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Monday, October 11, 2010

The Immortal Rose

Here I sit admired, yet never acquired. Maybe it is my position on the vine or my outward flaws that I have no looking glass to see. Nevertheless I sit here day in and day out. To live forever. I long to be plucked and carried off to be added to a bouquet or arrangement like to ones I see on the pages of the books left by my admirers. I review them as the wind, my kind friend, turns them for me. Yearly I meet the offspring of friends that been plucked away. They are more beautiful than those that have come before them. Even when they desire to stay, complaining that they want to be immortal like me, they are still plucked as so many before them.
I am here from the dew-filled mornings in spring to the icy cold nights of autumn. In winter when I am naked and lifeless I sleep. So as the dew turns to ice I am freed by slumber from the bitter cold and the angry winds that come from the north, nothing like my friend the southern breeze.
I dream of a life like that of a normal rose. Where I can awake in spring and bloom by summer to be picked by the humans and taken to a lovely home. To taste the high of the acid that makes my petals glow, surrounded by noise, laughter and conversations, then to die peacefully there. How comforting to wither gracefully surrounded by friends, as we hold each other close in our final moment. Returning to the earth to become a part of another journey, seed another life with my dust.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

My First Short Story, Before I understood the Concept of Short

I am sitting here waiting on Paul. Paul is my man. He has been my man for almost five years. Sunday will be our five-year anniversary. Five years with the same man. Married to another woman for our entire courtship, mind you.
I am what some would call a mistress, but honey that is nothing more than a glorified name for a backdoor slut. I think that sometimes it was the role I was born to play, “The lusted after whore.”
It started when I was a freshman in high school, Coach Dennison then Mr. Smith. Both married, both evil as hell for turning my young ass completely out. I got caught up with coach because he found me smoking a joint one evening after practice. Coach should not have really known me, didn’t even teach freshman P.E. He was a football coach who taught upperclassmen. He was so fine back then, I actually saw him a few years ago at a reunion, and he was graying around the edges, but still good looking, and still married. Anyway, back to my story. The fine son-of-bitch said that to avoid a call to Gran I had to hang and smoke with him later. So it started with us just smoking and watching movies at his frat brother’s apartment. Then after about a month… You know when I look back on it, I bet he was just trying to build my trust by waiting to make his move, bastard. I remember it like it was yesterday. Walked up in the apartment looking like a chocolate dreamsicle. Nothing out of the ordinary just this time he brought something to drink on.
We had a deal: I brought the weed; he brought the food and entertainment. Sometimes we would get real high and play board games. We got really tight. But this night we got drunk, I had been smoking weed since I was eight, but I had never drank so it made me loose. Honey, before I knew it he had lifted me up on that counter and ate me like Mom’s Apple Pie chile! We started spending many evenings in that position, the strange thing was he never penetrated me. I never even saw his dick. It lasted up until the end of the Fall Semester of my junior year. Coach’s wife believed that he had been cheating on her with a co-worker or someone at the school, and she had decided to schedule a meeting with the principal when she realized that he had been fool enough to fall in love. I remember seeing her in the hall that day. She looked so much like me that she could have been my mother. I remember feeling like if she noticed me she might figure out that it was me, I remember wondering, “what had she done to push him so far away from her?” I remember realizing that my closest friend and I had to stop being friends. Coach took two years off on sabbatical after that. I knew it was to give me time to graduate. I was glad, cause I knew if we ran into each other we would want to hang. I missed him so much that it ached at times. It took me years to get over losing Coach. We finally had a chance to say goodbye at the reunion. Spending those nights with Coach’s face between my legs opened up a can of worms inside me that I still haven’t been able to close. Made me a woman in a lot of ways, more than sexually. We became friends. I learned what men are like and how they think.
Then my senior year I was flunking trig miserably and Mr. Smith gave lessons in fellatio to help me pass. He was a trip. He thought that he was so important and that his family was so perfect. He got on my nerves, but I kept our bi-weekly appointment until I knew grades were in. With a few indiscretions I left high school with two scholarships and a 3.5 GPA.
I decided when I left high school that I wanted a real boyfriend. You know put the past behind me and move on. Since I was still a virgin in the traditional sense of the hymen. I didn’t plan on being easy, but some man would be inside my body making me scream and moan like the women in the movies Coach and I would watch, and soon.
