Castle on a Cloud

Faith Infinite

2011-04-12T23:13:00.001-04:00

An atheist professor of philosophy was speaking to his class on the problem science has with God. He asked one of his new Christian students to stand.

Professor: You are a Christian, aren’t you, son?

Student: Yes, sir.

Professor: So, you believe in God?

Student: Absolutely, sir.

Professor: Is God good?

Student: Sure.

Professor: My brother died of cancer, even though he prayed to God to heal him. Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But God didn’t. How is God good, then? Hmm?

(Student was silent)

Professor: You can’t answer, can you? Let’s start again, young fella. Is God good?

Student: Yes.

Professor: Is Satan good?

Student: No.

Professor: Where does Satan come from?

Student: From.. God.

Professor: That’s right. Tell me son, is there evil in this world?

Student: Yes.

Professor: Evil is everywhere, isn’t it? And God did make everything. Correct?

Student: Yes.

Professor: So who created evil?

(Student didn’t answer)

Professor: Is there sickness? Immortality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the world, don’t they?

Student: Yes, sir.

Professor: So, who created them?

(Student had no answer)

Professor: Science says you have 5 senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Tell me, son.. have you ever seen God?

Student: No, sir.

Professor: Tell us if you have ever heard your God.

Student: No, sir.

Professor: Have you ever felt your God, tasted your God, smelt your God? Have you ever had any sensory perception of God, for that matter?

Student: No, sir. I’m afraid I haven’t.

Professor: Yet you still believe in Him?

Student: Yes.

Professor: According to empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, Science says your God doesn’t exist. What do you say to that, son?

Student: Nothing. I only have my Faith.

Professor: Yes, Faith. And that is the problem Science has.

Student: Professor, is there such a thing as Heat?

Professor: Yes.

Student: And is there such a thing as Cold?

Professor: Yes.

Student: No, sir, there isn’t.

(The Lecture Theatre became very quiet with this turn of events)

Student: Sir, you can have lots of heat, even more heat, superheat, mega heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat. But we don’t have anything called cold. We can hit 458 Degrees below Zero which is no heat, but we can’t go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold. Cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of Heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.

(There was a pon-drop silence in the Lecture Theatre)

Student: What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?

Professor: Yes. What is night if there isn’t darkness?

Student: You’re wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of something. You can have Low Light, Normal Light, Bright Light, Flashing Light… But if you have No Light constantly, you have nothing and it’s called Darkness, isn’t it? In reality, darkness isn’t. If it is, You would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn’t you?

Professor: So what is the point you are making, young man?

Student: Sir, my point is, your Philosophical Premise is flawed.

Professor: Flawed? Can you explain how?

Student: Sir, you are working on the Premise of Duality. You argue there is Life and then there is Death, a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, Science can’t even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it. Now tell me, Professor, do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?

Professor: If you are referring to the Natural Evolutionary Process, yes of course, I do.

Student: Have you ever observed Evolution with your own eyes, sir?

(The professor shook his head with a smile, beginning to realize where the argument was going)

Student: Since no one has ever observed the Process of Evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you not a Scientist but a Preacher?

(The class was in uproar)

Student: Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the Professor’s brain?

(The class broke out into laughter)

Student: Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor’s brain, felt it, touched or smelt it? .. No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established Rules of Empirical, Stable and Demonstrable Protocol, Science says that you have no brain, sir. With all due respect, sir, how do we then trust your lectures?

(The room was silent. The Professor stared at the student, his face unfathomable)

Professor: I guess you’ll have to take them on Faith, son.

Student: That is it, sir.. exactly! The link between man and God is Faith. That is all that keeps things alive and moving!

The student was Albert Einstein.

via: beautifulboulevard.tumblr.com

Just Keep Going, You Got Nothing to Lose

2011-04-10T18:41:00.000-04:00

The meaning of life you ask? Well...Let me see...

The Story - Where Did All the Rainbows Go?

2011-03-09T01:50:00.000-05:00

I've given up. I've decided I will no longer wait in vain for your love. I will move past this and nurture the searing pain surging through me however long it lasts. Time heals all wounds? I will embrace the change, shake off my disappointments and find trust within.

Self?

I'm listening. Tell me what to do.

I'm holding hands with God and I'll brave this journey no matter how treacherous. True human companionship seems to be a figment of my imagination that I'll forever long for, but I don't want to be ignored anymore. I'm not asking for infinite wisdom or divine revelation, just happiness. I'll learn to appreciate the teeniest wonders in life despite ugly truths. If I laugh, it will be long and hearty. When I cry it'll be cleansing. I'll always think twice and hard about how I react because I believe in karma. I will open my heart to doing what's right instead of what I'm told. If fortunate to love another again, I'll make respect not only a priority but a demand. Whenever I look in the mirror I will look beyond my physical imperfections because I am more than what meets the eye. I will continue to educate my mind and feed my creative soul. And I'll dream, but it'll be in color. Rainbows.

Still a ways to go but I know my soul will never steer me wrong. I gotta story to tell. Good-bye. Farewell.

Wisdom for the Ages

2011-03-01T02:50:00.001-05:00

Another Again

2011-01-26T01:24:00.007-05:00

Someone special recently told me I was an inspiration. It surprised me and I was moved by their honesty. Never before had I thought I could or perhaps should be anyone's inspiration. There are so many chinks and sloppily glued cracks in this armour that I would be embarrassed if people really knew what I sometimes thought of myself. I am the biggest work in progress there is, but I've managed to hide huge chunks of my emotions only releasing them occasionally in small bursts until I feel ready to implode. Today I was a complete emotional wreck. Matter of fact, I woke up on the wrong side of my bed Monday morning, kicking off my day -rather my week so far- with such foulness that I haven't been able to shake since. Tuesday morning decided it would not be outdone and I ended up having to talk myself through the beginnings of a panic attack which I haven't had in several months.

