Letter to Junk Food April 30, 2008

Like most of America, I had a New Year’s Resolution. Well, I’ve this NYR for about four years now. 2008 will be the year that it happens, and so far I haven’t been on a totally horrible weight loss journey. (Weight Loss is my NYR. Among other things, LOL.) I actually have a weight loss blog on VOX: www.divatemple.vox.com. I posted this letter to Junk Food, or, J.F., there, and I wanted to post it here too….for some reason….LOL Here goes.

Dear J.F.,

I must apologize. I have been taking advantage of you for so long – and blaming you for my problems. You know, my severely expanding waistline, my rapid depletion of breath and energy, my thereisnojoyinshoppinganymore-itis… among other things. After a long, hard day I’d race into the grocery store for no other reason than to find you – in any form I felt like having you. I’d wait for minutes in a fast food line just for the satisfaction you bring to my mouth, my tastebuds, my soul.

I’ve tried to avoid you, but my efforts to avoid you haven’t been successful. You’re simply unavoidable, and I can’t take it anymore. Why is it that everywhere I look, there you are, looking back at me? I can’t even drive without seeing the bright flashing lights of one of your numerous fast food chains. In the grocery store, I can’t even check my items out without you gawking at me. I might have a cart filled with healthy choices, but once I lay eyes on you, I’m immediately reminded of all the day’s problems, all my life’s current stresses, and all of a sudden I’m telling myself how much I need you. All of a sudden I’m back to browsing down the aisles. This time, I’m looking for something to calm me down, relieve my stress, and make me happy – and I usually find it in you.

I’ve been treating you like you’re some kind of therapist. You’re not a shrink, J.F., you’re junk food. You’re sugary, fattening, calorie infested, greasy….and oddly and unfortunately, great tasting. You’re not a form of therapy. You’re not a substitution for loving relationships, a remedy for a hard day at work, and you’re not a solution for all of life’s problems. But that’s how myself and others have been using you, either now, or at some point in our lives.

Maybe it’s my lack of decent self-control and will power. My lack of ‘doing the right thing’ maturity. In a perfect world, I’d be able to handle you. But this is no perfect world, and I’m no perfect woman – so I know it’s me with the problem. I just can’t seem to control myself when I’m around you and it’s crazy!

What I should have done is taken more time to get to know you and see what you’re really worth. If I had taken the time to notice your nutritional value – or even care for that matter – then perhaps I wouldn’t have been so committed to this dysfunctional relationship. I’ve been looking for love and peace in all the wrong places, and I don’t think you were put on this earth to live up to my high standards. You were created to be a pleasant, tasty treat, for every once in a while. But I’ve used you, abused you, cursed you, and ignored you. You don’t deserve all that negativity and stress. You’re too good for that.

I mean, it’s not like you can talk, but you still manage to tell people what they’re getting into as soon as they pick you up. But like me; most people who abuse you only want you for one reason – to relive themselves of stress. We’ve all failed to take a deeper look and see what’s really inside you, and what you really have to offer.

J.F., I am seeking to find healing for the disorders listed in the beginning, and there’s only one thing holding me back. J.F., that thing is you. The sad part is, you don’t even know it. You can’t put up a fight when I pick you up off the shelf. You can’t jump out of the french-fry pit, land on the windshield of my Saturn and start screaming, “Please! Don’t do this to yourself!” A big juicy cheeseburger doesn’t remind me how much fat and how many calories are contained in each bite. Sodas don’t remind me how many pounds I’ll save myself from if I avoid them altogether (any guesses on what I’m eating right now?).

My point is, I’ve been mistreating you, and overworking you. Hell, I’m practically putting you through slavery! You should be charging me for all the services you provide for me. I work my anger out on you, my frustration, my stress, even my happiness. Got a raise at work? Let me treat myself to a box of HoHo’s or something…….

J.F., I’m sorry for all of that. This whole time I’ve hated you for what you have done/have been doing to my body and I’m sorry. You’re not my enemy; I am my own enemy. I am overweight, unhealthy and can’t fit into my clothes because of me – not you. Yes; it’s me, not you.

