The Song Dynasty

Hahaha

2008-02-18T16:36:00.001-04:00

I've moved the blog again. Come find me.

Haha

2008-02-14T04:11:00.000-04:00

I can’t take this feeling in my heart anymore
Time for me to step and make my way through the door
If by chance I see you on this road once again
I can guaranty you that I will not pretend

Ok, so what’s new is it really the old pursued?
- Catdiesel [K-OS]

She is stealing my soul

2008-02-12T13:50:00.000-04:00

Via Solipsism, aka This Is Not a Blog
PS: Digging that new name there

We've all heard the term "gratuitous sex." Lately, I feel like it's the only kind I've been having - and to be perfectly honest, that's the way I want it. I know that I've been heeing and hawing about leaving the safe and satisfying realm of "making love," but times they are a' changin. The past several years have been full of back-to-back serious relationships, and I've realized that I'm not about to fall in love with anyone, so I might as well stop wasting my time finding someone to make love to.

For a split second, I seriously considered celibacy. I thought about self-respect and the daunting task of putting myself out in the dating world again. I thought about my self-image and the effort to make a relationship successful. And then I realized I was putting too much thought into it. Dating doesn't have to be a stepping stone to anything serious, and sex can be fun without overcomplicating my life. Why make dating and sex such loaded issues? Why not dive into life and see what I come up with?

*
- Thank goodness you realized upon meeting me that I'm a work-in-progress. It's impossible to limit my transitions from who I am today to who I am tomorrow, and you respect that and you respect me. For that, I will always be grateful.

Well. Get out of my head, you.

Soupa-Bowl

2008-02-04T00:13:00.000-04:00

Wow. Beautiful game. Even my eyes were glued to the screen. It helped to be caught in between hoping for the Patriots to win -- Wife had a bet on them that involved me getting a new pair of shoes -- and for the Giants, because that.. hope, and hype, and NY alliance... sucked me in since the last/first game I watched. Intense. Go giants.

And..

Racist?

Am I being overly sensitive?

*

[Addon]
It's not the game that did me in. It's the drive home that made me elated to be a New Yorker. People standing outside. Shouting out the window and everyone honking horns at each other. It brings strangers together and shit, it just feels good to cheer like an animal in the streets. Brooklyn had many friends tonight

Happy Superbowl.

Sex

2008-02-01T03:14:00.001-04:00

let me speak candidly.

fuck if it actually
factors in past hurts and
tactlessly lasts with me...
Surely the faster we master
the act of compassion we'd answer
these questions more truthfully

Clueless to how the
emotions can rule us, we
do this to others at first opportunity
trying to spin this "love" thing into
monsters we
constantly
try to apply that shit logically

dodging the hurt that
converses nostalgically
verbal abuse makes its presence a noun
solid, it lessens the strength of obsession when
honesty festers and
messes around

"love" is an action, a view and a saying
so I can relate to why you say "expression" -- but

Love

is a fraction of our state of being
and often mistaken for fleeting when bound

maybe we're taking the wrong definition, for
Passion
devours the rest of our whole
one cannot truly exist without other so
lovers confuse the two conflicting roles

you say that the broken can always be mended but
how many women conform to their men?
how many of em distorted their morals and
suddenly found themselves shorted again?

love makes you do
stupid things just to
save
or remain
or be needed
or be validated

but writers will know when
the moment is over
and give it a name
much less complicated

Venturing Out Into the... Well, the Expected

2008-01-31T20:53:00.000-04:00

I've had my share of gay rumors throughout my life; I was first made aware of them around 15 or so. I dismissed them with a grin, taking it as a compliment, explaining the truth. I went to an extremely liberal art high school in the city, and my best friend at the time was a declared bisexual white girl that flitted easily between cliques and groups. We were seen together everywhere, and it was just assumed that she and I were messing around.

Fueling the rumors was the assumption that Dynasty was a great big ho. My clothes were form fitting, yes. I will admit that I wasn't as concerned with style then as I am now, so all it really was was tight jeans and hugging tanktops. I had a body to show off, but here's what sealed the deal: I had -- nay, have -- a walk that could put a seasoned hooker to shame. My height complex demanded that I wore heels every day, and my swagger demanded that I wore them slow. My hips have a beat of their own, and it brought repetition to my name in their mouths. I learned to shrug it off quick, so I floated through the halls decidedly ignorant to what could have been said. Things always found their way back to me, though.

As it turns out, they were confused. Here is this Great Big Ho, look... but why isn't she talking to any of the dudes? She always hangs around other chicks, and gay people. And her best friend is that lesbian girl.

OHHHHHhhhh.

