Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Monday, April 20, 2015
1000 Words at the AMuseMENtPaRk
Here's a sense of 'comfort' (total lacking better word).
After going through both of my blogs and hitting the master delete button on ANY/ALL pictures I posted, leaving my blog with a series of X's and blank spaces where pictures used to live, I discovered the power of online storage.
Who knew that google was secretly, somewhat saving all the pictures I posted into Picassa, as well as Google Plus (which isn't the greatest because pictures that weren't necessary 'public' so to speak, were available for trolls on googleplus...nothing too bad, but nothing authorized either)....
I tend to not believe this is ALL the pictures I've posted from both of these blogs, however, there are lots left. So this post is an "Ode to AMuseD", via the pictures that I was able to recover from Picassa....there will be no captions (unless I return later and add some), as this is just a journey down photography's skid row of blog photos. Let's take a look back at some of the pictures that caused Google such great controversy that they had to remove them all, while secretly saving them for their own trolling purposes !!!
And if you are a regular here, give yourself some AMuseMENt and see if you can identify what pics belonged to what blogs. Lmao !!!!! Love you, see you soon for the Blog'iversary !!!!!! It's almost been ONE WHOLE YEAR !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #TheRoadToABestSeller #ContinuesHere
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After going through both of my blogs and hitting the master delete button on ANY/ALL pictures I posted, leaving my blog with a series of X's and blank spaces where pictures used to live, I discovered the power of online storage.
Who knew that google was secretly, somewhat saving all the pictures I posted into Picassa, as well as Google Plus (which isn't the greatest because pictures that weren't necessary 'public' so to speak, were available for trolls on googleplus...nothing too bad, but nothing authorized either)....
I tend to not believe this is ALL the pictures I've posted from both of these blogs, however, there are lots left. So this post is an "Ode to AMuseD", via the pictures that I was able to recover from Picassa....there will be no captions (unless I return later and add some), as this is just a journey down photography's skid row of blog photos. Let's take a look back at some of the pictures that caused Google such great controversy that they had to remove them all, while secretly saving them for their own trolling purposes !!!
.jpg)
Yaw ready?
Tune back in.... 4.30.2015
Noon.
or if you know me, noonISH. ;)
Monday, April 13, 2015
These Hills Are Too Damn Big: Lessons from the Runway
Runway #9 (ithink) - Runway modeling is freaking fun and glam !!! I never would have thought I'd be able to model sometimes. ....but the best part of my experience with participating in hair and fashion shows are the lessons that inadvertently place themselves in the line of my eyefire. How dare I learn something about LIFE/LIVING from modeling ?? I am so thankful that I have been blessed with modeling opportunities.
Sometimes, they reiterate old lessons and sometimes, they usher in new ones dressed in gowns with a poppin lip ;)
Yesterday's fashion show was no different and it was at high school, which meant we modeled on school floors, which is equal to no carpet!!! Nothing but shine and reflections !!!!
lol.
I made the mistake of only grabbing one extra pair of shoes on my way out that morning: A pair of black lace booties, along with the shoes they requested I bring, which were a pair of butterfly pumps that I just bought about a month ago. These just happened to be the pair of heels I had in the car when I went for the fitting. They loved them and paired them with a cute dress and it made all the sense to everyone for me to wear those….it made sense to myself. I knew then that me wearing these shoes may or may not be a problem, but I thought I could do it. I take chances on myself. The reason these shoes were even in the car was because I had taken them to work with the intent of getting my feet acclimated to them. They are a half size too big but not because I don’t know what size I wear. They run big and I don’t remember reading that about the shoes, but seeing as tho they were online purchases, it’s always a chance being taken. I got them and realized the half a size is the difference between shoes flopping and me walking flawlessly in them. But they are pumps….i just thought I could make it work with them because they are pumps with no platform and a low arch. SO I never returned them for a smaller size. Also , I think I was concerned that I would get the smaller size and not be able to fit them at all, then I would end up w/o these cute shoes. I basically have the same result tho from keeping them. More on that later…..
Back to yesterday morning… I should have grabbed some other pumps but I was still sleep….i was out late and up until 2am fooling w/my hair, so I was still sleep at my 7 AM rising…..eyes open, but I was sleep.
Fast forward to the show. We arrived at the school and still thought 'i can do it' while casually listening to my instinct question my life choices ....
then we rehearsed ....to my surprise they put me first.
I’ve never walked first. I’ve lead my segment before ONCE and that was a choreographed segment, but I have never walked first out or last out. That is a lot of pressure. Every spot in a runway is a pressure filled spot because all eyes are most definitely on you, so there is no time for insecurities. But to be the person who starts it off or ends it, you have a hint of extra weight on top of you because you are either showing the audience how yaw are about to bring it or how you go out with a bang. With that being said, when she pulled me to start first, the first thing I thought was ‘oh no, but these shoes”. … Sheeesh, but I pumped myself up and said internally ‘you got this’. …I also may have chuckled a bit at God’s sense of humor…..I’m SURE God was sipping tea when I started walking…
..So I walked in them. Horrific.
Even the ladies of the boutique saw it and as I walked and struggled to keep these shoes from flopping off my feet, someone said ‘come on januarie, you can do better than that’ …I realized quick that whether or not I choose to claim myself as a model, I HAVE modeled before and people expect XYZ out of me. Just like in poetry: Folks expect me to come out with a long poem, perhaps about love or black people or maybe even a story. But they expect what I have given them in the past. At this quick rehearsal, I was not giving what I had given in the past.
I was giving something new: I call it, ‘I can’t walk in these’. Lol I gave them the I Can’t Walk iN These Heels’ treatment…..i struggled to get down to the end of the runway and every time I got to stop, I was able to regain control of my feet in these shoes. It didn’t help past four steps.
I thought to myself 'what you gonna do goofy?'
Have you ever try walking with your back straight, eyes focused, face on fierce, showcasing an outfit, on a slick floor w/fall potential in shoes that are too big?
When we got back to our area, the ladies had me try on a second dress to walk in. I initially tried to play it off with my black booties, but I knew the pumps would look better with the style of dress. It was requested that I wear the butterflies. Now, I had to walk twice, three times if you count the final all-model walk. From the rehearsal to the start of the show, which was at least over an hour, I contemplated what to do....I was excited because I was walking twice. But I was stressed because I was thinking ‘ there is no way I can do TWO shitty ass walks…I ain’t come out of town to look like I need OFF the runway fast” ….
What to do….do I suggest I wear the other shoes?
Play it off with these shoes?
Stuff them and practice now?
Do I 'forfeit' and say I can't do it? Will I be a disappointment?
Will I let myself down? What if I walk in them and fall?
What if I walk and they fall off my feet?
How will I play THAT off?
How will I be invited to walk again?