I've been trying to put my finger on the common denominator between yesterday and today and the inspiration behind my offensive mood is my mounting loneliness. Since my situation with my ex-boyfriend ended abruptly and quite sourly last month, (three weeks before Christmas [after I bought His gifts -which I promptly returned]) I've managed to convince myself that I'm okay and will get through the inevitable withdrawal surely to follow. Christmas arrived and I received an insincere "Merry Christmas" via text as if He forwarded the message to all of His mobile contacts. I initially thought to respond with a hearty "Die," but I was celebrating in church. New Years nothing and since then...blip. Because there hasn't been any real closure, different scenarios come to mind on how cynical and brilliant my response will be when He eventually (hopefully?) calls/texts me professing His desires and apologizing for His faults. Not that I'll care...

What's been the absolute hardest is pretending...like I'm not hurting, losing sleep or having near break downs in public. Its never been this hard before, never. I haven't been without Him in close to three years. Its like learning to be just you again...for awhile. And maybe that's it. I haven't been just me, everything was me and Him. When I considered the Peace Corps, it was Him and I joining; Planning on my first place with Him in mind; Didn't believe in forever, but the foreseeable future held Him and I. We were: 60% infatuation, 20% neediness, 10% love, 5% craziness, 5% selfishness. I'm an inspirational, emotional wreckage.

But I miss Him.

Ramblings Before An Apocalypse

2011-01-17T05:04:00.005-05:00

It is 17 days into the New Year and I didn't create any resolutions, amendments or promises to myself but I am beginning to adapt a new outlook on how I handle situations and my reactions to them. 2010 ended with a close friend of mine asking me about what I was going to change for the New Year. I smirked and replied, "What's so different about the New Year that I can't do tomorrow? Hell, today?" I launched into my tirade about how tired I was of hearing folks come up with lists of changes and waiting for another year to usher in the "New." Pathetic.

To a degree, I was one of those "pathetics." I remember this past summer I was looking for an outlet where I could meet people with similar interests that didn't involve a smoky filled club or trying to keep links with old friends that I had absolutely nothing in common with anymore. I went to the website Meetup.com and searched for African-American (or Non African-American) book clubs and I was shocked at the results. I wanted to meet intelligent educated Black folks who could hold a conversation about the latest Wally Lamb novel or about the who's who of the publishing elite. I found one that I was interested in joining but was hesitant about e-mailing the organizer of the club. I came up with excuses: "I live too far for the weekly meetings; I don't have extra disposable income to constantly buy books; What if the members are too old?" Eventually I talked myself out of joining and decided to put it out of my head until I had a job to continually buy books and move to a borough where the commute is less tiresome. It was a pretty stupid excuse, but I stuck with it and eventually let my longing go.

I quit my internship in September and restarted my hunt for a job, but by November I grew restless and for a quick millisecond I considered the military...that's a laugh. I got a tip on the Peace Corps via e-mail and grew excited about the opportunity to travel overseas and volunteer. It was to be Plan B if a job didn't pan out by the New Year because I felt totally useless sitting around waiting on someone to give me a job. I researched everything I could find on the organization and began to tell my family and friends about the idea. I got mixed responses at best. One friend laughed at me and told me I wouldn't last while a family member encouraged me to do it before I talked myself out of it. On one hand I was excited about it: It was a new challenge. I knew I would be living in a situation that would be less than ideal (which made me increasingly uncomfortable) but I also wanted to prove to myself that I can leave home and follow through on my mission. I went away to two universities and came home each time settling for a degree from a school here in the city. I wanted to show out for the naysayers a lil' bit too, but this wasn't about anyone else. For about two weeks I warmed up to the idea of living abroad on my own for two years, until I stumbled upon a fact that wasn't mentioned in any of my initial research: I would be living alone. Alone amongst the locals within the community I would serve. It didn't sit right with me. I assumed I would be living in some sort of dorm style accommodations with other volunteers. I remember mentioning my uneasiness about it to someone and he thought I was being pretentious. In a sense I became disappointed with myself again, but there are things that I just wouldn't do and living in a developing country that could be on the brink of civil unrest is unnerving and it wasn't something I was willing to commit to after more thought. Coincidentally I watched a 20/20 special this past Friday on women being attacked and raped or sometimes killed while serving in the Peace Corps, which further solidified my position.

But the whole Peace Corps situation made me realize that I don't follow through on many things that I want to do out of fear. I want to relocate to L.A. but without financial stability and a roof I have to wait until a job comes along. I want to make new friends but I have no clue on where to find the right kind of people. Hell, I want to take a road trip but I have no car. With everything that I want to do there always seems to be an excuse waiting in the wings and I'll put it off until later because it seems like my life can't begin without the job to finance some of these goals. Seems pretty pathetic if you ask me, but I'm going to start small and always dream big.

I'm trying this new thing...a positive attitude along with some prayer brings forth positive outcomes. So far its been working. I landed two unpaid internships since the year started...it isn't a job, but I'll be keeping busy, expanding my resume and skills within my chosen career field, and building on those contacts. I actually prayed on this, since I realized how hard it is to swallow negative thinking and embrace a foreign attitude. To me prayer always meant to thank God for what you have and to ask that He continue to bless you as He saw fit. I never believed in asking God for a job or a man...it almost felt blasphemous in a way. If I asked for anything it was patience and guidance, nothing more, but I was actually encouraged to pray for exactly what I needed and for the first time I did. So maybe volunteering on a farm in Nicaragua isn't in the works, but I'm pretty sure there's better plans ahead.

