Postponed

This week’s blog has been postponed to pay respect to Maya Angelou. 

 

New link will resume within 48 hours. Thank you for following. 

Don't Act Like Its A Bad Thing: #AMuseDInmate#20134102

“So don't act like it's a bad thing to fall in love with me

'Cause you might look around and find your dreams come true, with me

Spent all your time and your money just to find out that my love was free

So don't act like it's a bad thing to fall in love with me, me

It's not a bad thing to fall in love with me, me”   ~Justin Timberlake

It was December 11, 2013.  The ship had holes in it already, but I was plugging away on the mental seas, attempting still to let trust be trust and build something slowly with someone I had low key fallen for.  I knew when I was falling in love with him and that I should stop.  But I didn't. That was back in the summer.  Here we were in the official winter season and the snowstorm would soon dump a blizzard on everything I thought I was unsurely sure of.

But on this night,

...of December 11^th, I was in bliss.  I was dressed comfortably and cute, had enough gas in my truck to drive Eastward if welcomed and on the passenger seat sat an untouched container with a Hennessy Cake from TGI Friday’s in it.  The Cream Cheese Icing sat on top of it. I brought it with me because I thought it was share worthy. I had purchased it the night before while out with my girlfriends. On this night, I had planned to hopefully share it with someone I thought greatly of, despite his wishy-washy attitude.

In this moment, I stood in front of one of my favorite artists: Justin Timberlake.  I had been anticipating this concert since buying the ticket back in February or something like that.  Now here I was, having a GREAT time, by myself! I hadn’t heard too much off of the second release of 20/20 because I was so addicted to the first version of it and had played it nearly every day.  The CD was the soundtrack of this ‘thing’ I was in with this person, who we will refer to MuseWeasel, M.W. for short.  The CD was released around the inception of ‘us’ and every song was a reference to him or us in some capacity, in my head.  In this moment, Justin was on the movable stage and relatively close to where I was standing when he began to sing a song from the second part of 20/20; a song I had only heard a handful of times, but I did love it a lot. I only knew the chorus to it and every time he made it to that part, I would sing along with him as if I wrote the lyrics myself. To say they resonated with me would be an understatement. On this night in particular, as he sang that chorus, I FELT it in my spirit. Before I knew it, my face had tears streaming down them. 

I’m such an emotional brat.

I wasn’t sad. I was just lost in the live concert and the song and more than both, I was lost in the lyrics. Because in my mind, there was NOTHING wrong with falling in love with me. I pretended that the song was being serenaded to MW.  I wanted him to not be afraid to love me, to let himself go with me and I was convinced that all he needed was to see that I was welcoming him unconditionally and would love even the hugest flaw in him that broke the fastest law and see nothing but Light in it. This song right here, was perfectly stating what I was thinking and had been thinking long before I arrived at Bankers Fieldhouse. Those tears trickled down my face and I couldn’t stop myself: I pulled out my cell and text him. I told him that I was at the concert and it would probably be ending soon because Justin had been performing for a LONG time by this point. I informed him that I had a delightful piece of cake that I was sure he would enjoy and that after the concert was over, it would be nice to come see him, share this cake and end our night together.  I wanted to lay with him on this night.  Wanted to be all in his personal space. I mean, who could actually have someone in their life and go to a Justin Timberlake concert by themselves and not want to leave and immediately go be with ‘that person’. 

He didn’t immediately respond and I was ok with that because I was enjoying the concert still. I put the phone in my back pants pocket and kept listening to the song with these hearts in my eyes. I figured I would hear back from him soon. 

The concert ended.

I walked the short journey back to my truck in the windy cold. My cake still sat waiting on me when I got in the truck. I spent the next 15 minutes or so stuck in the downtown traffic not moving. Finally, I was on my way……….home. I never received a response. It wasn't until the next day sometime that I heard from him, on facebook.  He inboxed me and honestly, I don’t remember what it said. He made a reference to the cake, which of course meant he saw the text and I’m sure he saw it when it arrived, but hey …

* shrug*

Not even sure if he apologized or made up a reasonable excuse for not responding to me. if he did, it probably went a little something like “I was knocked out”.  That was typically always the excuse.  The night before, when I got home after the concert, it’s not a stretch to say my feelings were hurt, but I climbed in the bed and went to sleep peacefully because no matter what happened, Justin Timberlake had shown his 

ASS!!! So I was still relatively happy. 