Oh the wonder-filled mind of januarie and all her selfie-questions. I’m usually the most quiet person in the room no matter the circumstance, but please believe in my head, I have a whole lot of thinking going on, about SOMETHING.
Finally, it was nearing showtime. We went backstage and I had both of my shoes there. We had about 15 mins before our turn when I had the bright idea to put toilet paper or napkins in my shoes. Sure it was a less than ideal situation and I would likely not ever do that in real life, but for sake of the runway, surely I can handle some TP in my shoes if it means my shoes will stay on the back of my feet. I tried it. Matter a fact, I tried several versions of this shoe stuffing. I stuffed the tips, the sides, the tips AND the sides. I balled up the napkin, I folded the napkin. I put my feet in first, I put them in last, I put them in after the paper then put more paper on top of my foot. I tried so many fucking versions of self help and after each time that I felt mildly secure in, I would go practice on the surface. After a few tries, it helped. At one point, I thought it a good idea to leave them on but then my feet started hurting and I figured that would do the walk a different type of injustice. So I took them off and right when it was our turn to line up, I put them on.
But not before my instinct had her day in court. I sat on the floor envisioning myself making a fool out of myself for three excruciating walks down the runway. I sat Indian style and silently asked myself: which one of these would make you look like the bigger fool? Suggesting that you wear the butterflies only once or walking in them both times. I knew the booties did not go with both dresses. They just didn’t and personally, I couldn’t let myself NOT try to make it once. If I made it, and made it well, then I could keep them on for the second walk. I sat there as time was winding down and our turn neared and then I just said it.
I looked at the ladies and moved in closer and said ‘I don’t think I can wear these shoes both times, they are too big”…..i briefly explained that they were new and too big and I would be willing to try if that’s what they really wanted but that I just didn’t want to look like fashion road kill……just that simple. And like that, it was over. I would go out in the butterflies, and when I came back to change, I’d wear the booties. I still thought I could do these butterflies once. I had practiced with the tissue enough to build a lil bit of confidence.
And then it was our turn.
I made sure my heels were tight as I could get them, with my feet secure in their place thanks to the tissue. And I was first, and just like that, it was my immediate turn:
The music started and strut (as best as possible and slow) out to the runway, turned, stopped and got ready to go hard. I went ……and that is exactly what it was: HARD!!!! By the time I arrived at the middle of the floor for the first stop and pose, I felt like snatching those shoes off my feet and walking w/a bounce and a smile. People wear videoing and taking pictures and I could hear my instinct saying ‘nah, you will NOT get me bad’….but anyone who was videoing probably did get me bad….i got to the end and it felt like I was out of breath….i turned and walked back down and was so thankful the next girl was coming out to take the attention off of myself. SHIT!!!!! FUCK!!!! DAMMIT JANUARIE!!!! <<<internal voice…..
Instead of posing at the end, I admit I diagonally walked to the back in a take off method: meaning, you would have thought I was about to run. I wanted OUT of those shoes. I wanted OUT of that hard situation that lowered my model-confidence and I felt like prevented me from wearing the shit out of such a cute dress !!! I was so concentrated on them shoes not falling, which was truly fucking with my walk quite a bit…I felt crooked and timid and was distracted that I didn’t even put my hands in the pockets the way I intended on.
Got to the back and was out of those shoes before I I was out the public eye. I love those shoes. They are so freaking cute and full of colorful butterflies against a white background w/solid blue stiletto heels. It saddens me that they were my problem.
But I threw those booties on quickly. I felt like I was putting myself back on solid ground. I half put them on while I was being zipped into my second dress. Yes, this is comfort. I wasn’t even bending down.
Got back to the line up and then back to my turn and my second stroll. I strut with all I could. I felt better. I felt my confidence come back. I felt like turning around and saying “yes bitches, I CAN walk, don’t get it twisted’….lololol
I didn’t. J
I got to the end with ease, walked back past the people with good feelings and hopped in the line for the final walk and did that with confidence all over again. It worked.
AND NOW,
The point:
“these hills are too damn big”
Sometimes, the hill looks like it cannot be scaled. Like there is no way to get up or around it. Sometimes, it’s as simple as us defeating ourselves before we arrive at the competition. Either we train our brains to dream in negatives or we put ourselves in the line of fire and then expect to be able to compete with it. I put myself in the line of fire by not mentioning on DAY ONE that those heels might be a problem for me to walk a runway in. Had I said so, then they would have never been in my possession that day, never would have been a problem and I could have had three flawless walks back to back. Had I gotten some rest (sometimes, you just gotta live a lil tho), or woke myself up out of lazy-decision making mode, I could have brought with me better choices to walk in. I have 100 pair of shoes. This was unacceptable. Oh vey, all the preventable problems we allow INTO our lives -_-
Finally and most importantly….COURAGE.
Finally and most importantly….COURAGE.
Courage is the difference between standing back, looking at the hill
Vs.
Standing back, looking from the hill.
Courage means standing up to face the problem head on and not being afraid to confront it. Not being afraid to make a suggestion at how to get over it. Not being so over-confident that you fool yourself into believing you can do things that you can’t do. And let’s face it and be honest: There ARE some things that we can’t do, no matter what the reason why. That’s life. We can approach a lot of stuff w/a superhuman mentality, but that won’t work if the situation is impossible. Hills are tricky. Some are huge, some are small.
Some are tall while others are not up that high, but the arch is a killer. Some hills are steep with a slippery surface, others you aren’t afraid to put your foot on the ground and know you have a solid platform. Some are up on platforms that are ridiculous. Other’s need the platform in order to be a hill….some will hurt, some won’t, some will leave bruises and other’s will require a lot of concentration to make it beyond.
Not all hills are created equal.
And not every one can be scaled. …however, it IS ok to try. It’s ok to be confident in yourself and say ‘I can do this’…..that’s the only way you will learn when you can’t ! And when you can’t, there is NOTHING wrong with stepping back and altering the situation, if possible, to fit your needs…..mountaineers don’t climb Everest without the necessary equipment and spending weeks and months prepping for the high altitudes.
Not all hills needs months of preparation, but every heel needs some practice.
Practice doesn’t really make perfect either, contrary to what you may have heard.
Practice doesn’t really make perfect either, contrary to what you may have heard.
Practice simply creates a blueprint of confidence. Practice makes you able. Practice tests and shows you just how ready you are.
Yesterday, I practiced using my voice outside of poetry. I confronted every possibility I could think of happening if I walked in those heels….and I thought of what the solution or prevention could be. Once I decided that I knew the best possible answer, I spoke up and saved myself and the boutique and the other models the embarrassment of me being so prideful that I walked in shoes that made me look like I didn’t know why I was there. I did, however, give my best in the butterfly pumps, all while gaining a new life lesson:
Never be afraid to look a hill in the eye and make a safety request on behalf of the people, yourself included,
And then,
Get to climbing. <3
Thursday, April 9, 2015
The I is NEVER Silent
Let's talk januarie & this blogi'versary briefly.