That was easily explained. I was in a long-term relationship at the time with a guy who didn't go to my school. There was a 4-year age difference, and I wasn't comfortable with mixing crowds then in general anyway. People didn't know he existed unless I spoke about him, and I deflected all advances sent my way with a respectful, "I have a boyfriend, but thank you." I'd hang out with a few of them, occasionally flirt back; perhaps boys in general were shyer at that age, because I didn't get that many offers. Then again, almost everyone I ever befriended, male and female alike, first judged me to be a huge bitch. A few have told me that they were surprised I was such a dork; I had initially intimidated them and they would never have guessed that I'd buckle into a conversation. Maybe they just weren't aggressive. It doesn't matter.

I didn't know my friend was gay until after I befriended her. Didn't change a thing.

And, what the fuck. If you go to an art school, you're bound to come across some kick ass gay people. Doesn't make a difference to me either way. The people I hung out with just happened to erect oppositely.

Not to say that I didn't speak with ANY of the fellas there... I might have had a mild affair (which I managed to keep very discreet); I wasn't loyal to my boyfriend throughout the entire 4 years of high school, no. But, I would never bring shit into the place I slept. Having affairs with people in such an immediate community is asking for trouble. You only do shit like that if you want to get caught, and I didn't. Throughout all of my high school career, I must have verbally spoken with a heaping handful of males within those walls.

On top of that, I've always had an affinity for the female form. Before I even knew how to draw like I do now, I was breaking out sketches of nudes at the age of 10. I'd simply seen something and imitated it, eventually it became my defining style. Sexuality in the female form found itself in the hipbones I shaded in, the dip I carved into the lower back, the plush of her smirk, the glint of her eyes. I was always absorbing the shape of a woman with my gaze, appreciating the diagonals and curves that bent light.

I am an ass girl. Somehow it turned into a second nature. Perhaps it was growing up around males, perhaps I secretly am gay, but now I understand the man's plight. I check out every ass that passes by me in the street, consciously or not. I dismiss them from memory if they are subpar, I drag my eyes along their path if they catch my attention. Needless to say, my boyfriends have all appreciated this trait in me. It made looking less thrilling and secretive, but now we had a new game to play. We bonded.

As far as sexual urges went, they never really became urgent. I was blessed to be constantly surrounded by a plethora of the coveted, I was a lucky bitch. We would be passing lunch in the art office, and somehow one would convince the sex-faced wild-haired double-D dominican virgin to lift up her shirt and show us her heft. I've taken PG-21 pictures, actually, with her back in the day. There have been moments where I felt the urge to press my lips against a friend's collarbones; sometimes I'd want to take an earlobe between my teeth. I've made out with a few women, and very rarely I would get a hot throb in response to a gesture, a comment, a coy look. I've never been tempted to pursue a romantic relationship with a woman, nor have I ever flashed into fantasies of one buried between my thighs or vice versa. It just didn't occur to me. Factor in that occasionally, my gutter-girl strut will slacken into an admittedly masculine stroll (it's been pointed out to me that my swagger changes sex very often), it's easy to understand why I get assumed to be a bisexual all the time.

Shrug. Lately, my mind has been wandering. I mean, what if? Not purely for sexual purposes, obviously, but what would dating a woman be like? Could I do it? Something changed in the past half decade, and I'm not quite sure what it is. I wouldn't say that I now have thrilling urges to dig a woman out with my undoubtable oral skills (ha!), but there seems to be an acceptance within me that says, it's time. You can explore now, when you're ready. I'm leaving the window open.

My homegirl NN is in an amazing relationship with a woman she met a few years ago. They live together, they support each other, they've met each others families and they vibe together. They have their tough moments, but they are so in love. I was over there a few weekends ago, and saw two pieces of paper taped to the mirror. It said, in script and rainbow glitter, "Paula loves you." When I turned around to ask about it, NN had seen it and her face broke out into the sweetest, youngest, proudest grin. Her voice went up into a soft, raspy croon, and she was three seconds from clasping her hands to her chest and swaying. She said that they had been fighting; then she received an envelope in the mail. When she opened it up, everything was forgotten. It came with a note which contents I will not disclose, but what stuck with me was when NN said that ten years ago, she would never have imagined herself in a relationship with a woman, so happy where she is. She was straight up until she met Paula. She said, "You never say never, cuz you never know."

I Hm'ed.

I've been hit on by many women who have intrigued me to no ends. I passed because I was juggling men at the time, and I don't have it in my capacity to add new complications to the list. Should I date a woman, I'd have to dedicate a whole bunch of my focus into it. It would be a new experience, one I would absorb and learn from as much as enjoy. But now, I kind of regret having told them no. Some of them looked so sweet.