Which leads me to my first, and only unmarried, boyfriend: a football player named Baxter I met at cheerleading practice. I did not mention that I was a cheerleader?
Well, before I began my life as a mistress, I was born to a whore. To this day I have no idea who my father is and neither does my mother. I was a prom night baby, but Mama was a rolling piece of ass. It was just her and Gran by then, My grandfather had died in the military when my mother was 7. My Mom started college the summer after I was born. She got a business degree. She slept her way to top executive in an ad firm, and moved our little family to the suburbs. When the struggle was on she spent every night that she wasn’t away on business or fucking anything that protruded, with Gran and me. We would listen to Lena Horn, Nancy Wilson, then the Supremes and the Temptations. We would dance the routines and sing the songs. I still consider those nights near and dear to my heart. I knew what my mother was doing with her bosses, I would even watch when she brought them back to our home. How do you think I fell so easily into Professor Smith’s lap? When I was fourteen she met a man that actually loved her. He was crazy about her, but he did not want kids. She never even mentioned me to him. They dated for a year and he never came over. When he proposed she cancelled Gran and me like two stolen credit cards. We weren’t even invited to the elaborate wedding that she had the audacity to send pictures of. I only saw her two or three times after that in life. That’s enough about her. I cheered through high school and my first 3 years of college. I liked it and had the body for it. All these secrets have aged me. Sometimes you need to tell it to cleanse your soul. You know what I mean?
Money was never an issue, the whore turned housewife saw to that. Probably worthwhile expenses not to have her bastard baby show up. Sorry I tend to ramble. Now, where was I with my life’s call to whoredom? Oh, I remember. Baxter Hinckley was my first, and may have ended up my only, boyfriend of the not married kind. He was kind of average looking compared to my previous lovers. I knew from experience that fine men cheat and I wanted somebody that I could look at, but wasn’t the star of the show. You know. Well honey, long story short, Mr. Baxter Hinckley was a full-fledged ho-mo-sex-ual. He wasn’t a sissy, but he was gay, nonetheless. Like Will on Will & Grace. If you haven’t seen it then the best way to describe it is: he was just an average guy, a little neat, but normal from a distance, but close up liked men to be close up to his behind. Lord keep us with some mercy! -- I know the Lord and I will have a lot to talk about but in heaven but it’s hard to get through life without calling on him. Another night I will never forget: The night I found out that my boyfriend was gay. Well we had been dating for a whole semester. I figured it was time to put the wheels in motion to getting rid of my virginity. So I put on some sexy Victoria Secret lingerie that I had bought with one of my mother’s guilty money orders.
Just a side bar, but how fucked up are you to send money orders instead of checks? What Mommy did you think that we would find the address and show up on your doorstep? Sorry, I just get so angry with her for dropping us like hot potatoes.
Anyway honey, back to my story. I get there sexy and smelling nice in my raincoat and rain boots, no clothes. It was raining so it wasn’t stupid looking. He lived in an apartment off campus. He said that he had it because he was a junior and his parents were wealthy alumni, so he said. So after a few knocks went unanswered, I used the key that he had mistakenly left with me after I stayed at his house for a package to be delivered one Tuesday. I knew he was there cause I could hear the music. Chile it is a strong sense that rules a woman. I felt like I should not yell to him, and when I peeped into the bedroom, I was changed forever. Baxter was giving the quarterback head and taking it up the ass from the tailback, they were at it so hard that they never looked up. Well honey I slid right back out that door into the rain and walked back to my car dumb-founded. All of those big ass men piled on top of each other naked was just nasty. EWE! I still cringe at the memory. All that night I lay in my dorm room bed remembering every time I had kissed him, every odd behavior that I should have known meant he was a gay boy. Coach had schooled me about “sissies” and “dikes”, and how they came out in college. So I was up on the shit, I just couldn’t believe that I had fell for a fool that decided not to just come on out of the closet.
He called me the next day and I dropped his ass so quick it was crazy. I advised him to either come out of the closet or lock the door. Sick bastard. He could have given me AIDS. Honey it took a year and a half to actually get the cherry popped, and you know it. To prove my point, he was married. My college roommate taught me how to please myself, but it only made me wonder more about the real thing more know what I mean? Every chance available I went home to be with Gran. I love her to death. She loves me too, but she is always in the go: personal trainer, golfing, bridge, and hospital holding babies. She never sits still, until the evenings. So to not hinder her activities, I worked at her brother’s diner during the summer’s I was home from school. I made decent money, but I never needed any.