A year ago, after trying and trying to figure out what in the HELL would save my mind from spiraling out of control after a messy parting w/someone, I landed on the idea of a book.
Initially, I was gonna write up all these stories and publish them in a chapbook-form and give them away. I was gonna name it AMuseD, which is a 4 level entendre of epic proportions. That quickly turned unfeasible. I needed something in the right now. So, I thought I would make a blog out of what would have been the book. It would serve two fold:
1) it was the 'right now' action I needed,
2. It could develop at it's own pace, and if done correctly, I could still turn it into a book but rather than a chapbook, an actual BOOK. I had been toying w/writing my life as a book since about 2002. My homegirl used to tell me all the time that my life should be a book and people would love it. Hmmm. So that's where I stayed.
Well, I started the blog, built some anticipation around it by using creative 'flyers' that I circulated online to get a feel for who would even be interested. I named the URL "The I is NEVER Silent", that was taken from an old Tumblr blog I had. The " I " in that represents the I in my real name (KendrIa) and the fact that silence is something I just don't do well anymore unless I WANT to.
Every Wednesday, I would blindly go in and blog about whosoever popped up as a relatable story, with the majority centering around my most recent run-in w/a mistaken identity case. I stopped posting every Wednesday as the healing grew in abundance....and when I say this has helped GREATLY in healing me, that is an understatement. I can't imagine all of this still being pinned up inside of me. Because this is my personal life on public display, yet what I feel is apart of my calling as a writer (I am literally the black Carrie B.), I've limited to the audience. And I admit, there are about 5 stories that I wrote, in clear details with the intent to leave open, but ended up going back and making them private. It's a nonstop transparent coat of fear and fearlessness....sometimes, I do feel like I've exposed too much of ME and so, I take it back * shrug *
There are roughly 70 or so people on the list, who have been asked to not share the blogs, as because this is personal and it is healing, I need to do it 100% public at my own pace. It's very public and very open. But unless you are trolling for it, you wouldn't know. And even if you were trolling, I guess you need some KEY WORDS....I started off sharing the links every time I posted and then I stopped. I moved more to a place of intentional healing and non-fiction storytelling that felt more comfortable NOT sharing links, but rather trusting that there was at least one person who felt so connected to what I was saying that they would return time and time again without me prompting.
I was right! And Smooches to You/Yaw <3 <3 <3 <3
I keep going when I think I've said or done too much because of you!!! And because of those who come after seeing a link posted. I've posted the link 'publicly' before as well (meaning outside of 'the list') ....but I don't do that often.
Well, here we are. Nearly one entire year later. 52 blogs with about 45 or so being visible ;)
A month or so ago, Google announced their decision to take down explicit content from their blogs. After they received a huge backlash, they double backed and said nevermind. But that nevermind did not stop them from deleting every single picture I had EVER posted between two blogs (i have another one that is centered around MyLifeAsAPoetGirl since 09)....hardly any were 'explicit' and every one of them had purpose. So it made me very uncomfortable ever posting again. But as life would have it, I have to keep going because I"m not done yet.
This chapter is not closed. There is more awareness about myself that I have to learn through my own writing of my life. See, that's what this blog is. While it is truth that it basically snitches on niggas ( shrug ), it is more of a reflection of myself and my decisions and choices, because EVERY person in EVERY blog was a CHOICE I made. In addition to that, this will be a book. Remember I talked about wanting to turn it into a real book?
Well that will happen.
I still do not know when .....i'm sure that will reveal itself in due time. But what I know is this can and will be a book, a hardcover book sold in places like amazon and bookstores. These things, this stuff, these men and this hurt did not happen to me solely because my decisions are a poor person's pockets....they happened for purpose...reason. And the book will help someone more than this blog helped me. My vision is it will make it on the NY BestSellers list. I don't see why I don't have that capability, especially seeing as though I am writing my story. A story that many don't share but many have experienced in some way or another. There are still things I have not said and things I will likely never mentioned (and of course the things I have said and taken away) ......
So with all this being said, I thank you and hope that you will stick with me, not just for the journey of this blog, but for the journey of the book!!! When i get that email to schedule my book tour, I want to personally invite you to be there...idk what it will take to make it happen, but if I can, Lord knows, I will.....there are 70 regular visitors here. I know who you ares. I thank you from the bottom of my broken heart to the top of it's mending. I was hurt without you watching and reading. But part of the reason I have healed as I have is because many of you have not hesitated to tell me that it's not just me. To share your experiences back with me. To say THANK YOU for sharing. I love you. I love you more than this blog will let me share. I appreciate you and I am something without you, but I am most definitely 100% greater and better having had you here, on this journey through my amusement park, with me.
Thank you for holding my hand.This blogi'versary is a BIG FUCKING DEAL to me.
You have officially witnessed a book being written. NOt just any book tho. A 2017 NY Times Best Seller. This blog is not here to call niggas out and make them pay for hurting me. I've thought about abandoning this project many times and many times, this blog is who I turned to when I was hurting at random. Missing at random. Needy and wanting to hug, fuck, talk or date at random. This blog didn't save my life. But it kept it from needing saving from myself.
This blog exists to force us to be accountable for who and what we let into our lives and what we let happen ....and most of all, it exists to remind us that our Crowns fall. We change our hair, our clothes, we take showers and go to sleep....our crowns are not always on top of our heads. But there is NEVER a point when you can't put it back on, adjust it as needed and be one with your royal. Cheers to evolution of us. Cheers to healing. If never I was fearless before, this blog gave me new fearless shoes to walk in !!!! It's scary to do this. There are so many potential 'repurcussions' that could come because of what I have said. There are stories niggas thought I would keep secret forevers. To tell the truth, this blog could get me killed, hurt, beat up, possibly sued (but they would lose...i'm smart), etc, etc......
But who am I to stop because fear says I should? I have shit to say and a poem ain't gonna do it and the Indy Recorder is NOT the place for it. So cheers, to fearless flying !!!
Cheers to being Amused by Muses who have Used us until the well went dry and the gasoline set fire to love <3 Cheers to the next step!
Initially, I was gonna write up all these stories and publish them in a chapbook-form and give them away. I was gonna name it AMuseD, which is a 4 level entendre of epic proportions. That quickly turned unfeasible. I needed something in the right now. So, I thought I would make a blog out of what would have been the book. It would serve two fold:
1) it was the 'right now' action I needed,
2. It could develop at it's own pace, and if done correctly, I could still turn it into a book but rather than a chapbook, an actual BOOK. I had been toying w/writing my life as a book since about 2002. My homegirl used to tell me all the time that my life should be a book and people would love it. Hmmm. So that's where I stayed.
