Loving Life!

I am so loving life right now. I would like to think that everyone is, but as we know that is not the case. If your struggling keep your head up in the end it will be perfect. Don't let the haters get you down. Keep living life!!!

my flow can part a sea

I am simply tired.

I am tired of living like this.

I am tired of getting my gut ripped out from under me.

I feel all alone in this house.

I am on the edge of just falling.

Falling into something I'm not ready for.
I am not ready to go.

But sometimes you just have to think

that something has to be on the otherside.

Freedom, a chance to breathe

because surrounded in these dry wall walls are cutting off my air supply.
and i feel something fatal coming on.

I drift, drift, drift, drift, drift...

--Pea

Write Your Own Damn Blog!

A man is wearing a blue shirt. A group of catty women are standing nearby when another man comes along and asks what color the mans shirt is. The women each have a different answer: aqua, sky blue, sea green, baby blue, purple. <---Of course, purple came from the chic who only sees what she wants.

They all see the same shirt, but their perceptions of said shirt are all different. This is true in all matters in our lives. What I may see as hilarious, you may see as stupid.

With that being said...my thoughts, memories and views probably won't be the same as yours. Even if I'm talking about something that you were there for...I may remember it a different way than you.

You are certainly welcome to add your views and perceptions to the comment section, but you are not welcome to debate my memories with me. If you have a problem with what I've written, you can write your own damn blog!

This blog isn't intended to offend anyone. It's just a place for me to write and share things and a place for y'all to be entertained.

--Just a Chic

Being Black in the Work Place

They take my kindness for weakness.
They take my silence for speechless.
They consider my uniqueness strange.
They call my language slang.
They see my confidence as conceit.
They see my mistakes as defeat.
They consider my success accidental.
They minimize my intelligence to "potential".
My questions mean "I'm unaware".
My advancement is somehow unfair.
Any praise is preferential treatment.
To voice concern is discontentment.
If I stand up for myself, I'm too defensive.
If I don't trust them, I'm too apprehensive.
I'm defiant ! if I separate.
I'm fake if I assimilate.
Yet, constantly I am faced with work place hate.
My character is constantly under attack.
Pride for my race makes me, "TOO BLACK". Yet, I can only be me. And, who am I you ask?

I am that Strong Black Person...

Who stands on the backs of my ancestor's achievements, with anerect spine pointing to the stars with pride, dignity and respectwhich lets the work place in America know, that I not only possessthe ability to play by the rules, but I can make them as well!
Black History 365

~ Arthur Unknown ~

The Goddess' Chant

I am all women, I am every woman.

Wherever women are suffering,

I am there.

Wherever woman are struggling,

I am there.

Wherever woman are fighting for their liberation,

I am there.

I am at the bedside of the woman giving birth,

screaming in labor;

I am with the women selling their bodies

in third world countries

so that her children may eat;

I am with the woman selling her

body in the streets of American cities

to feed the habit she acquired

from her boyfriend.

I am with the woman who never sees

the light outside her kitchen;

I am with the woman who never sees

the light outside her factory;

I am with the woman whose fingers

are still from endless typing and

whose legs ache from the high heels

she must wear to please her boss.

I am with the woman bleeding to death

on the kitchen table

of a quack abortionist;

I am with the woman answering

endless questions of

the inquisitive caseworkers;

and I am with the caseworkers,

whose dreams of making a new

social order have long been smothered

in the endless bureaucracy,

the endless forms, the racism of their superiors.

I am with the beauty queen

painting her face and spraying

her hair with poison;

I am with the black prostitute

straightening her hair

and lightening her skin;

I am with the young child

for whom an apron is the only thing

she has been taught to dream of;

I am at the hospital where a

beaten child is being treated for wounds

caused by a mother driven

by desperation past sanity,

past compassion;

I am with the fourty-five-year-old file clerk,

raped and strangled in her one-room walkup.

I am with all women; I am all women,

and our struggle grows

I am with the welfare mothers

who will not be turned away

by the indifferent legislators;

I am with the airline stewardesses

fighting to retain their jobs

after they reach thirty

and their market value has decreased;

I am with the sistah hexing Wall Street

and the bridal fairs and the beauty contests;

I am with women struggling everywhere.

And where there are women too beaten down to fight,

I will be there;

and we will take strength together.

Everywhere: for we will have a new world,

a just world, a world without

oppression and degradation.

The Goddess' Chant from Everywoman

Past, Present, and Future

In honor of April, National Poetry Month.