We were a couple of weeks before Christmas…and 16 days, to be exact, from the moment I would see that him, his daughter, his new ‘BAE’ and her children had gone out on a family date at the State Museum.  It was an interesting after-Christmas gift. It was December 27^th. They both posted the same pictures, him on FB and her on IG. How I knew what she was posting on IG will come in a later blog.

Upon seeing this, I immediately called him, shaking internally, tears streaming and pretty well pissed off. We hadn't lacked conversation between this day and the concert. I had requested his presence a couple or few or maybe a handful of times (I know….don’t get me started on ME!!!).  I think every request was denied, but not with honesty or even a straight faced NO.  All with bullshit. Ignores. Lies….upon LIES. 

Here’s my thinking: People date or kick it or ‘talk’ to each other for a period of time before they start hanging out with their CHILDREN.  That’s a HUGE step, at least in my eyes, but then I don’t have kids, so maybe the rules are different. Maybe this is simply the world according to the way I see it. But that’s what I thought. Which is why when he kissed me, aka, slobbed me down respectfully, in front of his son one day after stopping by, I thought myself to be someone ‘special.’  SOME things are unspoken, but I learned from this ‘thing’ with him that EVERY THING in a relationship, a talkingship or even friends with benefits-ship needs to be SPOKEN.  Because otherwise, both parties might have complete different versions of the truth; neither necessarily being wrong….until the lying starts.

When I talked to him and confronted him with what I saw, of course, his most pressing concern was how I found her page. He denied what my eyes told me. He was actually quite ANGRY about what I knew.  Why???

Because I had violated his ‘BAE’s’ privacy…..even though her stuff was PUBLIC.  It was just the fact that I had located this information that was burning him up. He couldn't give me the truth as to what was going on because he had to deal with the fact that he was pissed off about his BAE’s having her privilege to post their budding  relationship violated.

 LOL.

It was also very bad timing. A family member of his had been hurt severely bad the same night I confronted him over the phone. I almost didn’t say anything because of it, but I was frustrated and tired of giving everyone else the benefit of ‘life happening’ and then ultimately never having the conversations or the questions answered that needed happen or be answered. Once we got off the phone, him still being LIVID and me being tearfully confused (although I felt like I was forcing my tears out), I felt bad that I had brought this up while he was on his way to the hospital.

So I kicked myself mentally.

I wouldn’t be surprised if when he hung up from talking to me, he called his girl.  It would make the most sense….just to make sure I hadn’t gotten to her. I’m sure that’s what happened. OR …..maybe he tended to his family business, but I’m sure he checked on his BAE soon enough and without asking any questions, allowed her to reveal whether or not she had been contacted by me. She hadn’t. Can’t say I didn’t want to...

I DID.

I MOST CERTAINLY DID.

Not even on an attitude, but on some ‘I think we both being played’ shit, but I've learned that women typically don’t give a shit about that. So I said nothing and tried to deal with my reality as best as I could.

He continued to deny what I saw on December 27^th.  Our contact became stagnant in the days to come.

Then on New Year’s Day, I looked at her page and everything went HAYWIRE from there.

Her post: A picture of some filler, dyed flowers sitting on his desk at work with a caption of “thanks for the New Year’s Flowers Bae” …..and tagged his name. I had ironically given him a hundred dollars that same morning. 

These flowers would go on to be the source of my meme-making and all kinds of childish tom foolery that was bred out of pure HURT. Of course I have been cheated or lied to and even disrespected before, but something about this time was completely different. Maybe Latifah has had it up to here, maybe it was just bad timing or maybe it was the so much of ME I had given him and he WILLINGLY accepted all while holding his best kept secret in his back pocket. Maybe it was the fact that him and his continuous lying had been playing the ring around the truth game for MONTHS without me knowing. I know this much because after these flowers made their public debut, I went back to the original source I had owned since November....yes, I knew this day was coming since November...just after his birthday...just after I put food in his cabinet and refrigerator for him and his son, just after I showed my ass at Walmart for his birthday present and after him leaving me hanging on his birthday, which I had requested to spend time with him weeks prior (do women have to request?? Come on kennie)....just after all this, I saw he had been having some 'different' type of public communications with a certain twitter follower.  So after the same person posted these flowers, I went to contweets.com, a site that I honestly do not even know how I found as I had never heard of it before this day, and was able to pull up ALL the conversation's they had over twitter. Then I realized I had BEEN being played.....for most of these past nine months. ....