Well, I started the blog, built some anticipation around it by using creative 'flyers' that I circulated online to get a feel for who would even be interested. I named the URL "The I is NEVER Silent", that was taken from an old Tumblr blog I had. The " I " in that represents the I in my real name (KendrIa) and the fact that silence is something I just don't do well anymore unless I WANT to.
Every Wednesday, I would blindly go in and blog about whosoever popped up as a relatable story, with the majority centering around my most recent run-in w/a mistaken identity case. I stopped posting every Wednesday as the healing grew in abundance....and when I say this has helped GREATLY in healing me, that is an understatement. I can't imagine all of this still being pinned up inside of me. Because this is my personal life on public display, yet what I feel is apart of my calling as a writer (I am literally the black Carrie B.), I've limited to the audience. And I admit, there are about 5 stories that I wrote, in clear details with the intent to leave open, but ended up going back and making them private. It's a nonstop transparent coat of fear and fearlessness....sometimes, I do feel like I've exposed too much of ME and so, I take it back * shrug *
There are roughly 70 or so people on the list, who have been asked to not share the blogs, as because this is personal and it is healing, I need to do it 100% public at my own pace. It's very public and very open. But unless you are trolling for it, you wouldn't know. And even if you were trolling, I guess you need some KEY WORDS....I started off sharing the links every time I posted and then I stopped. I moved more to a place of intentional healing and non-fiction storytelling that felt more comfortable NOT sharing links, but rather trusting that there was at least one person who felt so connected to what I was saying that they would return time and time again without me prompting.
I was right! And Smooches to You/Yaw <3 <3 <3 <3
I keep going when I think I've said or done too much because of you!!! And because of those who come after seeing a link posted. I've posted the link 'publicly' before as well (meaning outside of 'the list') ....but I don't do that often.
Well, here we are. Nearly one entire year later. 52 blogs with about 45 or so being visible ;)
A month or so ago, Google announced their decision to take down explicit content from their blogs. After they received a huge backlash, they double backed and said nevermind. But that nevermind did not stop them from deleting every single picture I had EVER posted between two blogs (i have another one that is centered around MyLifeAsAPoetGirl since 09)....hardly any were 'explicit' and every one of them had purpose. So it made me very uncomfortable ever posting again. But as life would have it, I have to keep going because I"m not done yet.
This chapter is not closed. There is more awareness about myself that I have to learn through my own writing of my life. See, that's what this blog is. While it is truth that it basically snitches on niggas ( shrug ), it is more of a reflection of myself and my decisions and choices, because EVERY person in EVERY blog was a CHOICE I made. In addition to that, this will be a book. Remember I talked about wanting to turn it into a real book?
Well that will happen.
I still do not know when .....i'm sure that will reveal itself in due time. But what I know is this can and will be a book, a hardcover book sold in places like amazon and bookstores. These things, this stuff, these men and this hurt did not happen to me solely because my decisions are a poor person's pockets....they happened for purpose...reason. And the book will help someone more than this blog helped me. My vision is it will make it on the NY BestSellers list. I don't see why I don't have that capability, especially seeing as though I am writing my story. A story that many don't share but many have experienced in some way or another. There are still things I have not said and things I will likely never mentioned (and of course the things I have said and taken away) ......
So with all this being said, I thank you and hope that you will stick with me, not just for the journey of this blog, but for the journey of the book!!! When i get that email to schedule my book tour, I want to personally invite you to be there...idk what it will take to make it happen, but if I can, Lord knows, I will.....there are 70 regular visitors here. I know who you ares. I thank you from the bottom of my broken heart to the top of it's mending. I was hurt without you watching and reading. But part of the reason I have healed as I have is because many of you have not hesitated to tell me that it's not just me. To share your experiences back with me. To say THANK YOU for sharing. I love you. I love you more than this blog will let me share. I appreciate you and I am something without you, but I am most definitely 100% greater and better having had you here, on this journey through my amusement park, with me.
Thank you for holding my hand.This blogi'versary is a BIG FUCKING DEAL to me.
You have officially witnessed a book being written. NOt just any book tho. A 2017 NY Times Best Seller. This blog is not here to call niggas out and make them pay for hurting me. I've thought about abandoning this project many times and many times, this blog is who I turned to when I was hurting at random. Missing at random. Needy and wanting to hug, fuck, talk or date at random. This blog didn't save my life. But it kept it from needing saving from myself.
This blog exists to force us to be accountable for who and what we let into our lives and what we let happen ....and most of all, it exists to remind us that our Crowns fall. We change our hair, our clothes, we take showers and go to sleep....our crowns are not always on top of our heads. But there is NEVER a point when you can't put it back on, adjust it as needed and be one with your royal. Cheers to evolution of us. Cheers to healing. If never I was fearless before, this blog gave me new fearless shoes to walk in !!!! It's scary to do this. There are so many potential 'repurcussions' that could come because of what I have said. There are stories niggas thought I would keep secret forevers. To tell the truth, this blog could get me killed, hurt, beat up, possibly sued (but they would lose...i'm smart), etc, etc......
But who am I to stop because fear says I should? I have shit to say and a poem ain't gonna do it and the Indy Recorder is NOT the place for it. So cheers, to fearless flying !!!
Cheers to being Amused by Muses who have Used us until the well went dry and the gasoline set fire to love <3 Cheers to the next step!
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING: The Road to the One Year Anniversary Blog.
Lord, God, Father, Jesus, Christ, HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING,
somebody please listen to this. ....
or read it.
First off,
I am currently listening to Miley Cyrus on repeat. That alone is problematic to say the least. In my defense, as I'm sure you may know, I just switched off Stankonia. So I guess I needed a drastic quick change of pace and somehow or another, I landed on Wrecking Ball.
I know why!!!
I saw it on the 'trending' feed. Anne Hathaway apparently lip synced Wrecking Ball on last night's celebrity lip sync show. Can I also know how come I can't be on this show? I know, I''m no one's celebrity besides Miss P & Lazarus, but just in the fact that I have spent my life lip syncing lyrics like I wrote AND performed them countless times prior, in front of sold out audiences, should allow me a ticket to play on this show. I really just want to do Chandelier. Oh well....maybe another life.
Back to the reason I am here:
Blogtrack: Wrecking Ball, Miley Cyrus
"I never meant to start a war
i just wanted you to let me in
and instead of using force
i guess I should've let you win
Don't you ever say, i just walked away, I will always want you. ... .
I came in like a wrecking ball
I never hit so hard in love
all i wanted was to break your walls
all you ever did was -
wreck me
I came in like a wrecking ball
i just closed my eyes and swung
you left me crouching in a blazing fall
all you ever did was -
-wreck me
Yeah you,
wrecked me.."
It's amazing the songs and the people who have the ability to sing our lives on stage without having ever met us. Someone, somewhere wrote this song. Idk if it was Miley or a ghostwriter.....but whoever penned this piece surely had to know what it feels to be 'wrecked' by someone.