Politically Incorrect

2010-11-03T02:39:00.001-04:00

cultural groups. self-identity. nationality. racism. separatism. colonialism. tribe. self-hate. regional. category. language. african-american. black. white. latin. spanish. negro. caucasian. native. other. love. respect. yourself.

Passion that Matters

2010-11-03T02:27:00.002-04:00

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...*

2010-11-01T13:09:00.009-04:00

I want to extend a a bit more on today's earlier post because I woke up still seething and in disbelief that I'm romantically involved with this individual. I'd like to express my point of view in a academic manner in which I'm accustomed since I am a young college-educated Black woman and I couldn't leave this subject matter alone just yet.

I'm a believer in the human race. A human race without categories and social constructs established by colonizers. People believe we live in this imaginary "Post-Obama" era where race isn't an issue anymore but when I'm filling out a job application and you reach the last page you're asked to identify your race and sex. Its at the end, why? Because 9x out of 10 this is what it comes down to. Not your education, not your qualifications, not your extended impressive years of work experience, but self-identity. I believe in dismissing race as an issue when it comes to many things especially since I've been on a job hunt for close to a year now. I remember when I was looking for an internship to fulfill college credit and I received great feedback even an interview or two, but there were interviews that were just too uncomfortable for it to be blamed on nerves. They didn't believe I was Black prior to meeting with me. Not with the monotone name on top of my resume paper, not with my bland accent that could be erased of a colorful "Black girl" inflection at will. No. There was another reason why they weren't impressed with my credentials.

Always drawn to knowing my ancestral history I took plenty college electives involving the history of Africa. I learned that the slaves who were brought to the tiny island of Jamaica located in the Greater Antilles were mostly Nigerian and Ghanaian. I wanted to entrench myself within that West African history and culture and learn. It was an enlightening experience to say the least but I also learned of the Africans who were left behind and were ruled by the European colonizers. They established a system, especially the Germans (Go figure) where the Africans had to self-identify by passes stating which cultural group (for lack of a better term: "tribe") they belonged to.

For example: In colonial Rwanda when the Germans "ruled" they forced the Africans to walk with passes to identify whether they were Hutus or Tutsis. When colonial rule arrived, tension already existed between the two groups and relations worsened when the Germans enforced this establishment and favored the Tutsis as the ruling class. When the German colonizers were kicked out after WWI, Belgium continued to rule with the existing hierarchy in place since the colonizers believed the two majority groups were of a different race. After WWII, Rwanda was left to its own accord, race tensions intact, later leading to the genocide of millions of Tutsis by the Hutus which long endured injustice from their German colonizers. This short history lesson is just a prime example of the evil ideologies called separatism and race.

What I've been contemplating since this argument is how do I approach this matter with him? I definitely see him in a different light now. Ironically, he's always thrown out that "I'm Spanish not Black," and I've always came back with "Yes, you are Black, culturally you are of Spanish descent." Slave catchers, killers, masters didn't identify their property by their facial features or nationality. You were identified by your skin color (which automatically made you a slave within slave territory and sub-human in the Constitution) and by your physical bearing. As big and strapping as he is, he'd be the first one to be auctioned off the block, no doubt. Your skin color is what was used to justify slavery but your physique is what made them the money. To say that someone looks like a slave is a reflection of self-hate especially when you tote the same physical attributes. There's no humor in such a ridiculous statement only pain can come from it.

There is no way to justify ignorance especially when you carry it around proudly. Just like I am not my hair, I am not my skin color, this wide nose, thick lips, high forehead, big eyes. I'm an individual made up of emotions and feelings. And until we live in a perfect world where I don't need to self-identify on a job application (Really? If you think about it, how ridiculous is this notion?), or state what percentage of "otherness" you may be, I'll embrace all of me Black and all.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

2010-11-01T02:17:00.003-04:00

It's been awhile since, I've written and ironically I was discussing this very subject with my best friend. Tonight, I was on the phone with a... errr, "friend" (after this discussion I'm not so sure). Fantasia Barrino's reality show "Fantasia for Real" was on. The episode focused on the aftermath of her attempted suicide and the media fallout. I kept focusing on how overly made up she was and her make-up being ruined as she cried while recounting the events. I thought to myself, that there are times when I feel she's an attractive around the way girl but when made up dramatically, she isn't anything to write home about.

I asked my "friend" : " Do you think Fantasia is pretty?"

Him: "No. She has too many round features. Round lips. Round head. Round nose. Just everything. Ugghh, no she's unattractive. Do you think she's attractive? "

Me: "Sometimes. I think it depends on how she wears her hair and make-up. But not on tonight's episode. No."

Him: "She looked like how slaves use to look."

My heart damn near stopped and I had to take a deep breath because I knew an argument was on the horizon. But arguing with him always ended dramatically and I knew I wouldn't be able to get my point across clearly and effectively because I usually get emotional.

Me: "I can't believe you just said that. That was so ignorant."

Him: "What was so ignorant about it? That's how slaves used to look."

I then pointed out to him that I have a wide nose, lips and forehead like the majority of Black people who roam God's green earth. He came back with the fact that my lips and nose didn't look like that. Huh? I told him that slaves looked like him, me, my mother, all the Black people in the Americas and damn near the African continent since before the slave trade began there were always slaves with our skin color, regardless of features. Black people haven't evolved physically, have they? What incensed me even more was his attempt to point out that He couldn't look like a slave because he didn't have negroid features despite his skin color. Huh? Run that by me again? Then he brought up the fact that he has "Spanish blood" and his great great grandfather/grandmother (I cant remember at this point) was German. Now, that's when my blood began to boil.

1.) Spanish is an ethnicity under the category of nationality. It is not a race. His mother is a Black woman of Costa Rican nationality (who by the way has more Negroid-ian features than Fantasia. Figure that one out.) One cannot carry "Spanish blood."