Recently, my Future Tense revealed in her blog that since she's become single:

I'm dating a few people - a woman included - and remembering that pretty faces and kicking good games don't mean that people have the skills to get me off. The woman I'm seeing, PW, is hot - but more than that, she and I can vibe with each other on so many levels. With the men, it's all about looks and personality - but not intellect. I feel like now's the time that karma's biting me in the ass. It seems to be saying, "You had a good run with so many men who loved you, nurtured your spirit and intellect, and fucked you silly - and you denied each and every one of them any real opportunity at a serious, long-term relationship. Now you get to see what the other side's like."

Ignoring -- or perhaps drawn to -- the foreshadowed warning that passage implied, I said: I've been seriously considering including women into my dating peripheral. How is that going?

She replied:
Dating women is going well. After getting over the initial am-I-really-bisexual-or-am-I-just-following-the-trend introspective inspection, I've succumbed to the old Margaret Cho addage: "I went through this whole thing. I was like, 'Am I gay? Am I straight? And I realized, I'm just slutty. Where's my parade?"

Stay tuned.

Attraction, Vanity, and Validation

2008-01-30T14:19:00.001-04:00

It's a shameful thing to admit, isn't it? Validation, our tendencies to chase after it, and that we all need it in one way or another.

Bars, clubs, lounges, corners,
Makeup, heels,
those jeans that lift your booty like THAT;
Every cleavage-enhancing top in your wardrobe,
every pair of fuck-me-pumps in your closet,
every clinging skirt that falls off of your ass
JUST so…

It’s okay. You can admit it now. You need it as much as we do. I’ll be your support group, shhhh, it’s okay.

We know how to make our curves scream. We know how to make your eyes draw. We work it because we are our own canvas, and we know how to make you – subconsciously or blatantly -- admire our art.

Where do you think our confidence comes from? Shit.

The majority of us don’t look in the mirror every morning, hands flat, elbows locked, forcefully chanting, “Yes Girl, You are Beautiful. Yes Girl, he is a FOOL for leaving you. Yes Girl, you are a Strong, Amazing Woman.” For weeks we can survive on merely giving our reflections silent nods of approval, turning to the side, cocking that hip, and admiring our figures to walk out that door completely aware of the fact that we are stunning. Our validation comes in steady waves, at least in a city like New York. The men are very open with their gazes and compliments here. They may step disrespectful more often than not, but they will let you know in one way or another that they appreciate your beauty and, in bolder cases, would like to obtain it. On a particularly good day, you will have every man passing by sizing you up in greeting. Any attractive New York City female will consider the glance-over a daily part of her routine.

I do not search the eyes of every man I pass for a sign of approval or a glance filled with lust, I honestly don’t. That kind of need for validation is glaringly obvious in the way a woman dresses, walks, and carries herself. I know that there is nothing but confidence usually emanating from my strut, my attire, and my air; I don't need to see my reflection on your face to confirm any of that. Half the time, I’m completely oblivious to the looks men give me, but my peripheral always catches a turning head or a visual undressing. I’m not stupid, I’m fly as hell. I put care into the way I look, so I rarely doubt my fire.

The validation I’m talking about is SO different from the one insecure girls seek. I’m not talking about the I-Need-Your-Penis-To-Harden-In-My-Presence-So-Ima-Play-Games-With-Your-Soul type of validation. The self-assured girl’s validation is different. Let me digress for like, two seconds, and then I’ll come right back to that.

Call me conceited, like I give a fuck. My type of pretty is not effortless. It’s not subtle, it’s not born into me, it’s not universal at the core. My type of pretty is in your face, and that’s because I pay attention to myself much more than you do. I do not have the type of attractive that will drive a man wild while I lounge in a sweatshirt and ponytail. I do not have the type of attractive that can pass off Capri pants and ballet flats. I do not own, nor will I ever be able to claim, Casual Cute. I make what I have work by knowing what doesn’t, and I apply it every day, everywhere I go.

”There is no such thing as an ugly woman, just a lazy one.
-Helena Rubenstein

Other women will be quick to say that I do it all for the attention of men. Perhaps, but get that it’s more of an added bonus, rather than a goal. I am an artist, and I am picky about the lines I create. (Son, do you not realize that the eye automatically groups like shapes and patterns together? If you have a round face, do you not see that round glasses or earrings will enhance that? It’s so subconscious, but buy you a pair of soft-edged rectangular frames and see the difference it makes. Invest in some visually vertical earrings. Do you not see that parallel laces -vs crossed- and a simple choker across your throat can make a striped shirt pop, because the eye travels all around you, and you maintain a balance with neck and foot?) I like to pay attention to the subtle things.

Ok, let me turn around and pick up where I left off. I had a couple of points to make in this post.

The street verification that keeps us steady is kind of like the confidence level, to a woman, of a man at a bar – we are only aware of its presence when there is a LACK of it, like white noise, and sudden walls of silence. People who are used to getting admired on a regular basis will suddenly realize that they haven’t gotten any looks one particular day, and suddenly feel out of place and inadequate. It’s the oddest thing. We don’t mean for it to happen, it just… kind of does.