Mom’s money orders were the only thing that she was faithful to. So I decided to save for a house after graduation. I drove a drop top mustang in high school, and I had received a vintage Vette for high school graduation. A car that I had wanted since I was in diapers. Personally delivered by my mother. I wasn’t as bitter then, so we had dinner and acted like old times, but it grew. The bitterness, it eventually became full grown hate.
The summer after my freshman year I felt like my life was completely retro. I drove a 60’s car, I worked at a 60s looking diner and bell-bottoms were definitely back in. The important part of my experience that summer was George Daily. He would come in the diner every evening about 7. He ordered the same thing every night, Monday through Friday. Catfish and collard greens, unsweetened tea with peach cobbler for desert, every night. He never said a word to anyone. He read the paper, worked on a laptop through desert and left. He tipped 15% gratuity and smiled as he left his perfectly neat table. I figured he was OCD and gay. He was a beautiful man, cinnamon brown with light brown eyes, and hair that lay in a wavy Cesar cut, I never noticed the ring on his finger. You would think that by then that would be the first thing I noticed, some fools have to be completely broken to learn. We would have never spoke until one evening when we ran out of peaches. I figured he would go ballistic. I was such a drama queen about it. I walked over with his dinner and asked if I could sit down. He looked up from his paper, and said yes, with a smile. He looked confused. I was captured by his face, fine had been rubbed in and never washed off. Hon-ey, he was absolutely beautiful! I sat down his plate and slid into the booth seat across from him, took a deep breath. I explained that we had not gotten our peach shipment in time and that we did not have any cobbler for his consumption. He looked at me, and laughed. I was so relieved chile, that I sighed. We both began to laugh and he explained that he had no idea what could have been so serious when I walked over. That night George ate the apple pie and I enjoyed him, we laughed and talked an hour or more past his usual time at the diner. I think the fact that he was actually normal up close was nice. When I started getting ready to go back to school, I had to take a day off during the week. The next day George explained that he had missed me and wanted to know if we could get together at some point outside of the diner. I agreed and gave him my number. He called on the following Monday. He asked me for a date Tuesday after work. I agreed and over dinner he began the you’re so beautiful, your hair feels so nice, blah, blah, blah. I wanted to get rid of my virginity and George was too tall, brown, and handsome no to give it up to. Then his hands and feet were large enough for him to be packing.
That night we checked into a beautiful hotel downtown Chicago. The beds had 500 thread sheets and the comforter was goose-down with a silk duvet. Nice honey I mean real nice. To be an accountant he was a big spender. George purchased some of my most beautiful diamonds. He was one amazing lover and one weird muthafucker all in the same breath. He would take his ring off and do that catholic thing every time we had sex. Then afterwards he would deposit $500.00 into an account that he had setup for me. I made more money sleeping with George than I did in 3 summers working at the diner, but George wouldn’t let me quit, he needed the consistency. He always sent that money for the entire time we were together.
I use the interest from the account to pay the insurance on my storage facility. I love cars and I wanted to store my Vette and get me something new, so I bought the whole damn place. That witch mother of mine was killed a few years ago when her husband’s plane crashed and I was her and apparently his only living relative. I let the servants have the houses. They had taken care of them for generations. I allotted money to pay taxes for them for ten years, but they have to pay the utilities and upkeep. There I go again, getting off track. Where was I? I remember, George.
The sex was more than any woman should have experienced as her first. George was obsessed with me, and what he did to me in the bedroom made me take more than I should have. He made it clear that he would never leave his wife, but being my first drove him to stone lunacy. George was married to his high school sweetheart. They had two kids and a dog and he lived in the city through the week and spent the weekend with his family. I was never allowed to his downtown condo in the event that they wanted to surprise him. I could not miss one of our scheduled sex sessions. He would even leave his family to make it to our rendezvous. If I didn’t make it he would lose it. Call me over and over. He pulled the final straw out of the bag when I came home one week-end from school and found him sitting on the porch with Gran. I was dumbfounded. Yes I had missed our session at the hotel near my university, but I had a lot going on.
It was my junior year and I had decided that I had cheered my last cheer. I was focused on the grades to get into grad school. One thing about being a forbidden lover, you learn to be attentive, listen and counsel without getting too involved. So I decided to get a degree in it and get paid. See some curses can be blessing.