So J.F., I wish I could say this is the end of our friendship; but knowing me and my uncontrollable taste buds, will and emotions……and knowing you and your irresistible (and therapeutic) taste……..I’m just going to keep hope alive and pray for the best. I’m glad I’ve had this opportunity to get this down in writing, though.

J.F., you and I can have an amazing relationship; one that is stable and healthy at that. But if it seems like I am distancing myself, it’s because I am! I need to, in order to make the relationship between us better. Please, don’t get offended, but understand that if our relationship doesn’t get better; it might just cost me my life.

Best Wishes,
Tina

Taking Care Of Business!!! April 25, 2008

I’m just writing in to say that I am sooo proud of myself! I just finished chapter five of my debut novel….currently untitled, LOL! I’m one of those people who will title the novel after it’s done. I just write, and write and write until I’m done. When I used to be a dance teacher, I’d choreograph the very beginning after all the rest of the song was done. There’s something about working backwards, LOL…

I’m not even sure I know where my whole story is going. I have four main characters – each with their own heavy share of drama. It’s going to be a challenge getting them out of their individual predicaments, but I have enough craziness and creativity to figure something out for each of my lovely characters.

I also want to start adding to some of the stories I have posted on here already. Who knows? If I continue to add to these stories, I might actually end up with a nice book of short stories. I may even have a whole novel depending on how dedicated I am to the story!

But I’ve come to realize that I cannot get by on passion alone. Passion is not going to write my books. Because of my passion, I will write the book. But I have to put forth the effort and write! I’m tired of talking about it…it’s time to truly be about it. I am so tired of waking up every morning and going to a job I’m not in love with. Seems to me to be a waste of forty hours a week. Why not take those hours and dedicate them to something far more productive?

I know it will be a while before I’ll be able to make a complete and total living out of writing, but I also believe God that it will happen – because it’s a passion God placed within me – and I have no passion to do anything else but this!

I don’t think God’s going to sit back and watch me fail. He’s going to lead me, guide me, direct me and bless me along the way. Help me with this journey God. Help me to believe in my calling and want it for the reasons you want me to want it. Help me to embrace it and love it more than I already think I do, in Jesus name!

If I get to the point where all I have to do is work a day job part time, then I’m happy, because I’d at least be making some kind of a living out of writing! Part time will turn into no time, and eventually, I’ll be writing FULL TIME! And that’s my ultimate goal.

But nothing will happen if I allow myself to be and stay discouraged. Life comes at you hard. Sometimes you don’t want to do anything but sit back, shut up, and accept the status quo. But God’s given me a higher calling than that. God’s given me something better to do than to accept mediocrity. The beginning of me understanding what I’ve been placed on this earth to do began when I realized and understood that I’m not supposed to be normal. What Christian is supposed to be normal? We’ve all been called to be peculiar. But I had a really strange feeling I was called to be a tad more peculiar than others.

None of us are called to be mediocre. I’m sure God doesn’t appreciate anything halfway done, or half heartedly done. I had a feeling that what I was called to do would take me out of all levels of my comfort zone and push me into some things that I’m afraid to be apart of. Things that are mere dreams….no where close to reality….but are supposed to be.

Maybe I’m making sense, maybe I’m not. But I know what I’ve been called to do and I can’t really sit around and ignore it too much longer. I can’t treat it like it’s some kind of pipe dream. I don’t have anything else going for me and I certainly don’t feel I have a future in sign selling. I’d rather jump into the Bay from off the Bay Bridge!

I mean, there’s nothing wrong with my day job. It’s only a waste of my life because it’s just not for me! Since I know what is for me…I’m going to keep writing until I can scratch project number one off my list and start working on getting an agent and getting my book published.

It just makes sense!

Changes April 15, 2008

“Regina, I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to you. Thank you so much for watching the kids for me. I really have to go to this job interview.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. As long as you have my money. I don’t babysit Bébé kids for free.” Candace Parsons knew better than to take her best friend and neighbor, Regina Baker seriously.

“Girl, I don’t even have the job yet. It’s going to be kind of hard to give you any money now,” Candace said, laughing. “Plus, I don’t even have my lights turned back on yet. Whatever money I make first will have to go into my ‘let there be light’ fund!”