2.) To point out a distant ancestor's nationality doesn't validate your argument. It is once again, a nationality. And plenty house niggers were just that, still slave niggers, with direct White ancestry.

I teared up a bit and started yelling at him about his superior race complex that he carries around like a badge. It hit home but I'm not sure why. But it gives strength to Fantasia's accusation of the media hounding her and making her life miserable when it came out that she was seeing a married man, because of the way she looks when Alicia Keys did the exact same thing and no one paid her scandalous ass any mind. The self-hate that people carry around makes you go hmmm...

Just My Two Cents: Marriage

2010-09-03T06:06:00.001-04:00

via: Necole Bitchie

Marriage within the Biblical Christian faith was/is believed to illustrate the relationship between Christ and the Church; it also receives social, economic and political recognition within many societies. In many cultures it's also perceived as a business transaction of sorts (e.g. dowries, bride price) that benefits the husband because women were (sometimes still) considered "chattel" or property and expected to fulfill responsibilities concerning the household, husband and children.

Fast forward to today and the divorce rate in America is purportedly close to 50%. What's the direct cause? Many can speculate, but considering this country's declining moral compass and the ratio of women to men, one wouldn't need to think too hard on the possibilities. In my humble opinion, I agree with certain points that were made in the video commentary (unnecessary cussing and all), simply because of the unhappy marriages I've witnessed within my short lifetime. His animated point on when he hears about a marriage not working out was on target, "And it's so stupid for people to say, 'Oh marriage doesn't work'...Its not about marriage, its about...your relationship didn't work. You dumbass motherfucker!" Most folks I know who's marriage ended in divorce or is currently on the outs, usually never had any business being married since it may have been out of some twisted sort of convenience. Also, justifying a relationship before God only to end in divorce, is a slap in His face as well as utterly time consuming and ridiculously expensive.

I understand anyone's decision to marry and I respect it (even if it may be for nefarious reasons -Translation = entrapment), but you won't catch me, in his words, "...Walk[ing] down the aisle like the fucking pope or some shit." Just my two cents.

Emerging Adulthood

2010-08-21T03:18:00.006-04:00

The popular late 1980's African-American sitcom, A Different World, is what inspired me to attend college, particularly a historical Black college or university (HBCU). The comedy depicted the lives of several students attending the fictional Hillman College while exploring social issues, glamorizing Black sororities and fraternities, and giving an overall structure of college life. When high school drew nearer to a close, I made sure college applications were sent off and my college tour rounds were completed, because my dreams of freedom, partying, new friends and most importantly placing one foot forward toward my writing career, was becoming clearer.

Now the dust has settled (graduation) and a year later, I'm still struggling to find my footing, socially, emotionally and economically. Whitley Gilbert and Dwayne Wayne didn't mention this part. I was always so eager to become an adult because I always thought they had it...easier. I never had a problem with responsibility so I figured paying bills, would come easily; I was always a bit of a prude and uptight, so I felt confident about avoiding the wrong kinds of people; My childhood in my opinion was a bit of a choke hold, so I would finally be granted the freedom that I always desired; And lastly, I could stay up late! As I mentioned in two previous posts: Pursuit of Happiness and Forever Young, some of my peers, have started families, bought homes, jumped the broom, hell even divorced. All the signs of achieving (or failing) some form of adulthood. But what exactly defines an adult and who proposed the exact age that it should start?

Your 20's are like a 10-year period of experimentation. The self-examination stage. The reckless, defining, selfish, mistake inducing, extended developmental time in your life. Which was always defined to me as: "You're single, childless and GROWN, do whatever the fuck you want!" Especially because you have the rest of your life to set yourself on the straight and narrow. Something like what the Amish allow their adolescents to do, which is called Rumspringa. Adulthood in American society is built around this ideal: Go to college, get a job, marry, have children, and retire. The cycle repeats. But what about those who have a harder time kick starting this notion?

The New York Times reported on this growing phenomenon of 20-somethings unable to find their balance. An excerpt:

"The whole idea of milestones, of course, is something of an anachronism; it implies a lockstep march toward adulthood that is rare these days. Kids don’t shuffle along in unison on the road to maturity. They slouch toward adulthood at an uneven, highly individual pace. Some never achieve all five milestones, including those who are single or childless by choice, or unable to marry even if they wanted to because they’re gay. Others reach the milestones completely out of order, advancing professionally before committing to a monogamous relationship, having children young and marrying later, leaving school to go to work and returning to school long after becoming financially secure."

This "distinct life stage" is dubbed "emerging adulthood" by Dr. Jeffrey Arnett. As I read the 10-page report, one thought came to me: "Oh these spoiled American children," albeit I am one. My mother grew up in Jamaica during the 1960's and raised all three of her younger siblings when her mother migrated to the states. She was a mother, a big sister, a cook, a nurturer and a provider before she was 16. Would it be fair to say that her childhood was thwarted and she was forced into an adult role before she was emotionally capable? Of course. Because of my mother's abrupt childhood and early start in motherhood, she encourages me to enjoy my 20's. I also believe cultural and economic background are major factors.

"DURING THE PERIOD he calls emerging adulthood, Arnett says that young men and women are more self-focused than at any other time of life, less certain about the future and yet also more optimistic, no matter what their economic background. This is where the “sense of possibilities” comes in, he says; they have not yet tempered their idealistic visions of what awaits. “The dreary, dead-end jobs, the bitter divorces, the disappointing and disrespectful children . . . none of them imagine that this is what the future holds for them,” he wrote. Ask them if they agree with the statement “I am very sure that someday I will get to where I want to be in life,” and 96 percent of them will say yes. But despite elements that are exciting, even exhilarating, about being this age, there is a downside, too: dread, frustration, uncertainty, a sense of not quite understanding the rules of the game. More than positive or negative feelings, what Arnett heard most often was ambivalence — beginning with his finding that 60 percent of his subjects told him they felt like both grown-ups and not-quite-grown-ups."