Oh, George. Long story short I had a restraining order issued. He violated it, and after explaining the arrest to his wife, he never called or stopped by again. I didn’t interfere with his personal life and he had no right interfering with mine. It wasn’t like our courtship was legitimate to begin with.
Just when you think that you insanity has come to an end. It starts all over again. Same fool different story brings us to Paul. I met Paul in grad school. He is a professor of Freudian theories. Even though things with George went really bad, he kept my mind occupied in my bed at night. So Paul had to be clever and he was. He offered me a trip to Europe. We toured Great Britain and Paris. I was floored. We made love for the first time in a field in London. Yes honey Mr. Paul Martin wooed me with fabulous trips and exotic restaurants. We did what the people on TV did, and I loved every minute of it. Paul treated me like the wife and the wife like the other woman. He was key in me getting my doctorate, but he is also the reason why I began teaching instead of opening up a practice.
I have the money, and I own a New York brownstone. I can open my practice in the bottom and live up top. Gran has gotten a little slower and I would love to take care of her. See the ugliest thing about Mr. Martin is that he is a chronic gambler, on everything in life. He never lets a loss keep him down. Everybody and every situation are a roll of the dice and he is immune to the consequences. His wife bankrolls all of our indulgences, and all of his bad bets, while she drinks herself into an early grave because Paul doesn’t want children. The wife comes from old money, and she thought that marrying the refined, well dressed, beautiful Italian (she didn’t know about the black) Paul Martin would lead to the life she had always wanted. Instead it lead her to the bed of any man that told her what she wanted Paul to say and hatred of the very man she had worshipped. According to her, she got pregnant before they had actually said the, I dos so he made her have an abortion. (She told me this one night when she found us making love at a dock in Miami on their yacht.) She had a condition that neither she nor the clinic was aware of and she almost died. After that she couldn’t have children. Paul could not have been happier. Her parents were her only refuge and when they died, she did too in every way but physical. People are so fucked up.
I myself have been pregnant before because Paul refuses to use condoms. He says that if I cheat he will know it and kill me where I stand. Sigh. At first I loved Paul and maybe some of me still does, but there is a part of me that knows better. I can’t lie to myself about him leaving her. He would just go through my money like he has run through hers. He doesn’t even know about my wealth. I kept that secret. He thinks that without him I have nothing, and he is beginning to treat me like I can’t go anywhere. Well, honey. I am smarter than I look. I am pregnant, 4 weeks to be exact. When I found out I knew I was leaving Paul. He had me living in a cottage on the grounds of the University we teach at. Easy access. Ass and work are the only things Paul loves more than gambling. My best and only friend, Sharla, has been helping me. Remember the friend that taught me self-pleasure, well we roomed all four years of college, and have remained friends all these years. She kept watch over the renovations to the brownstone and secured me a new car in her name that I paid cash for. I drive one of those Mercedes Jeeps. It was Paul’s idea. He said that my CLK was too small. He thought I sold it, but it went to storage. So for my new bundle of joy, I have purchased a Porsche Sports Utility. Cayenne I think it’s called. I haven’t even seen it in person. I have not made one trip to New York. I have done everything by computer or U.S. Mail. I use public library computers and make calls from a pre-paid cell that I don’t even know the number to. I actually took a vacation with out Paul to Seattle. He ended up meeting me in California. I did it to give me a running head start.
Do you know this is the third time I have been pregnant? The last two times Paul knew from having sex with me and had a car carry me to the abortion clinic the next day. I can’t seem to find a man that’s not married, but this baby will be all mine. Paul is gorgeous to the eyes and so is everyone in his family, so I know this baby and all of the other ones too will have or had, great genes. As Betty Wright says, “Honey tonight is the night.” I am leaving Paul. I agreed to meet him tonight because it is our fifth anniversary and we never made it to Italy. So here I am in Italy waiting on the man I have waited around on for five years. Well, I have chatted you up pretty good and he hasn’t even called my cell. What do you know it was off? Well, to bad. I am off to fuck the brains out of a beautiful Italian stripper. Change hotels and rest because starting over is only the beginning. Trying to break the curse may take more than I currently have in me. My child will be better than me and never live like I have if I can help it. If we meet again I’ll tell you how it goes. Wish me luck.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The other Woman: a short-short- What do you think she should do next