“So Candace,” Regina said, with her arms folded, and her head cocked to the side. “Are you trying to tell me you won’t have my money?”

“Regina, girl, stop messing with me. I will pay you back a thousand times when I can afford to.”

Regina made a sad face and said, “I guess I’ll never see my money, then.”

She and Candace laughed and then Candace said, “You just make sure my kids are taken care of. Misha was sick last night with a headache, but she woke up feeling a lot better this morning. Nicholas is in a funk because his daddy was supposed to pick him up last night. But you know how baby daddy’s are, right?”

“Rude, inconsiderate, untrustworthy punks.”

“Yeah. Pretty much. At least the two in my life, anyway.”

“Oh, and mine too,” Regina said, shaking her head. “How long has it been since either of your BD’s seen their children?”

“Well as you know, Terrence is a deadbeat. He calls and makes promises and never follows through. That’s why Nicholas is so upset now. I told Terrence to stop making prmises he knows he won’t keep. It’s breaking Nicholas’ heart.

“Misha’s dad stops by almost every weekend. But he ain’t dropped me no money in a while, and now I know why. Ran into his mamma last month at the Easter Day service. She said Ronald was laid off and was having a hard time finding work. He was making pretty good money as an IT agent. But his mother said that the little community bank he was working for couldn’t afford to keep him around.”

Regina shook her head and said, “That’s the story of our lives, girl. I’m sorry to hear that. Ronald’s a half decent guy. Except that he’s like, fifty five years old, and you’re like, half of that!”

They laughed and joked about Candace’s taste for ridiculously older men, and Regina continued, “I’m just lucky that my sister owns that salon in Largo. Granted, I hate having to work in Maryland when my kids are in school right here in DC. Quincy’s always getting into trouble, and you know how these bus schedules run! And I know I just shampoo and sweep up hair for a living, but a job is a job when you need to eat, right?”

“Well you’re even luckier that your sister pays you as much as she pays you to do it. Mr. Bennett only pays me $7.50 an hour at the community center. Which reminds me. I’m going to be late for my job interview, so I need to run. Thanks again for watching the kids for me!”

“No problem, girl. Anytime.”

Candace raced across the street to the bus stop, and she was right on time. She was surprised to see that the bus came earlier than its scheduled time, and she prayed for a smooth ride downtown; where she had an interview with an accounting firm. She noticed in the Post that they were hiring a receptionist. It’s what she currently did, except this firm was going to be paying her $16.50 an hour to do it. She desperately needed that opportunity. She was dressed to impress and in her mind, she was rehearsing answers to potential questions.

“Hello, ma’am. Is this seat taken?”

Candace jumped when she heard the voice of a man to her left. She let out a small sigh and realized that the man was actually trying to pick her up. It was an early Saturday morning and not too many people were on the bus. There were plenty of available seats for him to have chosen from.

Candace didn’t have time to play games with this man, nor was she in the mood. Her mind was focused on one thing; that job interview. Besides, the man of her dreams would be driving a Mercedes, not riding the Metro bus picking up random chicks.

She plopped her purse down into the empty seat and said, “Yes. This seat is taken.”

She rolled her eyes, looked away from him and continued to rehearse the dialogue between herself and the interviewer. Twenty minutes later she was out of her Southeast neighborhood and in Downtown, DC.

When she reached her stop she ran off the bus; and she didn’t stop running until she reached the glass double doors that lead to the office of Vincent P. McKinley, CPA. She was interviewing with Mr. McKinley himself, and all of a sudden she was a nervous wreck. Consumed with doubt, Candace backed away from the door that she had so confidently approached.

I can’t do this she thought. $16.50 is a lot of money. He’s going to tell me I’m not qualified enough. He’s going to laugh in my face!

Candace looked at her watch. It was almost 10:15 in the morning, and her interview was scheduled for 10:45. She had thirty minutes to pull herself together. She had thirty minutes for her confidence to return. She had thirty minutes to convince herself that she was capable of doing this job.

She said a prayer to bring her pre-interview jitters to a halt. God needed to help her, because her trying to convince herself wasn’t working. No sooner than she said amen, Candace had peace that everything would work out for good – whether she got the job or not. She knew God had her back, and she was ready to tackle the interview with more vengeance than before. She opened those glass double doors and told the security guard at the desk that she was in to see Mr. McKinley.