I have listened to this before. I've 'heard' it before. Today, I heard it and actually took in the lyrics of the chorus and was thrown back a bit. I blame that accidental quick bread that Stankonia baked over my ear drums. .....It's not him I'm thinking of.
It's everybody.
Allofem.
I carry them with me and I know it. I know it from my post yesterday. I feel like I am bound and gagged and just shy of toe tagged to the luggage they drag across airports as they fly higher with a better person. ...a more qualified LOVE. I am still here, after all this, alone. I'm not mad about it, but I feel like I've grown quite bitter. I can taste it when I swallow in the early mornings.
When I reach for water in the middle of night, if it's not cool enough, I feel like I can taste the saltiness of nigga shoulders and lies......i was wrecked by someone. But that wreck wasn't what did me in. I've talked about him and about them all through the streets of this fancy blog, so there is no real need to go over it again, but Lord, God, Father, Jesus, Christ, HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING, I am so not trying to be condescending .....
I need freeing from this.
I need to be salvaged and saved from this disgrace of my emotional fallout......EVERYONE has gone on, but me.
I'm still living in the shadows of the sound of my heart being misused again....i still bask and dream within my mistakes and the karma that I at least thought I reaped SOME of (if not all)....i bathe in this mess....this is so messy. This blog is approaching it's year anniversary and as I gear up to pen my 'Now What' blog, I can't help but remember the time in my life, before the hurt and broken pieces were scattered everywhere, when 'NOW WHAT' was the name of the beauty shop I planned to open.
Now what is now my "what's next".
I keep seeing posts from different people about five year plans and life plans and here and now and then later plans.....I have plans. I have goals and dreams. I have things I am trying to do, i have made changes and continue to try to make better and new ones.....even when I step backwards for a second, I still shake my head at myself, pick up and move forward.....so how is it that I have landed in a solo arena of burning bitterness.
Lord, I do not want to be bitter.
Dear audience, if you are out there, bitter is not something to be proud of.
I am not a man eater. But I am bitter....I've been hurt, upset, angry and plethora of other emotions in the years that I have been dating and loving and liking folks, but the bitter me....this new chick ....this chick that I am uncomfortable giving the reigns to control the life and times of januarie york with, is sick. Not sick like a stomach ache or the flu, or even sick in the head.....
...more sick and tired.
The age old saying.....Sick and tired of the 'wonder' of 'will it ever be me"....no matter how comfortable I make myself or force myself to be with the way things are, I am a woman and if that means nothing, then I am who I am and I just have a hard time accepting that I was born with all this love inside of me and meant to share it in friendships and adopted family kinships.....
Is it because I am not well with my family, despite the fact that I love them each dearly?
Is it because of the abortions?
Is it because of lies I have told?
Or because of the bankruptcy? Is it because my truckie is over ten years old?
Or because of the things I have lost ?
Or because I love my dogs more than most humans?
Is there really no room out there for me to be loved in such a way that a man would see me and think constantly and consistently to himself that he would be less of a man, of a person, if he were not spending the rest of his life with me?
Is there really no other creation out there ? Did I let him pass me by? Did I kick him to the curb?
I don't have the answers to any of this and the truth is, I had, until just now, stopped throwing these questions in the dark.
I want to be ok with being single and so far, I have made a great deal of peace with it. Almost a dangerous amount of peace. I find it hard to let someone in my space....after ten minutes, I want them to leave.....i don't want to have conversations that open up my head and let them see inside. I don't want to share too much or laugh too hard because I KNOW (or expect) that the end is so near I can taste the resurrection.....
I just want to be ok. Not a wreck. Not the next crash test dummy or the sound of steel mangling around it's self and locking me in .....
I don't want to be a wreck. I don't want to be a bitter messed up in the head wreck. I don't want to block love IF love really exists for me.
Like, seriously.....Lord. God. Father. Jesus. Christ. HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING, I jUST WANT TO BE Ok !!!!!
I want to NOT be bitter.
I want to not think about devon. Or randy. Or dennis. Or diesel. Or date another man who's name starts with a D. I don't want to think about the white guy. Or the last guy. Or all the times I've been stood up in the past two years. I don't want to want to dwell in this space of negative thoughts and emotions towards men, but it seems like I have spiraled down a rabbit whole where sharks bite and I have become one of them: A SHARK. o.O
I don't want to be a shark. I don't want it to be MY jaws of which bitter pills live and exist and aimlessly troll my nervous system, making me shake with fear of ever meeting another man who will hurt me or collecting another soul that will mean nothing after 48 hours .....
I just want to be ok.
I want to be ok with it NOT being me who gets married. I Still find myself in conversations discussing what 'my wedding' would look like ....i find myself drifting sometimes at the idea of someone making secret plans of some over the top but perfect for me engagement that involved my loved ones .....
I want to be ok with never having children.
I'm not PMS'ing, so this isn't a fleeting sense of bitter. This is what it is. I have to go to rehearsal for the Vagina Monologues tonight ...my vagina has no words. She's over it.
I want a new one. An untainted one. One that has never been robbed or touched with ill, selfish intent or soothed with lies and kisses.
I want it back. I want the woman who loved first and asked questions later; only I want to control her. I want not to be bitter.
I want not to snatch my earphones out so hard, I almost disconnect them from their own chords because Stankonia came on and I can't separate the words from the song from the moment that a nonsexual chemistry was shared. Words were shared. I want to NOT care about ANY of that anymore.....i want to listen to 20/20 and bang my head hard to Tunnel Vision....i want to see pictures of me and not think BEFORE HEARTBREAK #(enter number). I want to NOT be heartbroken anymore....it's not my dad.
it's not my stepdad.
It's not even the Ex's and accidentals and mistaken identities that are consuming and forcing a moldy, lemon squirt down my throat.
It's me.
It's all me.
It's inside of me. THEY are still existing inside of me and no matter how many songs i lip sync to or avoid, and no matter how many poems I stop writing and blogs I start constructing, I have not successfully rid my life of the remnants of them. It's not 'them.' ....it's the 'act'.....
it's the carelessness....
it's the callousness
it's the no shame
the forgotten me
the fact that I have been so easily replaced so many times.
So easily forgotten....
and here I sit,
still stewing like a beefy bowl of WTF. ....
How could I be januarie york and kendria smith, all in one life. Wasn't it januarie writing all those 'uplift the black man poems" ???? But wasn't it Kendria who quickly realized she was not influencing or inspiring the man she was in a relationship with?
Ugh Lord.
UGH!!!!!
Bitter lives here.