Hi I am Cherie, Can I get you anything before we began? She asked.
I stared at her she had to be about 5’6 but she stood at least 5’11 over my 5’4 frame thanks to stiletto hills. I had expected her hair to flow down her back, similar to mine. Instead she wore a short page boy cut. Her make-up looked professionally done, yet too much for her skinny jeans and white tee-shirt that revealed a modelesque figure. She had curves and hips yet she could not have been more than a size 4. Her smile revealed perfect white teeth, obviously braced crowned and bleached. I would know, in a former life I was a dental hygienist.
“No, I am fine. Thank you.” I responded stiffly. I could feel the emotion growing in my heart and mind. My body was quivering. She looked alarmed because a woman my age should not be this nervous about the job I was pretending to interview for. Cherie is a broadcast journalist, turned movie star purely by accident. I am here today to interview as her new publicist. I can’t even remember what the resume says that she is sitting across from me looking over. I had hoped we would meet at her home instead she chose an hotel suite. I am pondering my response to her first question. Should I come out with it or pretend to want to know her more. My name proceeds me in this town and she knows who I am, and what I can do. I wonder if she knows more.
“You look ill, darling. We can reschedule if you’re not at your best, because I need someone at their best to represent me. If you have done your homework then you know I got this role as a humbug and the movie has done so well that I am able to write my own ticket. I need someone who knows how to plan my career. Can you extend my fifteen minutes? Do you see movie star in me? That is all I really want to know?” she said with a delicate smile.
I swallowed hard. "If you promise to stop fucking my husband I can see to it that we not only extend the fifteen minutes but make it a lifetime of success." I stated matter-of-factly, and smiled. Truth is she has the potential she just needs polishing and pushing. Although, I could never take her as a client, I think she can make it.
"What? Brock is married to a literary agent and we are in love. She is old and sick and..."
“I am not just a literary agent and do I look old or sick? I know Jock promised to leave me. That is why I am here. His name is Jock not Brock he tells people that shit so they won’t tie him to me. Check your latest red carpet line-up it’s him with a different hair color. My husband is a ladies man and it appears that he may have made the very severe mistake of falling in love with you. I have worked too hard to give him half of any of my empire, and one day you could understand what I mean. Can you imagine working this hard and having to share it with someone that was only along for the ride?"
She sat there looking at me like she had seen a ghost. She sat back and tried to pretend to have a real brain. I continued.
"He thinks that you are in love as well and the truth is, I don’t care either way. We have problems but eventually you and he will too. So before he realizes the grass is never greener I want this to end and now. You are a child with meager talent and a whole hell of a lot of luck that will take you far here, but you won’t go with my husband! Are we clear?” I forced the thoughts of him telling me he didn’t love me anymore out of my head.
Look I am sorry you came down here to embarrass yourself, but you need to leave. She said calmly, more like a real woman than a bimbo.