After receiving her visitor pass, Candace headed down the hall to the elevators. She had never been in such a beautiful building. She wanted to stand in the lobby forever and gawk at the gorgeous works of art lining the beautifully painted walls, and the classic design and layout of the furniture; but she had work to do. She stepped inside an elevator, and on the ride up to the seventh floor she said one more prayer: that God would do all the talking.

Secrets Don’t Live Behind Closed Doors Forever… March 20, 2008

Karen Michaels was floating on cloud nine. It was a long day at work, and though traffic was crazy, she was relieved to be driving down 395 to her home in Alexandria, Virginia.

Despite the arrival of Spring, it was still quite cool outside; but that didn’t stop Karen from letting the top down on her red Mustang convertible.

Indeed, work was crazy, but it was well worth it. She was a Financial Advisor for Smith & Bearns; a mid-sized financial management firm based in Washington, DC. She dealt with clients who had far more money than they knew what to do with. She landed clients who weren’t afraid to pay a hefty price for some sound financial advice. Her newest client was a ‘new millionaire;’ having gained an inheritance from his late grandfather.

Many of her clients gave the word ‘bothersome’ new meaning, but Karen knew that people were sensitive about their money; always worried whether the right decisions were being made. She loved her career and she was a great asset to the company, and because of her, Smith & Bearns was leaving mid-size status behind. They were starting to become a force in the financial world, and today, Karen’s management team saw fit to give her a raise – a twenty percent raise at that!

Karen was with Smith & Bearns from the beginning. Howard Smith and Jeffrey Bearns were both close friends of her father. Karen started out as an Accountant for Bank of America, but when her father’s friends approached her about becoming a Financial Advisor for them, she jumped at the opportunity. She had always wanted to help people make wise decisions with their money, so being a Financial Advisor gave her a chance to do something she knew she’d love.

Karen exited off 395 and once she got on the main road she pumped the accelerator a little harder. There was still a lot of traffic, but at least she could feel a bit more wind in her face this time. She was indeed excited about her raise, but she couldn’t fight the sense of worry that kept creeping up on her. She couldn’t fight the sense of guilt that was beginning to rain on her parade.

She couldn’t fight the voice within her, telling her that she didn’t deserve that raise. Well, she deserved a raise; but a twenty percent raise was a bit much from a company that still had a lot of growing to do. Karen’s conscious was guilty because she knew the real reason why she received that raise.

But she kept rationalizing, justifying and making excuses for the truth. I deserve it, she said to herself. I work hard in and outside of the office. And that was true. She worked hard in the office by being dedicated to her clients, and providing them with the best options for financial management. Even her most difficult clients couldn’t be happier.

Her co-workers loved her as well. They respected her wisdom and expertise. She was the go-to person that everyone wanted to be like when they ‘grew-up.’

But would they still respect her if they found out the truth? What if they knew that the work she did outside the office had very little to do with financial management? What if they knew that the work she did outside the office was catering to her bosses needs; sexually?

Working…..for other people March 19, 2008

Why I just don’t like working…….for other people

    *I’m not trying to ‘boss-bash’ or anything. Just observing the reasons why I know I was called to be more than an employee forever……

    So here goes:

1. The infamous ‘schedule’. I appreciate a full time gig, but I don’t want my day to be controlled by someone who’s barely giving me enough money to live off of. Why must I be forced to wake up at the crack of dawn and pressured into working overtime?
2. Managers in the past have restricted the days/times that employees can have to make doctor’s appointments! That really got on my nerves! Not to mention, managers in the past have denied many a vacation time. So….the rest of my family is going out of town for Thanksgiving/Thanksgiving Friday; so I’m stuck here eating turkey alone while they’re off having BIG fun? Or, they have to cancel the trip altogether because I can’t go? Unfair.
3. If your company doesn’t have the funds, they can’t hire more staff. That means more work for you – at the same lame salary! Now, if you go the entrepreneurship route, this may ring true for you as well. But wouldn’t you rather be the business owner? You’ll be doing what you love, and delegating responsibilities to the little bit of staff you do have. Or would you rather be the chump working his butt off for…a minimum wage paycheck?
4. Speaking of money; making more of it depends totally on whether your boss thinks you deserve it. And he could care less that you have no heat or electricity. She doesn’t care that you’re a pink slip away from losing your home. If for whatever reason you haven’t met his or her standards, you’re not getting ANYTHING! I hate that my income is controlled by people who could care less about my financial situation.
5. I’m forced to do what people tell me to do. I just, plain, don’t want to be told what to do anymore.
6. I’M BORED OUT OF MY MOTHERPLUCKING MIND! And I can’t stand it anymore! Answering phones, plastering on smiles, pretending I care. Go home, go to sleep, do it all over again. It’s getting old. It would be different if this were like, Act I, Scene II in a play……but this is real life and I’m bored as hell.
7. What the heck am I supposed to do with a 30 minute lunch break? I spend most of my day at work, and all you give me for a break is half an hour? And what about the ‘alleged’ 15 minute breaks I’m supposed to get on the side? At Bank of America, those breaks were unheard of. At The Washington Savings Bank, I got in trouble for taking my 15 minute break; which was promised to me in my employee handbook! Where I am now, at least I finally get an hour – but sometimes I can’t even enjoy it without being interrupted and it sucks. I don’t want to eat lunch outside in my car just so people will leave me alone; but I’m not above it. What’s the point of being off the clock if you’re still gonna end up working?
8. Give me a break with dressing up already! At my last job, I swore I dressed up enough, but they practically wanted me in a freakin’ nun habit! I can’t stand it. That was the worst job I have ever had (for reasons beyond dress….I just didn’t fit in). At least where I am now, I get to be a little more comfortable.
   Psycho bosses who expect you to be psychic. “Oh, we do do such and such service….why did you just tell that customer that we didn’t?” Well, stupid, because no one ever told me we did. Guess I need to call up Ms. Cleo and get some pointers…..
9. Psycho, PMS-ing, bipolar bosses who aren’t happy unless they’re making their employers lives miserable. Enough said.
10. Lazy, irritating co-workers. Enough said.
11. Tomorrow is NEVER promised. Layoffs, you’re not meeting/exceeding expectations, you hate it so much that you quit before even having something lined up…..crap happens. When you’re running the show, you can hope for brighter days.
12. Getting written up or reprimanded for stupid stuff. I mean, stupid stuff! No more petty managers……..
13. No more referrals, sales goals, cold calls, telemarketing and contacting clients, seeing if they’re still interested in making the sale…..This one is personal. I hate it. I keep finding myself at these sales driven companies. I just want to be a freakin receptionist from now on. Maybe I’ll work at Giant as a shelf stocker…………no sales goals there. I heard Giant pays well too……..

    That’s all I can think of for now. In the middle of the night I will think of more, because I’m sure there are. But I guess there are some good things about working for other people.

1. Lots of businesses fail within the first few years. Even though there’s a risk of being laid off, most companies offer stable and permanent employment.
2. Health benefits are typically better when you’re part of a company that offers them.
3. 401K is usually offered, and matched by your company!
4. YOU get paid to go on vacation with some jobs. You might also get paid to be sick, or to take a day off.
5. Employee discounts, reward programs and incentives – even though you had to go through hell to earn the incentives!
6. Tax time is a bit less frustrating. Just hand the man your W-2 and you’re good to go.
7. Co-workers. This one is personal as well…..writing is a lonely career. I’ve really only come across a couple of really crazy co-workers. I do enjoy spending my time around people……

    But the point is, I’m willing to sacrifice the things that are good to tackle the unknown. I am willing to sacrifice a bit of the stability and do something that I may or may not end up being able to live off of. Every time I start thinking like that, God encourages me to believe that the gift and passion He’s given me for writing – will be what I ultimately do with my life; and will be used for His glory.