Overall, I found the article insightful but amusing, especially when I'm one of the 20-somethings mentioned that is experiencing "a delay in achieving adulthood." Ultimately, the agreed upon version on markers of adulthood differs for most people. In my case, I thought a cool ass writing career, a sexy apartment, my own Dwayne Wayne and a comfy bank account would be all the "adulthood" I'd need. Obviously, I need to rethink it.

New York Times article link: What Is It About 20-Somethings?

Guilty Pleasure Much?

2010-08-20T18:35:00.001-04:00

Sneak peek of the Real Housewives of Atlanta Season 3:

Quote of the Day

2010-08-19T15:06:00.001-04:00

"It is said, the most violent revolutions are the revolutions of the stomach." - Rahimyar Khan

Been to Hell & Back...But I Found My Cloud

2010-08-17T04:55:00.006-04:00

The view leaving Punta Cana

Dear Journal,

It's been a hectic two months and in the midst of it all, I've neglected you. I will not ask for forgiveness but I'll admit much of it was no fault of my own. I'll give you the short version. I went on a fabulous vacation to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic and threw down with a couple of spiders, visited with my father and little brother in Orlando, FL; returned from my trip and was promptly thrown off my bliss train by the abrupt departure of my boss and was given a semi-half-assed promotion (I still didn't get the memo on what exactly my new title is). Meanwhile I was ripped off by Toshiba computers and was without my laptop for over six weeks (See? Not my fault), and this past weekend alone I was involved in a catastrophic upheaval that involved me, my sister and a 911 call. Ehh. What an eventful summer I've been having.

Even though I refuse to go into each and every detail, I've learned several things, but the most important one: I cannot change everyone around me, but I can become a better me. I will forever be a work in progress. This summer many unexpected events were thrown my way, but I realize the best solution is to step back and address every situation accordingly because ultimately, I am always in control of me and I still have to wake up and live with myself.

The Bible says, "Pride goeth before destruction and an haughty spirit before a fall; Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud."

Facebook Woes + Newfound Capabilities

2010-06-09T23:36:00.004-04:00

About a week and a half ago, I deleted my Facebook account. Its something I wanted to do for a few months but didn't really see commitment in the act and found excuses to avoid it. During my pity party session right after I encountered the man on the bus incident, I axed the account. My moment in time reason was deleting numbers from my phone wasn't cutting it and I decided to make the move. I haven't broken down and sneaked a peek into this week's latest updates from "friends" and family but I believe that I can maintain my stance. For now. Well, no I really plan to. But, I need to breakdown my initial reason for bailing out on Facebook...

Envy is defined as : "occurs when a person lacks another's (perceived) superior quality, achievement, or possession and either desires it or wishes that the other lacked it," or "derive from a sense of low self-esteem that results from an upward social comparison threatening a person's self image: another person has something that the envier considers to be important to have..."

I don't consider myself to be an envious individual. To put it plainly its a pretty pathetic trait to possess, but it isn't unusual to be filled with it once in awhile. Facebook is a social networking tool, a site where one can find long lost friends and acquaintances, discover love (e.g. my "situation"/ex-boyfriend), make awesome career connections and meet new friends (this hasn't been my case). Usually you'll befriend peers who share similar interests, likes and dislikes and upon discovering friends' photo albums (self-made or tagged) you can get caught up in their lifestyle. Now, I've never witnessed one photo album that consists of multiple pictures with people sitting around moping and depressed. The whole point of the website is "socialization" so you'll find photos of exotic vacations, nights of getting wasted and non-stop partying, people showcasing their new apartment, new babies, new cars, new girlfriend, dog, etc. Whether this is reality or fictional, I'm never really aware, but I found myself measuring my life's achievements, shortcomings and pleasures against what people pick and choose to portray about their lives. I began to feel inadequate because I felt that if "Nicole's" life was so carefree, why wasn't mine? Funny thing is, although "Nicole" and I went to high school together, I never once wrote on her wall or messaged her to see if she was actually living up to her hype. We were just Facebook "friends." High school and college peers who were introverted nerds in person and that I did happen to know personally suddenly became Mr. & Ms. Popular on Facebook. People were allowed to invent personalities because their real ones sucked. Too many Saturday nights I sat home clicking through a friend's photo album envying her lifestyle and feeling 10x lonelier and depressed than before. How pathetic.

The invention of Facebook statuses are worse as the world is full of imbeciles and Facebook proves to have one too many. People who you thought you knew have absolutely no filter and you realize how much you actually might not like the person if your friendship didn't exist before Facebook. I was getting annoyed quickly with the self-righteous bible thumpers, hypocritical announcements and the all around flakiness. Add that to the never ending public relations crisis Facebook had on their hands about their ever changing privacy issues. The thought of Mark Zuckerburg keeping a log of my cookies for kicks made me paranoid and was the final push for getting rid of my profile. I reasoned that everyone I want around, I know how to get in touch with and vice versa.

I come with a box load of my own self-esteem issues and I hate to have it worsen based on what I perceive. I'm chucking the deuces, its been a nice five years but preserving my happiness and keeping depression at bay is a longer journey and so I need as few obstacles as possible. Besides, in the next three years, it'll be some new Internet craze and Facebook will be a faded memory.

