able to pinpoint the source of that depression, I feel as I have emerged the woman I always wanted to be.

I had more to say, but something just threw me terribly off.