    But point blank, I can’t stand working for other people. I can’t do it anymore. I’m not lazy, I’m not disrespectful. Once I know what I’m doing on a job, I excel. I go above and beyond. But sometimes, that’s not even good enough….or you’re not going above and beyond in all the areas you should be going above and beyond in……and it’s frustrating. Some people have a servant’s heart and can run around baby sitting their manager’s all day long. Some people have what it takes to deal with bothersome micro managers who are shouting requests one right after the other; not even giving you a chance to pee if you have to. Some people can give of themselves so much; to venture out on their own is unheard of to them. There’s nothing wrong with being any of those people. But when you know it’s not you, you have to move on.

Untitled… March 18, 2008

*This ain’t much…doesn’t even have a title…I just felt like writing tonight. I’m going to add to it soon; so I guess you can say this is chapter one, lol.

“You’re lying, Brandon. I know you are. Where were you last night?”

As if he’d tell me the truth. My husband thought everyone was born yesterday but him. He’d tell me anything and think I was dumb enough to believe it.

Brandon said, “Jenifer, you don’t need to worry about where I’ve been. Go get the kids ready for school. I’m going to bed.”

“No, you’re not going anywhere. You have the nerve to walk in this house at almost 7:00 in the morning! You probably thought you could just crawl right in the bed with me and I wouldn’t notice a thing! Well I noticed you were gone, all right, and I saw the way you tiptoed in here. You had better tell me where you were.”

“Tell you? I’m sure you already know where I was.”

Sadly enough, I did. He was over that tramp’s house. The tramp who was doing her part to tear my marriage to shreds. But for some sick reason, I needed to hear that from him. I needed to hear it for myself.

I asked him, “You were with her weren’t you?”

He didn’t answer. He turned his back on me and headed down the hall toward our bedroom.

I wanted to run in there after him, tell him I was sorry for questioning him. Beg him to stop seeing that….that tramp.

I wanted so much for our marriage to be what it started out to be; from the day our Pastor announced us Mr. and Mrs. Brandon Stone almost ten years ago. We were in love, of course, but more than that; we were best friends. Somewhere along the way, though, we had become enemies, and I never even saw it coming.

It could’ve been the seventy-five pounds I’ve gained since our wedding day. But not every woman stays a size five after having three kids.

Perhaps it was the pressure I put on Brandon to get back into the church. You know when you meet a man, and you tell him you’re saved, and all of a sudden, he’s ‘saved’ too? Such was the case with my husband. He got what he wanted – me. And he wasn’t even happy with it.

But then again, it could’ve been the bitterness that arose when Brandon was laid off his job. He’d become so depressed, and nothing I said was encouraging enough to get him back on his feet. So since I had a degree, he made me re-enter the workforce; while he stayed at home with our three girls and played ‘house-husband.’ It wouldn’t have been so bad if he were actually watching the girls. Our seven year old, Alicia, was starting to suffer in school – academically and behaviorally. Two of her teachers called me at work to inform me of that. Our four year old, Anya, was nearly kicked out of preschool, because my husband was too lazy to drive her to school each morning. And I’m still waiting to get to Home Depot. I need to buy some paint to cover up the masterpiece that our two year old, Adrienne, drew all over the living room wall. Not to mention that dinner was never cooked, laundry was never done, and our home was forever in shambles.

I’d realized that Brandon’s decision to stay home with the girls had absolutely nothing to do with economics. It had everything to do with him wanting to sit at home on his ass all day; and play around with his tramp while we was at it.

I started to walk into the girls’ room to wake them up and get them ready for school, and I stopped. I had to re-adjust my attitude. I didn’t need to take my frustrations out on my babies. This was my husband’s job; getting the girls ready in the morning. Now he’s asleep after having had a good ‘ole time sleeping around all night with that woman.

It was 7:20. I had to get the girls up, washed, fed and out the door by 8:30 and I had to be at work by 10:00. Luckily I had found a carpool for Anya. I had to say my prayers for Adrienne, but that wasn’t enough. I had decided that I would take her to the daycare facility at my job, just for that day. It would’ve given my husband a chance to regroup after a long, adulterous evening. I even thought about not telling him that I was taking her; hoping he’d freak out and think he’d lost her. The thought of revenge perked me up immediately, and that’s exactly what I did.

I headed down the hallway of our apartment towards the girls’ bedroom. I started to turn the doorknob, but shrieked when I saw a roach crawling up the door.