I have been reluctant to stake my claim on being such an ugly word, but perhaps that has been making me pretend that I'm not, thus stalling the process of getting rid of it. Let's try this blog. I am admitting to something that I've known for awhile. I'm not mad at #MuseWeasel still. I really am not. I'm not 'mad' at anyone, at least not as mad as I am at self for even still being able to FEEL ANYTHING....
how is it i have not depleted myself of this crap yet?
Maybe it's from ignoring. Or pretending. Either way, I admit it here, now:
I am bitter. :/ Ashamed to say that but * shrug *
And dear Lord, Father, God, Jesus, Christ, HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING,
I really, REALLY do not want to be, anymore. <3
Blogtrack:
Edge of Desire, John Mayer.
"Love is,
really nothing
but a dream that keeps waking me
for all of our trying
we still end up dying
how can it be....."
somebody please listen to this. ....
or read it.
First off,
I am currently listening to Miley Cyrus on repeat. That alone is problematic to say the least. In my defense, as I'm sure you may know, I just switched off Stankonia. So I guess I needed a drastic quick change of pace and somehow or another, I landed on Wrecking Ball.
I know why!!!
I saw it on the 'trending' feed. Anne Hathaway apparently lip synced Wrecking Ball on last night's celebrity lip sync show. Can I also know how come I can't be on this show? I know, I''m no one's celebrity besides Miss P & Lazarus, but just in the fact that I have spent my life lip syncing lyrics like I wrote AND performed them countless times prior, in front of sold out audiences, should allow me a ticket to play on this show. I really just want to do Chandelier. Oh well....maybe another life.
Back to the reason I am here:
Blogtrack: Wrecking Ball, Miley Cyrus
"I never meant to start a war
i just wanted you to let me in
and instead of using force
i guess I should've let you win
Don't you ever say, i just walked away, I will always want you. ... .
I came in like a wrecking ball
I never hit so hard in love
all i wanted was to break your walls
all you ever did was -
wreck me
I came in like a wrecking ball
i just closed my eyes and swung
you left me crouching in a blazing fall
all you ever did was -
-wreck me
Yeah you,
wrecked me.."
It's amazing the songs and the people who have the ability to sing our lives on stage without having ever met us. Someone, somewhere wrote this song. Idk if it was Miley or a ghostwriter.....but whoever penned this piece surely had to know what it feels to be 'wrecked' by someone.
I have listened to this before. I've 'heard' it before. Today, I heard it and actually took in the lyrics of the chorus and was thrown back a bit. I blame that accidental quick bread that Stankonia baked over my ear drums. .....It's not him I'm thinking of.
It's everybody.
Allofem.
I carry them with me and I know it. I know it from my post yesterday. I feel like I am bound and gagged and just shy of toe tagged to the luggage they drag across airports as they fly higher with a better person. ...a more qualified LOVE. I am still here, after all this, alone. I'm not mad about it, but I feel like I've grown quite bitter. I can taste it when I swallow in the early mornings.
When I reach for water in the middle of night, if it's not cool enough, I feel like I can taste the saltiness of nigga shoulders and lies......i was wrecked by someone. But that wreck wasn't what did me in. I've talked about him and about them all through the streets of this fancy blog, so there is no real need to go over it again, but Lord, God, Father, Jesus, Christ, HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING, I am so not trying to be condescending .....
I need freeing from this.
I need to be salvaged and saved from this disgrace of my emotional fallout......EVERYONE has gone on, but me.
I'm still living in the shadows of the sound of my heart being misused again....i still bask and dream within my mistakes and the karma that I at least thought I reaped SOME of (if not all)....i bathe in this mess....this is so messy. This blog is approaching it's year anniversary and as I gear up to pen my 'Now What' blog, I can't help but remember the time in my life, before the hurt and broken pieces were scattered everywhere, when 'NOW WHAT' was the name of the beauty shop I planned to open.
Now what is now my "what's next".
I keep seeing posts from different people about five year plans and life plans and here and now and then later plans.....I have plans. I have goals and dreams. I have things I am trying to do, i have made changes and continue to try to make better and new ones.....even when I step backwards for a second, I still shake my head at myself, pick up and move forward.....so how is it that I have landed in a solo arena of burning bitterness.
Lord, I do not want to be bitter.
Dear audience, if you are out there, bitter is not something to be proud of.
I am not a man eater. But I am bitter....I've been hurt, upset, angry and plethora of other emotions in the years that I have been dating and loving and liking folks, but the bitter me....this new chick ....this chick that I am uncomfortable giving the reigns to control the life and times of januarie york with, is sick. Not sick like a stomach ache or the flu, or even sick in the head.....
...more sick and tired.
The age old saying.....Sick and tired of the 'wonder' of 'will it ever be me"....no matter how comfortable I make myself or force myself to be with the way things are, I am a woman and if that means nothing, then I am who I am and I just have a hard time accepting that I was born with all this love inside of me and meant to share it in friendships and adopted family kinships.....
Is it because I am not well with my family, despite the fact that I love them each dearly?
Is it because of the abortions?
Is it because of lies I have told?
Or because of the bankruptcy? Is it because my truckie is over ten years old?
Or because of the things I have lost ?
Or because I love my dogs more than most humans?
Is there really no room out there for me to be loved in such a way that a man would see me and think constantly and consistently to himself that he would be less of a man, of a person, if he were not spending the rest of his life with me?
Is there really no other creation out there ? Did I let him pass me by? Did I kick him to the curb?
I don't have the answers to any of this and the truth is, I had, until just now, stopped throwing these questions in the dark.
I want to be ok with being single and so far, I have made a great deal of peace with it. Almost a dangerous amount of peace. I find it hard to let someone in my space....after ten minutes, I want them to leave.....i don't want to have conversations that open up my head and let them see inside. I don't want to share too much or laugh too hard because I KNOW (or expect) that the end is so near I can taste the resurrection.....
I just want to be ok. Not a wreck. Not the next crash test dummy or the sound of steel mangling around it's self and locking me in .....
I don't want to be a wreck. I don't want to be a bitter messed up in the head wreck. I don't want to block love IF love really exists for me.
Like, seriously.....Lord. God. Father. Jesus. Christ. HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING, I jUST WANT TO BE Ok !!!!!
I want to NOT be bitter.
I want to not think about devon. Or randy. Or dennis. Or diesel. Or date another man who's name starts with a D. I don't want to think about the white guy. Or the last guy. Or all the times I've been stood up in the past two years. I don't want to want to dwell in this space of negative thoughts and emotions towards men, but it seems like I have spiraled down a rabbit whole where sharks bite and I have become one of them: A SHARK. o.O
I don't want to be a shark. I don't want it to be MY jaws of which bitter pills live and exist and aimlessly troll my nervous system, making me shake with fear of ever meeting another man who will hurt me or collecting another soul that will mean nothing after 48 hours .....
I just want to be ok.