Friday, June 25, 2010

The innate ability provided to the female species of human is to nurture. We grow things: people, plants, animals, businesses, families, problems, and habits. This makes us the caretakers of the universe. Unfortunately, we have been deceived by the evil in the world into believing that we can not take care of each other as women past puberty. Though this is not true for all women, many of us have girlfriends. Some of us have purchased the lie and developed lifestyle that limits our female contact to family and non-interpersonal relationships.
As a woman we are constantly pulled in different directions by the demands associated with our life. We lend pieces of ourselves to everything that needs us and feel guilty when we don’t. As a teenager I had no idea the demands placed on a woman with a giving spirit. I saw my grandmother be used up by everyone with a need and I was sure that she was just weak, and I vowed to never be that way. I loathed tears because they further conveyed an inward weakness. I told myself that no one would ever make a fool of me or take my last. I thought that if I didn’t give any part of my self I would be okay. As I woman, I understand that kind of fear leaves you lonely and can lead to an emotional break down and feeling like you don’t have anything left. We all need somebody!
On the other side of the foolishness of my youth I realize that the most important thing is to have a balance. To save some of you for yourself!!! I have heard, since I was twelve, the earth be compared to a mother; a woman, a right that is divinely ours and abundantly glorious. The world requires so much of us because as the Bible declares much has been given us. To look at a woman in her full glory is a beautiful thing to behold. Shapely, beautiful, intelligent, resourceful, wise, patient, perfect listeners, a loud voice, a silent prayer; and that barely scratches her surface. Woman, God’s most creative thing.
So how do you keep some of your gloriousness for you? I was hoping you would ask. Mind you this is just one black woman’s opinion but believe me every rule has more life lessons attached than I can list here. Print this out and paste it to your bathroom mirror. Write each rule in your journal and replace my example with one of your own, and make a copy to put on your desk. Repetition is the key to creating a habit! Make your efforts towards being a peaceful person in the earth a habit. Peace is better than happiness but that’s another topic.
Rule #1: Become comfortable saying no to anyone that can or will ask for anything. As an individual you have an agenda. You have a list of tasks required to get the things that you have got to do for your life, period. No matter how you organize or un-organize it, you’re getting the living done. Everything you do for other people is extra. That goes from having dinner with someone you just met to picking up groceries for your mom. People will always ask you to do something, and if you think for a moment about what you’re asked to do by other people you will realize the bigger and the more inconvenient the task are associated with the more you love and respect the person. Thus, creating, in your mind at least, a rationalization of why you put yourself through it. The word “NO” and the action of “Nothing” is not a sin, injustice, or evil. The way to determine if the question deserves the “no” answer ask yourself a few questions. Do I have something else to do that this will interfere with? If I do this is it crippling the person receiving from being stronger and more responsible? If I don’t, will what I decide to do instead provide a greater benefit to my life? If the answer to any of these three I yes, then tell them no!!!
Never give anyone more of yourself than you have to let go of. Between work, family, friends and church you can find yourself burned out to the point that all you can do at home is sleep or watch the television to see other people live while you feel that you barely exist. I had to pick up a pen and make a schedule for my days first, then my weeks. I added time for myself and all the things that I wanted to get done for home, work and family. Then I penciled the extra in where I was free and okay with spending the time. When you say I have to check my book, mean it! LOL
Spend enough time alone to like yourself and your own company. I have to give this credit to my aunt who taught me this by example. I asked her once what have you been doing sitting here all day? She responded spending time with me. Then she added I like me and my own company. I realized that sometimes we are so busy with other people that we forget to take the time necessary to enjoy our own company. It is a wonderful thing to be able to sit still and appreciate you own thoughts. To be warmed by the sunshine in your own smile. It can be a liberating experience. There are days when I sit on my couch and look out the window and think of all the possibilities for the outside world. Having suffered from depression it was awesome to come to that place and feel free and not held in that position by the weight of life but more by the relaxation from the day.
Spend time in silence, praying, meditating and releasing everything that weighs you. At one point in my life I had hours to do this. I did not have a child and I was in college so my life was mine. Then I came home and without nine months of preparation became a full time parent and a basketball mom. I had a real hard time adjusting. I worked so hard to keep order I was burning myself out. Then I relaxed too much and felt like I was failing, but the reality was that I had lost myself. I was so busy doing other things that I failed to take the time I needed for myself and I was empty of positivity and full of shhhhh.
Since my laptop lost the other four I had typed I will end here. Please hit me up if you like dislike, agree or disagree. I am open to your opinion. That way I know somebody is out there…..