Which was pointless in my opinion....I had given him chance to end our communications many times (which i should have just done myself), i had opened the door for TRUTH extremely wide and i had been VERY open and honest with him about what i thought and how i felt, so if for no other reason, it would prompt him to be just as honest with me, even if it was something i didn't want to hear. I liked him, genuinely, as a person. I could have dealt with and respected us not working, but me being lied to while i'm doing the most to and for you is a whole entire 'nother subject to tackle. 

It was that moment, New Years Day 2014, that the whole bottom fell out of my sanity. For the next nearly two months, I was on the live wire. The following are some of the facebook posts from New Years Day:

* "i had to reach back into my purse
fumble around my keys 
tampons and receipts cause surely my crown must be in here somewhere cause it ain't
i'm about to ninety nine cent Spokeo a heaux and act real ignorant just for and fucking tale
fuck cyber derailment, lets get all the way live
even if its in the middle of the street
i got something for you to retweet
i got a picture for you to IG bitch
but -
i'm too old for that
i reach in the back of the torn liner
get scratched up by the eyeliner tip
pull my jewels out and light a match stick 
there was a glitch in the system
leave the clowns at the circus and get back on the throne like a real Q
That's what queens do
this is the first time my pen has moved in months
make that the keys
shit just got real........" ~2014

* i'm gonna make it

*I'm gonna mek it thru and beyond these feelings

*You can't put people on blast because its childish #Notetoself

* Every woman gets a courtesy Angela Bassett moment. And if not every woman, definitely this one. All done now. * shrug*  #Exhale #JudgeMe

*Tomorrow will be better.

It had been nine months, roughly five hundred dollars and a shitload of emotions, of pure nothingness. I had been sidelined without my knowledge (my instinct knew). I had publicly humiliated, embarrassed and was on level 50 with my anger decibels. The situation was thick and ugly and with each passing day and the combination of his lies ( he wouldn't even admit he bought the flowers….said it was a misunderstanding) and my hurt, I was about 5 minutes from setting his car on fire.

I had NEVER in life, in nearly 35 years, experienced the desire to bring PAIN, HURT or DISCOMFORT to a dude that hurt me…..until now.

It was 9:11am, New Years Day (thanks fb) that my show “Only the Brave” was born.  But the shattered ego, the broken heart and the disrespect and hurt almost killed me. Seriously. It would have been better if he didn't act like it was such a bad thing to love me.  Ironically, he would go on to tell me “I do love you. Our loves may not have matched up the same, but I do love you”. 

Such a beautiful lie.

FB Post: *I'm about to have an amazing first show of the year. That's all. Thank you for that.

"Forgive my childishness of last night. But really, shit happens and sometimes, even queens have to sit the crown aside and play possum.. No worries. I put it back on. "

That day, I decided to dedicate my entire upcoming show to the Tom Foolery of the last nine months. In hopes that it would keep me from having this nigga's brake lines cut. I'm just being honest......

TBC..........................

~jY

#AmusedBy #UsedBy #MuseWeasel #AMuseDNumber #20134102

Monday Mourning: Pre Posting #MuseDWeasel

I decided that when I have random freewrites inspired by any of the  'characters' from this blog, I would post them on Mondays as the #MondayMourning  blog !!!!

So first up, a freewrite inspired by the Muse himself, #MrWeasel.

it ain't homegrown anymore

gardens abandoned like Chernobyl

radioactive heartbeats broken to smithereens

abandon mission

hopes and wishes dashed in a secret vision that can't be cashed in for golden i love you tokens

if he don't want you

he won't have you

cornstalks of pretending will flourish

giving is for the taking

it ain't homegrown anymore

its seeded with weed pollen

we sneezing off of each other

achooo

i chew

you apart and spit you back to the ocean i found you shipwrecked against

...these are ghosts in our bed

this is death giving me head,

i cum for no reason off words you never said

i love you's can't be planted and watered

but lies can.

this is reggie ....regular....

just shy of bunk

skunk smoke

choke toke

choke hold

nothing like homegrown,

this is

a disaster in creation

this is the beginning of emotional evacuation.