I want to be ok with it NOT being me who gets married. I Still find myself in conversations discussing what 'my wedding' would look like ....i find myself drifting sometimes at the idea of someone making secret plans of some over the top but perfect for me engagement that involved my loved ones .....
I want to be ok with never having children.
I'm not PMS'ing, so this isn't a fleeting sense of bitter. This is what it is. I have to go to rehearsal for the Vagina Monologues tonight ...my vagina has no words. She's over it.
I want a new one. An untainted one. One that has never been robbed or touched with ill, selfish intent or soothed with lies and kisses.
I want it back. I want the woman who loved first and asked questions later; only I want to control her. I want not to be bitter.
I want not to snatch my earphones out so hard, I almost disconnect them from their own chords because Stankonia came on and I can't separate the words from the song from the moment that a nonsexual chemistry was shared. Words were shared. I want to NOT care about ANY of that anymore.....i want to listen to 20/20 and bang my head hard to Tunnel Vision....i want to see pictures of me and not think BEFORE HEARTBREAK #(enter number). I want to NOT be heartbroken anymore....it's not my dad.
it's not my stepdad.
It's not even the Ex's and accidentals and mistaken identities that are consuming and forcing a moldy, lemon squirt down my throat.
It's me.
It's all me.
It's inside of me. THEY are still existing inside of me and no matter how many songs i lip sync to or avoid, and no matter how many poems I stop writing and blogs I start constructing, I have not successfully rid my life of the remnants of them. It's not 'them.' ....it's the 'act'.....
it's the carelessness....
it's the callousness
it's the no shame
the forgotten me
the fact that I have been so easily replaced so many times.
So easily forgotten....
and here I sit,
still stewing like a beefy bowl of WTF. ....
How could I be januarie york and kendria smith, all in one life. Wasn't it januarie writing all those 'uplift the black man poems" ???? But wasn't it Kendria who quickly realized she was not influencing or inspiring the man she was in a relationship with?
Ugh Lord.
UGH!!!!!
Bitter lives here.
I have been reluctant to stake my claim on being such an ugly word, but perhaps that has been making me pretend that I'm not, thus stalling the process of getting rid of it. Let's try this blog. I am admitting to something that I've known for awhile. I'm not mad at #MuseWeasel still. I really am not. I'm not 'mad' at anyone, at least not as mad as I am at self for even still being able to FEEL ANYTHING....
how is it i have not depleted myself of this crap yet?
Maybe it's from ignoring. Or pretending. Either way, I admit it here, now:
I am bitter. :/ Ashamed to say that but * shrug *
And dear Lord, Father, God, Jesus, Christ, HARP HEAR THE ANGELS SING,
I really, REALLY do not want to be, anymore. <3
Blogtrack:
Edge of Desire, John Mayer.
"Love is,
really nothing
but a dream that keeps waking me
for all of our trying
we still end up dying
how can it be....."
Monday, April 6, 2015
...............2
Blogtrack: STAY, Rihanna
Dear Devon,
* sigh *
So,
I closed my eyes a few nights ago and there you were. And then again, a couple of nights later, you reappeared in the same place: My Dreams.
The second dream is not as vivid as the first one. The first one tho....VERY vivid. I saw your face skip a heartbeat when I told you I still loved you and always would. Your sentiments echoed mine and it was as if you had spent the last hand full of years waiting to hear me say that.
I remember how hard you fought with me to maintain a place in my life. I remember the last time we spoke: Right after I had cut off all my hair and you asked me to send you a picture. Somehow, this turned into something way off subject. You hung up on me. And I decided to never speak to you again, not knowing at the time, that for all the life that remained after that moment, I would still think and dream of you. It's unfair. We didn't stand a chance with each other by the time that phone call had happened. The best we could offer is what we were trying to salvage: Friendship. We tried hard, I will give it to both of us.
We tried with all we had to try with.
"Funny you're the broken one, but I'm the only one who needed saving
cause when you never see the light, it's hard to know which one of us is caving"
~Rihanna.
Sounds like words that were meant for us right ? Lol.
So where do I begin? What have I blogged to say in letter form to you? You will never see this....that much I know, but I guess I"m hoping to free myself from the chains and confines of the love that once upon a time, we shared. We just didn't know how to share it appropriately.
Sex, lies, drugs, .......we tried every wrong way to share what we felt for each other. But to no avail. Our results always equaled nothing.
I came to this blog for a reason. I don't discuss you much. I have only spoken of you once in this blog and maybe there are a few hints and clues scattered elsewhere, but as far as a dedicated blog, I only did the first one.
But nonetheless, you enter my dreams like you belong there. You come to me in my dreams, spilling love and need for me all over the place. I repeat the same back to you and we mosey off into the sunset. But that's dream bullshit. Reality is another fiddle to be tuned before played.
Our reality was shaped many years before we stopped playing clay master in the pottery barn of our shacked up love. We broke each other and I guess I broke you up. I guess I helped you, like I do so well, grow better and wiser and treat the woman you would ultimately marry with undying love and respect. Ahhhh at the expense of my reproductive system ? Or nah?
Dear Devon,
* sigh *
So,
I closed my eyes a few nights ago and there you were. And then again, a couple of nights later, you reappeared in the same place: My Dreams.
The second dream is not as vivid as the first one. The first one tho....VERY vivid. I saw your face skip a heartbeat when I told you I still loved you and always would. Your sentiments echoed mine and it was as if you had spent the last hand full of years waiting to hear me say that.
I remember how hard you fought with me to maintain a place in my life. I remember the last time we spoke: Right after I had cut off all my hair and you asked me to send you a picture. Somehow, this turned into something way off subject. You hung up on me. And I decided to never speak to you again, not knowing at the time, that for all the life that remained after that moment, I would still think and dream of you. It's unfair. We didn't stand a chance with each other by the time that phone call had happened. The best we could offer is what we were trying to salvage: Friendship. We tried hard, I will give it to both of us.
We tried with all we had to try with.
"Funny you're the broken one, but I'm the only one who needed saving
cause when you never see the light, it's hard to know which one of us is caving"
~Rihanna.
Sounds like words that were meant for us right ? Lol.
So where do I begin? What have I blogged to say in letter form to you? You will never see this....that much I know, but I guess I"m hoping to free myself from the chains and confines of the love that once upon a time, we shared. We just didn't know how to share it appropriately.
Sex, lies, drugs, .......we tried every wrong way to share what we felt for each other. But to no avail. Our results always equaled nothing.
I came to this blog for a reason. I don't discuss you much. I have only spoken of you once in this blog and maybe there are a few hints and clues scattered elsewhere, but as far as a dedicated blog, I only did the first one.
But nonetheless, you enter my dreams like you belong there. You come to me in my dreams, spilling love and need for me all over the place. I repeat the same back to you and we mosey off into the sunset. But that's dream bullshit. Reality is another fiddle to be tuned before played.