Excerpt from the play: THE LAST OF THE RED HOT MAMMAS, OR, THE LIBERATION OF WOMEN AS PERFORMED BY THE INMATES OF THE WORLD (1969) This play was performed at the founding convention of the Chicago Women's Liberation Union. A play performed by an entire audience, and by Marylee A., Ellen A., Amy C., Pat M. Sherry Jenkins, Amy Kesselman, Naomi Weisstein (1969)

A friend in need is a friend in deed.

Immmmm baaaack!

Yes and this time I'm talking about friends..... how many of us have them? friends.....ones we can depend on.

Just the other day I was thinking about my friends and having conversations with a few of my so called friends.

When I am in need of assistance from my friends, it's often difficult to ask and be exposed as "Human" and interdependent upon others. That is the hardest part. and it's also the part that makes me wonder how good of a friend am I.

So I considered for a while am I one of those so called friends who can only befriend someone in need? I can be that friend who can come to the rescue and save the day. I can cheer a pal who's down, I can lend a helping hand sometimes even to my own detriment. I'm a great friend in need. But am I a friend in deed?

Check this out. as I examine my inner most places, I discovered that I carry expectations. Expectations of reciprocation of intent and deed. When I'm in need, I look to my friends to be the friend that I am. I expect them to cheer me, to put themselves aside to assist me in my time of lack, to act in my stead as a champion of my best interest. no matter the personal cost to them excusing emanate detriment. Fair? NO absolutely not. When they do not come thru in the way that I would have them, I am upset, sad and sometimes angry at them simply for not being me and doing what I would have done. So why all the introspection? Why not. perhaps the world would be a better and more authentic place if it were such that more of us interdependent humans spent more time inside our selves than elsewhere. Could it be that "friendship" is a comfortable concept that has been accepted by the masses to qualify our innate interdependent nature, while preserving our fragile ego-ideals?

I think I'll be spending some time pondering this concept and get back to you all in a while. till then......keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.""

a lil sumthin that needs to come out

At this point I have so many questions. What is the meaning of Love? What is the structure of an exciting love story in contemporary times? And once the story commences how do you keep it going? How can we trust what seems real, or for that matter, how can we trust anything these days? Nothing seems to be built to last: cars, clothes, dental crowns and especially relationships. With the high divorce and infidelity rates, marriage seems like a bad bet even for people with gambling addiction. The phrase serial monogamy sounds too much like a Curable STD. Should we not have a collections of loves and/or marriages: one for sex and one for kids, one for therapy, one for companionship and maybe a Las Vegas one for fun.

I know things have changed since the 1950's especially with gender roles shifting, blurring and smearing. Women juggle the stress of careerism with the gravity of biology with a sense of truncated liberation and Men heed to the duty to provide at the risk of emotional impairment and hesitating masculinity.

The way and how we communicate these days is so conducive to the impersonal and emotional fakery. Emails/texting is such a contraceptional prophylactic agency of deception and detachment, where the virtual is virtually everywhere, competing vociferously with the staleness of a pedestrian reality. And in the land of Internet Connections, ithis and ithat, where busy people meet, and check in about their day, find out how someone is coping with their self doubt and insecurities there is insidious vapor of self-centeredness and faux connections that impede the journey to the things that we all say we want: Love and Intimacy.

I know how to love children, nature, friends, objects, things, ideas and dreams. But to love a man is something different, I am learning. It is more art and not mathematics. It is spiritual and not political. It is magical not didactical. It is a gigantic leap of faith not a calculated formula that lands one in the lap of safety and comfort. I realized that the thirst for knowledge and truth at the expense of magic destroys the spirit, blemishes the art and spoils the palate. I know first hand the failure of theory over practice, talking over hugging, and dreaming over living. As I engage my partner in the journey for love , I must simply love more from the heart and less from the mind and realize that a whisper can be more powerful than a roar and that small steps can be more meaningful than gigantic ones. But am I willing to sacrifice and dwell in places of famine and scarcity for this love and keep waiting, remaining open and not give up and not relenting to the adversary who is impudence, impotent connection, desperation? The answer is most certainly, YES.

I know patience is essential and preparedness is foundational, however the wait is killing me! Images of a past life suggest that I was a healer and that I was much too busy...or made myself to appear that way, to love and be open...My love was exhibited in the service that I constantly found myself in to those who were in need of easing of pain and suffering from life's insidious diseases and ailments. Today I suffer the ailment of heartsickness, red eyes and swollen nasal passages are clinical presentations of the deeper ailment. My prescription, to stand fast. To experience what the Sufi call "weathering that which wears you down, a firing of the soul and spirit" I know this to be true....what I possess is real, what I am able to co-create is real, and love....be it the search for such or the abandonment of the same is timeless.

I hope to apply the examples of times' greatest lovers in my journey, and that others will find a way to do the same.