Timeout

I loved you from the moment i intercepted our paths,

see we were never supposed to share a space tighter than the 50 degree angle we often stood in....

i was never supposed to remember you

you were always a forgetful stain in history's pre-making,

we never dated

because we were never supposed to be dating,

you never waited,

because i was never supposed to be waiting,

now i'm fledgling against my own will power because what else is left to do but go back to the day before i collected your story as a novel worth checking out....

you are not the blame of my pain but rather the gain of one hundred flames set across the tips of my eyelashes,

when i see visual reminders of you,

my pupils become fire starters

my memories are haunting taunters of revenge

my dreams become the crypt keeper of angered time clocks that have stopped on the broken second hand's whisper:

"its noon oclock"

Drop the leftovers in the stockpot and let it burn

turn the stove up and cook the cracks out

chop the residue until nothing is left but a fine powdery substance to be blown away

turn the fan on

absorb the remnants of leftovers

take the lesson and bite down until I feel the resilience within put it's lighters up,

i loved you

from the moment prior to the day I would look at you

and see your smile differently

if only I could have predicted myself to drown in your dimples while you closed your cheeks

til your smile disappeared....

and so did i ....

maybe i could have saved myself

....and my dopamine levels

from the life of that death ride.

#AmusedBy #DWeasel #Muse#20134102 

Mr. Lucky #Slevin : The Backseat of His Jeep.

I was about 21 years old.  I was living on Kessler Blvd, a pretty quiet and good neighborhood on the Westside of Indianapolis.  It was an area of teenagers and older, retired adults. My aunt lived there and after being placed in a nursing home and ultimately passing away, I was gifted the opportunity to move into her  modest two bedroom home with the massive kitchen, enclosed back porch that overlooked a decently sized and fenced in backyard.  I had a driveway, a garage, a big living room, separate dining room, a basement with a pool table and a fireplace; I was essentially a spoiled brat.  I brought Mr. Slevin*** with me.  I loved him. I had loved him since we were young teenagers.  We had been in a ‘relationship’ for about a year and a half by the time I moved on Kessler Blvd.

At the time, I couldn't really ask for more. I was in love, I lived in a beautiful house in a great neighborhood and I had money: I was a stripper at the Sunset Strip and was pulling in pretty great amounts of money.  Slevin approved.  We had a strange relationship. We had a long conversation about me stripping prior to me starting.  My first night at the club, him and some of his friends came to ‘support me’.  I remember when he was in there, I wanted to spend the night sitting on his lap in my outfit, flaunting myself past his friends just to show them how much of THE MAN Slevin was. I wanted to make him proud on stage. I wanted his love, his affection and his attention.  Somehow, I thought all of this made sense.  And in a weird sense, it did, given the nature of our relationship.  We had met when I was 12 and he was 14 years old, but from the first time he walked up to me and kissed me until the first time I saw him again after a couple of years when I was 19, I knew I loved him. We had a back and forth of teenaged sex, rumors and hurt feelings. I was the one with the hurt feelings and he was the one that kept the rumor mill brewing, but so as not to victimize myself, I’ll leave all that off. Let’s just say, things were always hectic between us but for some reason, I LOVED him.  I genuinely did. He was my first in so many ways. He introduced me to life in ways that intrigued me, confused me and sometimes got me in trouble, but I always came back for more. I was the prodigal friend who was a girl but not really a ‘friend.’  I did think he was mine tho.  So the truth is, it was no surprise that after all the childish back and forth, upon finally getting in a relationship with each other, I was a stripper and he was a hood dude, so to speak. 

I didn't have a car at the time.  I was making good money, but I loved to shop.  I loved to eat. I loved to enjoy things, so I had foregone buying a car and hoped that my love would help me find out how to buy a car and put some money down on one.  That hadn't happened as of this particular summer night, but it didn't matter much because I lived five minutes from work. Catching a ride or a cab if I was running late wasn't really that much of an issue.  One night, after work, I needed a ride home. My pride has always been a bit of a dick, and for some reason, on this night, I didn't want to ask anyone for a ride. So I didn't.  He didn't ‘work’ and was always home before me; I worked the night shift aka the late shift. I went in at 9 pm and got off at 3 in the morning.  I called him prior to getting off of work and requested the presence of him picking me up. If memory serves me right, he only said yes after suggesting I find a ride with someone at the club or catch a cab. Mind you, we lived essentially around the corner.  Finally, he told me he would be there.