Our reality was shaped many years before we stopped playing clay master in the pottery barn of our shacked up love. We broke each other and I guess I broke you up. I guess I helped you, like I do so well, grow better and wiser and treat the woman you would ultimately marry with undying love and respect. Ahhhh at the expense of my reproductive system ? Or nah?
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
PhuckMyMirror-Faking Syndrome
I was gonna make this a facebook post. I decided to post it here and trust who saw it. <3 * shrug * ****ALSO: This blog will continue (FYI), but it will be moved to my new upcoming website. .....as soon as i pay for it O.O !
When I was 21, I was a dancer. It was because of this job that I quickly learned about the area on my back that was changing. It started off small, like spider bite. It came out of no where. ....one day my back was normal, the next people were asking me 'what happened' to my back....I called it a spider bite, expecting it to go away...i thought if it wasn't a spider bite, it was an effect of my extremely sensitive skin and the dirty trife-life of rolling around on a stage that has footprints, ass pops and coochie squirts all over it o.O .
It stayed through the duration of my time there....by the time I re-entered corporate America, it had grown enough to prevent me from wearing backless-shirts & dresses.
At some point, I weighed over 200 LBS. It grew as my weight did. By the time I had lost the weight gain, this 'thing' had grown into a huge NOTICEABLE mass that now made me need a bigger size in shirts. I went to the doctor, fearing cancer (of course) and was diagnosed several times w/a Lipoma. A very common pocket of fat that just magically grows for no reason other than to make you unhappy. They are as common as boils and need surgical out-patient removal. Mine (IMO) is huge. It sits on my back and drives me crazy. I always feel like everyone is staring at it, although most people say they didn't notice until I mentioned it. It's so big that in past relationships since it's arrival, I've had a 'disclosure moment'.
This year, I finally made the leap and got health insurance. Besides being at a high risk for cancer and needing a mammogram, this Lipoma was my motivator, as it will be removed this year!!!!!!!! But before I removed it, I had to do something with it. I never ask photographers to edit my face, brush away blemishes and half the time, i only have on eyeliner. But this thing on my back is always what I ask to be removed from photos. Only one photographer told me to embrace it and refused to crop/edit/photoshop it away. And it was her voice I heard when I decided to do this. So, I did it. Intently and with purpose. This is certainly not my only flaw....but it's a major THING in my life. It's something I'm always conscious of, often thinking about, have feared, scratched, stared at excessively, cried about....it's something that I thought took away from me. Of course this photo won't show it how I see it.....but it shows it. It shows enough. And I showed IT, that I've had enough.
Fuck Fear. Fuck being disappointed that my body turned against me for no reason. Fuck being mad about my luck. Fuck being scared to get a diagnosis. Fuck doctors squeezing it and charging 200 to tell me I need another 1000 dollars to not see it again. Fuck spider bites. Fuck imagination. Fuck dirty stages. Fuck faking it. Fuck pretending it's not really there. Fuck photoshopping it out of my pictures while it stays in my life. Fuck my facade.
FUCK MY MIRROR FAKING!
I embraced me.
Allow me to introduce what is left of Butter. If you were looking for her, all her memories are wrapped up in this pocket o'fat and will be removed within the next 6 months. I am flawed. Heavily. Beautifully. And I don't dance no more; all I do is spit !
And special thanks to Cheria Caldwell/Owtspoken Photography for planting this seed years ago by refusing to edit it out. Also, thank you to Choo Lynn/ANKH Photography for a fun, flirty shoot in my truth. <3 #LegendaryLadies #Women #BlackGirlsROCK
This is huge. May not seem like anything but a long, ignorable post (and that's why it's over here.....baby steps), but for me, this is another step towards the Light. <3 #EmbraceFlaws
When I was 21, I was a dancer. It was because of this job that I quickly learned about the area on my back that was changing. It started off small, like spider bite. It came out of no where. ....one day my back was normal, the next people were asking me 'what happened' to my back....I called it a spider bite, expecting it to go away...i thought if it wasn't a spider bite, it was an effect of my extremely sensitive skin and the dirty trife-life of rolling around on a stage that has footprints, ass pops and coochie squirts all over it o.O .
It stayed through the duration of my time there....by the time I re-entered corporate America, it had grown enough to prevent me from wearing backless-shirts & dresses.
At some point, I weighed over 200 LBS. It grew as my weight did. By the time I had lost the weight gain, this 'thing' had grown into a huge NOTICEABLE mass that now made me need a bigger size in shirts. I went to the doctor, fearing cancer (of course) and was diagnosed several times w/a Lipoma. A very common pocket of fat that just magically grows for no reason other than to make you unhappy. They are as common as boils and need surgical out-patient removal. Mine (IMO) is huge. It sits on my back and drives me crazy. I always feel like everyone is staring at it, although most people say they didn't notice until I mentioned it. It's so big that in past relationships since it's arrival, I've had a 'disclosure moment'.
This year, I finally made the leap and got health insurance. Besides being at a high risk for cancer and needing a mammogram, this Lipoma was my motivator, as it will be removed this year!!!!!!!! But before I removed it, I had to do something with it. I never ask photographers to edit my face, brush away blemishes and half the time, i only have on eyeliner. But this thing on my back is always what I ask to be removed from photos. Only one photographer told me to embrace it and refused to crop/edit/photoshop it away. And it was her voice I heard when I decided to do this. So, I did it. Intently and with purpose. This is certainly not my only flaw....but it's a major THING in my life. It's something I'm always conscious of, often thinking about, have feared, scratched, stared at excessively, cried about....it's something that I thought took away from me. Of course this photo won't show it how I see it.....but it shows it. It shows enough. And I showed IT, that I've had enough.
Fuck Fear. Fuck being disappointed that my body turned against me for no reason. Fuck being mad about my luck. Fuck being scared to get a diagnosis. Fuck doctors squeezing it and charging 200 to tell me I need another 1000 dollars to not see it again. Fuck spider bites. Fuck imagination. Fuck dirty stages. Fuck faking it. Fuck pretending it's not really there. Fuck photoshopping it out of my pictures while it stays in my life. Fuck my facade.
FUCK MY MIRROR FAKING!
I embraced me.
Allow me to introduce what is left of Butter. If you were looking for her, all her memories are wrapped up in this pocket o'fat and will be removed within the next 6 months. I am flawed. Heavily. Beautifully. And I don't dance no more; all I do is spit !
And special thanks to Cheria Caldwell/Owtspoken Photography for planting this seed years ago by refusing to edit it out. Also, thank you to Choo Lynn/ANKH Photography for a fun, flirty shoot in my truth. <3 #LegendaryLadies #Women #BlackGirlsROCK
This is huge. May not seem like anything but a long, ignorable post (and that's why it's over here.....baby steps), but for me, this is another step towards the Light. <3 #EmbraceFlaws
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