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Enough Already!!!

The Bible says that when you go to do good is evil is always present!!! This is so true that I can barely stand it. I started this blog casually, expecting nothing. Well, I guess a lot of women need to save something for themselves and my ability to do so is being pushed to the limits! So I say to every woman that is being pulled down by life GET UP!!!

If you are overwhelmed with debt file bankruptcy! If your man wont act right, find another one! If your child wants to defy you and they are over twelve, offer to help them find a place to stay! If your mother is sick and you are not the only child, step down and give someone else the chance to step up! If your job sucks, start sending our resumes and embellish to play to your strengths as I have been recently told! If you have friends that take more than they give tell them to get to stepping! Fight back like your life depends on it!!!! Because it does!

Heart attacks, strokes, physical ailments, childbirth defects, all come from women being distracted from themselves and focusing on the wrong thing! For every person it is necessary to evaluate your life and determine what makes you happy! What deserves your attention and what you have to offer the world. Then against everything you know Protect your time. Preserve you mind. And Fight the generational curse of tradition and what's expected.

I cant tell what I don't know. I have experienced all of the above situations and then some recently and I decided to make the harder decision the fifth time around. See, I have observed life to be based on a cycle, or more accurately changing seasons in your psyche. If you are familiar with astronomy then you know how the seasons, or moons can affect the mood and atmosphere of people born under a certain sign. Well, I also believe that if you are a Christian there are certain choices that God wants you to make and until you make the one that will put you on his chosen path for your success then you will keep being faced with similar circumstances but different stories of how and when you got there.

I have always been a fan of doing what's right according to what other people defined as far and kind. Then it hit me, I am living with the consequences not them. So I have committed to do everything differently than I always have. I am starting over and I am going to live by the Bitch Rules that I am preparing to share with you more than I ever have before. Sometimes you have not only change the rules to the game but make your own definition of VICTORY!

Wednesday, March 17, 2010


Well Hello fellow bloggers and friends I begged to check this out! For years I have had a conviction to share with women all of my amazing life lessons and personal revelations. Well, recently I have realized that to destroy the activity of nothing you have to do something that creates activity towards your goals. Those that follow Christianity refer to it as sowing a seed. So here is my newest breakthrough.
I have created this Blog for women with the gift/curse of help and all the people that love them. Women that are prone to helping people and fixing things no matter what cost them! Men can learn a lot here too about emotion and what women feel. Personally I have survived depression so deep it almost claimed my life and years of being victimized by my own convictions and the judgement of othters. So I want to share with you ways to find some happiness, a lot of peace, and strength to live out your goals and dreams. Sisters we have got to do this thing for ourselves!!!
Growing up I was always observant and I developed a fear that women were weak and prone to insanity. I wanted to be a boy so I wouldn't grow up to be like that. Fortunately for me I became a woman and began to understood that a breakdown is a rite of passage. It is an opportunity to shed all of the layers that people cover who you really are as a woman with. The only way for us to survive is if we find a way to take control of our emotions. Now, as with everything we must find balance but there are 10 Simple Rules to Mental and Emotional Stability and that is what this blog is about. I call them The Bitch Rules, primarily because when you love and protect yourself that is what people will call you! LOL
So I have become comfortable with the description because the people that matter and make my life full do not see me that way. If they do its because they are older and don't understand why I refuse to sacrifice my sanity for the sake of the crowd. That family curse of pride and hypocrisy can make your life hard to live, but we have a remedy for that. Read with me and we will be better women, better contributors to the Universe, better mothers, friends, co-workers, daughters, and lovers.

Live Like You Only Get Once ChaNce