He came.  He was a little late and a lot of the girls had already left, but shortly after they unlocked the doors and let the cattle loose, I saw his blue Suburban pull up out front.  I grabbed my bags, said my goodbyes and went outside to the truck.  As I walked out the door, I saw his friend sitting in the passenger side of the truck.  I walked towards the truck and expected his friend to jump out at the last minute.  We knew each other. All three of us had known each other for years.

His friend never moved.

I walked up to the truck, and slowly walked past the passenger door in quiet confusion and got in the back. He put the truck in drive and we left the parking lot.  The conversation in the front seat kept on rolling like I wasn't there.  I sat in the back of the truck, with two men riding dick-shotgun in the front and no one thought anything; except me. The entire ride home felt like it lasted for months and I kept staring and glaring holes into both of them from behind in hopes that someone would step up and put themselves in charge of being apologetic for their blatant rudeness.  No one did.  In fact, I was dropped off at home and Mr. Slevin and his friend kept going.  I got in the truck in the backseat and got out the truck from the backseat.

I had a hard time believing the tears falling down my face as I walked in the house. I could not believe that I had just rode home in the backseat of my man’s truck. The man whom I was sleeping with, daily, the man who I had loved since before I knew I loved him; the one I was giving my body and my heart to, had just allowed me to climb into the backseat of his truck after barely being willing to come pick me up from work.  And more than that, I didn't know why I allowed that to happen.  But I think I was so stunned that it did, that I kept the scene moving just to see how it would play out.

Looking back on that day, when I was 21 years old, it’s easy to see that my worth was something that was always in question by me. I was mentally challenged and unable to see or notice or feel like I was deserving of the ACTIONS my mind was telling should be taking place. I knew a woman was never supposed to ride in the backseat of her man’s car. I knew that his friend, who also knew me (not that, THAT should even matter), should have gotten out of the front seat when I came out the door. I KNEW that riding home in the back was wrong.  I knew the fact that no one turning around or rear viewing a glimpse of my stifled crying meant that I was everything I didn't want to be: a non factor. But I didn't say anything.

 I did just as I had always done: stored my feelings away and told myself

 ‘one day, there will be a reason to bring up how wrong this is, but not now”. 

Well. …later in life, I went on to move across the street from him, his wife and their family. Oh joy, the irony  And our relationship continued the entire time, as we attempted to keep our FRIENDSHIP alive but struggled to get beyond the many things that took place in our relationship, some of which I may share. After that plus two failed relationships and a one TOTAL & complete regret later, the clock has finally gone off. Yes, that is how long I have allowed the silencer to remain at my temple. But after my last stint in the Fools Gold Mine, I decided that silence is no longer the virtue I wish to possess. Someone needs to hear SOME of these stories. Maybe my life can be prevention for another woman. Maybe it can be healing for me. Or maybe me circling my past and searching for reasons why I would allow a man to come into my life, take my money, my body, my time, my emotions and heart and then so deliberately and nonchalantly start a full bodied relationship with another woman that leaked online, publicly humiliating and embarrassing me, more to myself than anyone else, will allow me to heal properly and NEVER allow myself on Love’s roller-coaster again.  Maybe that was even a run-on sentence. 

I started with this particular story because the backseat is where I have more often than not, found myself sitting in my relationships. Even the last 'courtship' (for COMPLETE lack of better word or denial) saw me sitting in the back of the nword's car, beneath his DJ equipment. #HeavyLoad 

The first day I sat in the backseat of my man's car was the first day of the rest of my dignity being disrespected at all costs. 

Maybe THIS blog….will save a shitload of us from being shitted on....and from opening the door to the backseat. Because truth is, once you are back there in sitting position, all you can do is watch it all play out. 

Its official. Welcome to A.M(use.D.)

~jY

#AmusedBy #Slevin*** #InmateNumber19912009

***names slightly altered to protect the dick-o-cent