“Damn,” I said to myself. I took my slipper off; trying to kill the ginormous roach while trying not to really look at it at the same time. I woke up my girls, alright.

Anya opened the door and said, “Mom, what’s going on out here?” Her voice was so cute and squeaky, and her little face showed so much concern. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mommy was killing a roach, sweetie.”

Alicia walked out next and asked the same question as her sister.

“Mommy was killing a roach, Alicia,” Anya answered.

“Ew,” Alicia said, squirming as if the roach were crawling up her back.

She continued, “I’m getting ready for school, Mommy. Do you want me to wake up Adrienne?”

“No baby, I’ll wake her up, as soon as I get up this…icky dead bug. You two go get ready for school.”

This is such a shack, I thought to myself. When I wanted to buy a house, Brandon was dead set against it.

“You ain’t gonna be the one maintaining it, Jenifer,” he’d said, meaning he’d be the only one paying bills, fixing broken appliances, mowing the lawn and shoveling the snow. What he didn’t want to admit was that he had neither the funds nor the credit to be able to buy a house anywhere. I, however, had the money and the credit. And not only did I bring home the bacon; I fried it up and served it too. I thought he would’ve jumped at the chance to buy a home; since he no longer carried any financial responsibilities. But Brandon’s manly pride still wouldn’t allow us to move from this shack. He couldn’t possibly have his wife paying the bills! Though he had no problem sending me off to work in the morning. He had no problem spending my money. Instead of owning a nice home that gave us and our girls room to move around, we had to settle for a shabby two bedroom apartment in Southeast, DC.

I peeked in the bathroom and smiled as I saw Alicia helping her baby sister take a bath.

Now that’s love, I thought. If only my husband can see this, so he can get a good idea of what that looks like.

“Hurry up in there ladies, you still have to eat breakfast.”

“Okay, mom,” they said together, and I smiled. I loved my babies.

I went back to the girls’ room to wake up Adrienne, and boy was she not looking forward to the morning! I didn’t bother washing her up. It would have been far more work than I was patient enough to deal with. I dressed her and carried her into the bathroom – and she was still crying. I took a warm cloth and gently washed her face, and it seemed to soothe her, and quiet her down.

I didn’t have the time or energy to go all out for breakfast, so I put some cereal and milk in bowls for the girls. Before I knew it, Alicia was on her way to the bus stop, and Anya’s carpool buddy had arrived. I put Adrienne in her playpen and hopped in the shower.

In the shower I reviewed all the reasons my life was a mess. Everything would be going great if it weren’t for my crazy, disrespectful, lazy, cheating husband. And that tramp. I had normally never used that word; but I refused to do her the honor of using her name. Besides, I could’ve been calling her far worse things, like: bitch, hoar, skank, hooker….I had considered ‘tramp’ to be the lesser evil. I was doing her a favor.

I knew exactly who she was; this woman who I had caught in my bed with my husband with my children in the next room. It was a Wednesday evening. I was at church for Bible Study, and had arrived home around 9:00 in the evening. All I wanted to do was take a hot shower and snuggle up under the covers. But my plans were ruined when I walked in my bedroom. I saw my husband on his knees; giving that heifer what looked like the most pleasure she’d had in her life.

I’d screamed. I don’t know where it came from, or what made me do it, but I’d screamed. I had screamed so loud that my neighbors came knocking at the door trying to check up on things. I’d started throwing random things at the both of them. No doubt I was crying my eyes out. I had reached for his suitcase and started throwing his stuff in it.

“You wanna be with her?” I said, “Then you can move in with her.”

I had never been more hurt before in my life, but what hurt me more was the face of the woman who was staring back at me. She had a gorgeous, caramel complexion. My complexion was caramel and at times, in desperate need of dermatological therapy. This woman had beautiful hazel eyes and curly, shiny, wild brown hair that always seemed to look right – no matter how wild it was. I had plain brown eyes and dreads that hadn’t been professionally maintained in four months. When I caught them, her hazel eyes looked at me at first with shock, but then, with relief. It was as if the woman were saying, “Yeah, I got your man…..let’s stand side by side in the mirror and tell me if you can’t see why.”