Loves+Laughs+Christmas List

2010-06-09T22:27:00.042-04:00

Loves:
My newest book obsession is Dean Koontz. I've retired Toni Morrison and fellow Black authors for a bit and decided to explore more of the thriller/mystery genre. I adore Koontz's overall story lines but his writing leaves a lot to be desired for the true literary bluffs. He tends to overwrite using lots of fluff (I actually believe he writes with a thesaurus in his lap) while dragging the back story which can leave you annoyed with the protagonist but the reader is soon rewarded for sticking it out with a courageous tale of good triumphing over evil. Based on Amazon reviews his older novels are a treat, so for my next trip to Borders I'll be indulging in:

So this evening I had my Zune on shuffle and Kanye West's "Flashing Lights" plays and I thought, "When is he coming back?" The media and public alike got what they wanted when he left the spotlight to work on his next album and even I was becoming sick of his publicity fueled antics including his tacky stripper girlfriend/escort. But as the beat knocked and I pressed the back button three more times, I realized that I missed him. Musically. Hopefully for his next release I'll get to see him in concert. None of my friends accept Kanye like I do, so I'd be alone attending his critically acclaimed shows.

Laughs:

This made my uterus scream. Children are scary.

Oh yeah, "Lamilton Taeshawn" is REAL:

Christmas List:

I never got into the re-emerging wedge trend but these Jeffrey Campbell Rox Wedge booties are the shit! I think my Gucci wallet might can flex for these babies...

Price Tag = $148.00 USD

The Orb

2010-06-02T02:17:00.007-04:00

Dear Journal,

I am allowed a pity party. I detest when others participate in their own but I need to bare an honest lonely soul. Monday morning I contemplated swallowing a bottle of prescription sleeping pills that would sufficiently put me to rest. Tears soaked my pillow as I pictured the bottle in the far reaches of my drawer. Only two footfalls away from my bed, all I needed to do was empty the bottle of pills and one by one slip the chalky oblong shaped substances into my mouth...and just swallow. So simple and so easy. I've never met anyone who hasn't been beckoned by life ending paranoia, so readers of my journal don't be paralyzed with fear that I've been tempted, yet again. My feet anchored to the bed while I thought of my four year old brother who I only met a year and a half ago and my plans to whisk him away to Disney World where dreams come true alongside the $2000 vacation I scrimped and saved for to the Dominican Republic next month. The upcoming events that last week I made painstaking sacrifices to finalize, momentarily seemed trivial. Or what about my dog? What would become of him? Would he wander around whimpering looking for his mother/owner? Those were the only things that came to mind, if I succumbed. On the very anniversary of a relative's suicide, I was thinking of my own. Loneliness encumbered my already heavy heart and I trembled at the further pains I'd have to endure if I were to continue trying to tear the thick cobwebs from around it. Lately my reading choices have eased into the macabre apocalyptic genre where humans are revealed as destructive bitter voids intent on hatred, fed by fear and moved by nothing at all. Its all fiction and false but its a glimpse into the reality of the world. Nearly three days ago, a man balled his hand into a fist and pumped me in my chest because he didn't want to give up the empty seat next to him on the bus and passengers silently sat by, mouths agape. It reminded me of an incident a few years back where I was groped by giggling school age boys in a crowded train station which evoked vivid memories of a sexual assault I've never coped with. The humiliation of that rape still causes nausea to swell into my chest at the thought of any stranger's unwelcome touch and I remembered refusing to leave my bed for days after the groping. The empty stares of the onlookers on that bus and on the subway all those years back, reminded me of people's indifference to an obvious grotesque situation and further made me realize how lonely I was. I had no one to call to receive comfort from because the triggers and violations wouldn't be understood. Not fully. I called my "situation"/ex-boyfriend for his quality reassurance and he hung up. Alone. It hurts to be lonely on the anniversary of a relative's suicide. Scary. So I rode it out. Allowed the tears to soak my pillow and listened to the small voice in my head that told me to rest and wake up later.

Two days later, I'm here.

'The Lazarus Effect'

2010-05-25T15:28:00.005-04:00

...and I realize I have it all.

Quote of the Day

2010-05-24T22:15:00.001-04:00

"Love launches us into new territory. To explore the new, the old must be left. It means leaving earlier levels of accomplishment & relationship & growing into new ones. Every act of love is a risk of the self. There are no guarantees in love. Much can go wrong: we can get hurt; we can be rejected; we can be deceived. But without risking these perils there can only be a repetition of old patterns, the routine of old comfort.
The self cannot be itself if it does not grow, & for a creature made in the image of God to grow is to love..." - Eugene H. Peterson

(quote via: She is)

Spaceship

2010-05-18T07:00:00.011-04:00

You know what I realized? Dealing with people is one of the hardest things for me to do. I don't think I've learned how to manage getting use to their egos, their pride, their baggage, their opposite personalities and their opinions. I know that this is what comes with handling and interacting with others but when you have absolutely no idea how to gauge your own colorful make-up, the two becomes an impossible juggling act. So I usually throw up my hands and deem the person, "unmanageable" and pretty much show them the middle finger. Its always been easier for me to wear a frown upon my face, ready an impenetrable attitude and hurl a slew of insults for those unworthy few. Trying to turn around my way of thinking has been impossibly hard but in my hated moments of self-reflection, I think,"Can I really continue to behave this way?" Because who wants to go through life not being able to maintain connections with people who might be able to offer something of importance, no matter how small?

Over a month ago, I ran into a former college roommate of mine on the ferry into lower Manhattan. She sat across from me and her blank eyes briefly met mine. The laughter that wanted to explode from my face wasn't one that could be held so I quickly got up and relieved myself on the upper deck. This girl was infamous around campus for attaching herself to people because she was explainably friendless. People initially welcomed her efforts but she usually became too tiring and a bit stalkerish. When I moved into my new dorm, I told my friends about my roommate and everyone's eyes widened in horror. "Good luck," they told me. Dorm rules were written out and emphasized and I felt confident that we'd get along. She seemed alright a bit talkative but I'm well known for my nasty looks that can silence most people, so I felt that I would be on top of the situation. A few weeks in, I entered my room late one night and she sat in the middle of her bed with a frown. "Could I talk to you?" she asked. It was late and I didn't feel like entertaining any conversations that would turn into a monologue but I gave in. She then proceeded to list the problems that she felt were brewing on my part: I didn't speak to her upon entering our space, I was too quiet, she thought we'd hang out more...etc. It was the weirdest conversation because she felt as if I had this obligation to her as my roommate. Which to me of course wasn't the case, because #1: I didn't choose her as my roommate and #2: I didn't need to do shit because, well hell, I paid to live there (looking back on it, that was way harsh, but I had a real attitude issue then). The night didn't end so well, since I told her to suck it up because not everything was about her and moreover, roommates didn't equal immediate friendship. The situation went downhill from then. If my mother called and it was after 10 p.m. she'd complain and ask that she call earlier instead; she'd wake up early on the mornings I had late classes and bang purposely on her keyboard; she'd touch my television without permission (a definite no no that was outlined in our dorm rules); and then she wouldn't do her half of the chores that were agreed upon. The final straw was when I requested she type a bit softer because it was 7 o'clock in the morning and she yelled for me to shut up. I yanked my covers back and quickly advanced on her with every intention of physical harm when her hands went up in surrender with a meek, "I'm sorry." I left the room in a rage, returned hours later and her side of the room was deserted. I never saw her again.

Whenever I think of that situation, I wondered how I could've dealt with it differently. Its a stretch to believe we would've been friends but acquaintances wouldn't hurt. I'm not the easiest person to co-exist with and believe me, there are moments when I need a break from myself. Its already frustrating that I have issues about maintaining connections with others, but I don't want to be the girl who everyone whispers about because I'm explainably friendless.

I'll have to make due until I can finish building my spaceship and begin construction on my castle located on cloud LoyaltyReliableCourtesy.

...And it Just Keeps Coming

2010-05-18T05:28:00.009-04:00

Its sickening the emotional roller coaster that I've been on the past couple of weeks. I'm beginning to annoy myself and the anger is beginning to swell and spill over onto others. Today marks the seventh week of my internship and I'm just about ready to quit which is my usual reaction to situations that frustrates me, but obviously because I'm trying out this "adult" thing, I can't do that. Besides the menial duties that I've been assigned, I've been receiving increasing passive aggressive comments from co-workers. These comments range from the way I might have completed an assignment, to jokes that a normal person would consider offensive and inappropriate for a work environment. Meanwhile I deal by biting my lip and counting backwards from ten because I'm only the intern. Besides that, I work with individuals who complain incessantly about their jobs. Everyone has their hang-ups about their workplace from time to time but when you have people huddling in corners whispering about how "incompetent" the boss is, that's crossing the line. Take that outside of the workplace and pick up a guide on professional etiquette, OR quit and run your own damn company. I've taken on internships where I've felt belittled and I accepted that the person who handed out the mistreatment obviously didn't leave their personal issues at home and besides it was an academic requirement, so I swallowed my anger and shut up. The difference now is, I'm here by absolute choice and I'm overqualified in terms of my job's description. So in this matter, do I sit back and take the idiocy or leave and move on to something where my efforts are a bit more appreciated in a more professionally suited environment?

Next on my list is the "situation"/ex-boyfriend. For the past six weeks we've been getting along, making an effort to spend as much time with each other when our schedules allow and sneaking in as much life altering sex as possible. The good is good when its good and that's always good. So, why am I needlessly nit-picking at what could be better? Trying to strain some declaration of undying love and friendship out of Him, well until we're both sick of one another. Yes, I'm aware that I was dealing with someone who wasn't ready to get involved in another relationship with the same person. He claimed the need to get Himself on His feet, to reach some of His goals. Where's the fight in that? It's when that person wants to do all the things that lovers do without acknowledging the eventual path the situation will take... someone will desire more and if he/she fails to find it within that person, moving on is the best option. Well He isn't too elated about the idea of me moving on and neither am I. I'm willing to give Him the space He needs to take care of His personal needs (aside from the fact that I took care of my needs while we were together) but not once has He told me that He could see himself with me again as I have told him many times, which is the reason I've decided to wait. The absence of feeling needed by someone who you'd do almost anything for is an immeasurable pain, especially because I've been waiting for Him for more than I'm beginning to feel comfortable with. At this point, any sane person would reason to let it go, waiting in vain isn't worth it and it seems as if our "situation" is all too convenient for Him. And I'd agree, but if anything were that easy then this journal couldn't be justified.

My next issue is my sudden money woes which is angering me because more than anything I hate when people mess with my pockets. I received a letter at the end of last week from my college's bursar office demanding I cough up close to a thousand dollars within six days for an unpaid bill. As I tried to comprehend the letter, tears sprung into my eyes and I felt this invisible vise grip closing around my throat. Trying to keep an impending panic attack at bay I dialed the school's bursar office. According to one of the inept office drones, a grant was yanked because of two summer courses I completed two years ago. Apparently if you're granted financial aid for a summer course, the difference reflects during the following semester. The blunder wasn't discovered until after the bill was paid in full and a year later, the college is seeking unjust payment. I cried foul, hung up without a farewell and started throwing objects across the room.

Job woes, money woes and man woes. A combination which is causing me the kind of sadness that makes me want to curl up, close the curtains and drop out of the world for awhile. Every time I begin to feel a tad sorry for myself, I tell myself that things could be much worse and there are people with 10x more issues. But when they're your problems it feels as if a tiny portion of the world sits a top of your shoulders.