I would’ve seen why, indeed. Once upon a time, I used to be her size. But I knew for a fact that this woman had kids of her own. How did she manage to stay so thin after giving birth twice? I was a lot larger than her, but my ‘assets’ left far more to be desired. She had everything an average man would find appealing. Me? At a size 16, I had to settle for men with an acquired taste for “big girls.” I started out looking like the woman who was looking at me, condescending me, demeaning me, hurting me, and killing me with her hazel eyes.

My husband didn’t want me the way I was. Instead, he wanted the woman looking back at me. He wanted my sister.

 

What white people like? March 14, 2008

I came across a blog entitled stuff that white people like, or something like that. One of the things white people supposedly like are black friends. One of the ‘reasons’? Because we can help them understand gang symbols and the beauty supply shop. I’m black. I know nothing about gang symbols. And even white folk visit the beauty supply store from time to time. I take offense to that statement. If you feel that as a black person those are the only things I’m good for – then I don’t want to be your friend. That fired me up to the point that I didn’t want to even read anymore of what the writer of that blog had to say. I don’t know who the blog owner is or what they look like or anything like that. Perhaps they didn’t mean to sound…..racist or stereotypical as if all black people were born knowing gang symbols. And honestly, they can say whatever they want to say -it’s their blog, their perception, their life! Perhaps the blog owner is a black person making fun of what they feel white people like…..but either way; I didn’t like that comment. And I do have a right to comment…..

The Intro….. March 13, 2008

    Hello, all! Nice to finally stop hearing about WordPress and start actually blogging on WordPress! This is my blog. I have several, but this one is dedicated to my love for creative writing. Life is a story; and as a writer I am realizing that there’s no way on earth I can ever be at a lost for a topic. Stories are EVERYWHERE! From your morning newspaper, to an afternoon talk show to the evening news. Sometimes you can’t take a jog around the ‘hood without seeing or hearing your neighbor doing or saying something that will get your creative juices working. Life is a story.

    In addition to random ramblings about random thoughts and whatnot, this blog is a tool to get me practicing the art of storytelling. An aspiring novelist, playwright, screenwriter and freelance writer; I need to start putting some of my work out in the open. Get an idea of what the world actually thinks about my writing. It’s a scary dream; mine is. Especially since not everyone with goals like mine actually move toward fulfilling them on such a large scale. But that’s what I want.

    If I create a YouTube or Podcast drama for fun, it will indeed be a cool thing to do. But eventually, I will want more. That YouTube or Podcast drama will be the beginning, but in the end, I want my drama on TV! I want my drama on the silver screen! I want to make money, LOL! I’ll do what I do because writing is what I love, writing is my passion. But my ultimate goal is to make writing my ONLY source of income. I hate these day jobs that leave me watching the clock for eight hours! 5:30 comes and I am out the door; not a second wasted!

    I long to wake up every single morning and do what I love – not just do what I tolerate simply to pay the bills. Dreams like this don’t come true for everybody; but I serve an AMAZING God, and with Him, ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE!

    But that’s it for now. I’m praying for the confidence I need in order to succeed in this field. The entertainment industry is a harsh and unpredictable one at times, lol. I’m praying for the strength that it takes to believe in myself – even if the odds seem to be against me. I’m new, of course, to the entertainment/writing world. Who would want to give little old me a chance? I’m believing that God will take control.

    Naysayers are inevitable, lol. I don’t have any yet; but no one really knows this is my REAL goal. I may have hinted around about it, but no one knows just how serious I am about fulfilling this dream. I’m struggling with having faith right now – so hearing people tell me it’s impossible isn’t the best thing for me. But on the other hand, perhaps it will be a good thing. Perhaps it will give me what I need to push further, believe harder, and dedicate myself to the task even more.

    I sit down to write, and I get stuck. Why? Well, since life is a story, I’ve always got something to write about, LOL. But all I can think about is my fear that every page I write will be written in vain. No one’s ever going to read it! If they read it, they’ll hate it, it’ll get horrible reviews and all other kinds of negative stuff. I don’t have time for all that! But I don’t know any other way to get rid of those thoughts than to remember that my passion and gift for writing comes from God. I have to trust that His word is true: he doesn’t plan on failing me; he has only plans of success for me.