Its 5 a.m. I'm taking a day. They won't miss me.

Have You Smiled Lately?

2010-05-13T00:42:00.007-04:00

As I lay in bed waiting for my best friend called sleep to greet me, the strangest thing occurs: I feel the lower half of my face wrestle with my cheeks and the corners of my mouth helplessly turn upward. Its the most random facial emotion to feel right now because of the long day that I've had paired with the start of a trying week and I haven't had a smile yet. "Tomorrow is a new day," I whisper. A tiny giggle slips from my lips and drowsily I begin to count sheep. The Dream Land awaits...

Loyal+Reliable+Courteous

2010-05-11T23:47:00.005-04:00

loy·al - adjective
1 : unswerving in allegiance: as a: faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is due

re·li·able - adjective
1 : suitable or fit to be relied on : dependable

cour·te·ous - adjective
1 : marked by respect for and consideration of others

I wish I could say that petty things and individuals didn't bother me, but unfortunately I'm still a work in progress which is the very point of this journal's existence. Sunday was Mother's Day and I had a hard time deciding on what to do/get for my mother. I decided to take her to brunch because food's always a winner with everyone. I chose a Caribbean restaurant in Coney Island and my stepfather and I treated her along with my younger sister. After brunch we walked around the amusement park and made it to the edge of the boardwalk before deciding to head to my aunt's house where dinner was being hosted for the extended family. We were smiling and in a joyous mood but the evening suddenly took on a sour taste. I don't like pointing fingers or placing blame because there are other ways to resolve situations especially because tempers flare and personal animosities tend to rear its ugly head resulting in the original problem becoming totally irrelevant and minuscule in comparison. My mother's Mother's Day was ruined because she was blamed over a misunderstanding. A simple accusation caused family members to grumble low blows in corners, throw daggers with their eyes and plain scream at the top of their lungs either at/for and about her. She calmly left the scene got into our car and looked at us with hurt in her eyes, "I pick and choose my battles."

I hate when my mother gets hurt. Whether I'm the cause or someone else. I grew up seeing my mother constantly shitted on by my father, sometimes me when my mood swings settles in and by various family members. We all have the same idea that she doesn't usually defend herself, so the slick comments whether it be to her face or behind her back never gets taken to task. Its as though she's this brick wall and she doesn't hit back. She's no angel but she endures. So when I heard her say she's fine with taking the blame, I become infuriated. And I don't think I've been more hurt by how my family reacted to a situation that could've simply been diffused by communication instead of assumptions based on appearances. Its safe to say that I love my family dearly, but the family + friends factor these days are making me think twice about the way I view people of lately.

Circle of...

2010-05-09T01:55:00.009-04:00

Two days ago, I received a friend request on Facebook accompanied by a message that made my heart drop. It was from an ex-best friend that I hadn't spoken with in close to four years. She was a friend that I met while in my first year of my hell hole college and she was my life line. Come to think of it, I don't remember how we actually ended up hanging out but my first memory of us starts when she confided to me and two other girls (turned frenemies) that she was pregnant. It was within the first three weeks of our fall semester, both of us were seventeen, journalism majors and extremely homesick.

A sucker for a good sob story I became her shoulder, her confidante and we called each other sisters. Christmas break came and went and she never showed up for the start of classes the following semester. I walked around campus depressed and confused as if I lost my left limb. No calls, no letters, nothing to indicate whether she'd come back. Alas February rolled around and I received a cheery call from her as though she hadn't left my world ruined, to inform me she wasn't returning. She decided to stay home, have the baby and dote on her life as a new mom. As selfish as it seemed all I could think of was, "What about me?" To say the least, things changed. Not a life altering change, but a subtle tilt on my axis, which usually left me miserable but I always recovered when she told her witty jokes and laughed the familiar laugh that I loved. We stayed in touch, she had her daughter and she sent me pictures and letters addressed to "Auntie," that made me wince slightly. Two years after her daughter was born and she became pregnant with her second child, she invited me to visit for Thanksgiving. I jumped at the chance because I was drowning in depression and I needed a familiar face, someone with whom I could relate. To make a long story short, she changed. It wasn't a change that one certainly understands comes with time and raising children while still growing up. No, it was a change that made me shirk and long to hightail it back home and deal with my own issues. I was hurt. And I think she was disgusted that I couldn't handle who she was. And last but not least, she stole from me.

From then on, my friendships have had weird highs and lows and I had to adapt a certain outlook when I deal with the few friends I have by placing them in categories. But of lately, I've been in a ditch when I think about the friends who are around and I could certainly say, I have ONE good friend. Honestly, if you only have just one, why do you need any others? There are the friendships that exist mainly because you've known the person for so long but the relationship is a one-way street. For example, you never hear from them unless you call or text and when you speak they tell you of all the things they've been getting into socially and you're thinking, "Whenever I want to get into something, you're one of the first people I call. Why is that?" Or, this one is a biggie, because I have a few girlfriends who are into this: As soon as they get a man, they can't find your number. You know, you guys are both single, they have your number on speed dial every weekend because they're trying to snag someone at the club. But as soon as they do, they don't know how to balance friends and boyfriends. Usually these types are the ones who have no business in a relationship to begin with. Oh, just one more example: The type that is always going through something and only calls you to cry and blubber about their issues and so forth. Where are they when you need a shoulder to lean on? Nowhere to be found. But that's alright, because you care so much you begin to take on their issues but when everything is "hunky dory" on their side, not even an telegram to let you know they're still alive.

I was born alone. I'll die alone too.

P.S.
Sorry for the tone of this post but its been one of those couple of weeks. Ugh.