And I know it’s not just women. My last ex had his days where his outfits were ON. POINT -- and he knew it. He’d go to work in a bravely shaded getup, his tie and his button-down the perfect pumpkin to his fitted pinstripe dress pants, hips narrow and shoulders all broad looking and stuff. He’d leave the house knowing he looked good that day. He admitted to walking down the street and being slightly confused when some of the women he passed didn’t blatantly run their eyes over his physique, because he had already grown accustomed to that kind of attention after a half hour of pedestrian traffic (yes, us city girls are eye-rapists too). The withdrawal of it shifts things into an indescribable emptiness, which The Girls and I have established as a dip in self-esteem, more often than not occurring under the radar.

For weeks we can survive on nothing but aforementioned street verification and pride. However – and every single woman has experienced this at various points of their lives – one insecure day will ruin the whole thing. A fat day, a blemish day, an acne day, a bad hair day. Getting dumped, even if it’s by someone you didn’t like. Losing your job. Getting rejected. Something will tip the scale, and the secret remedy to this heavy blanket of inadequacy is a nice, hard shot of validation. If they don’t receive it early, it will expand and grow into something much worse, much more desperate… frankly, it will turn into A Rut.

We mostly see using validation to cure insecurity woes as a disdainful, immature thing to do – but I’m not talking about acts that fuel adages like “The best way to get over someone old is to get under someone new.” No, that rarely works, at least not for the woman. We are the receivers, we end up feeling whorish and raped at the end of the day should we follow that path in some angry burst of determination. You don’t need to seal the deal with the deed in order to get what you need from the situation. You just have to be reminded that, kicks heels, yes you still got it.

All people need, in the end, is to be coveted. Admired. Wanted. Anonymously.

My girl called me a few weeks ago, and pouted into the phone. “Dynasty, I feel ugly today.” She already knows that I’m not one to lift my voice a few octaves and insist that she is beautiful, she is gorgeous, there are so many men in the world that would die to touch her, women who would kill to be her. I don’t need to tell her any of that shit, because it’s something that she should already know. She is hot as fuck. I don’t give false and unnecessary compliments, nor do I tolerate people fishing for them -- but I knew that wasn’t it, she wouldn't have called me for that. I crooned into the phone, “Let’s go get validated”; she laughed, but we never followed up. Little by little, she started feeling worse and worse about herself. All it would have taken was a smooth walk past a strip of idling dancers at a club, most likely on our way to the exit door, or the bar, or the bathroom. It’s almost guaranteed that as a female (much more as an attractive female) you’ll get welcomed hungrily by their eyes, their words, and in few unavoidable cases, their hands. It might not solve worlds of problems, but it would make you feel good about yourself without having to really give any of yourself away.

Even if it’s not that deep, just think about how groups of friends – both male and female -- get together to take a member of the fam out to a club or bar or other social scene post-breakup. Not only is it to ease the wounded back into the game, if successful it’s a way to ease him/her out of the insecurity that usually follows after getting dumped.

Women will spend hours on their hair, indulge in shopping sprees, change their outfits 6 times at least in order to achieve the most flattering figure, all so that they can go out that weekend, and turn down the men they’ve been accepting drinks from all night. It’s kind of fucked up, isn’t it – but I must say, it’s a hell of a remedy.

Another subtle form of validation is one I unfortunately find myself participating in regularly – retail therapy. Ohhh, nothing feels better than looking in that fitting room mirror triumphantly, contemplating a new piece to add to your wardrobe, because damn that shirt makes your waist look fly. Damn, that waist makes this ass look fly. Damn, those stripes lead you right to the good parts. Metal-backed stilettos and eye-catching scarves and deep v-neck sweaters that hug your breasts like air. The makeup industry – MAC, Sephora, entire stores dedicated to “enhancing” your beauty, aka “tapping into your deepest insecurities”… they’re there to make us feel better when we need them. There’s no other reason a woman could get coerced into purchasing a $40 tube of lip-gloss. If you saw her lips the way she saw them when she tried it on… whoo, you’d drop money for it too. Bet she would have thought twice about it though, if she was having a great self esteem day.

Especially in the wintertime, I find a lot of my girls stuck in these Ruts. I myself often slip in and out of self-esteem levels because this is when I get real lazy and stop being creative with my outfits. Black sweater, dark denim skinny jeans, faded brown wraparound boots and on a bad hair day, the everpresent brown houndstooth hat. My outfits vary based on accessories and hairstyles. None of it matters anyway, because the public only sees your coat and your shoes LOL.

This is also the same time I start getting extremely tired of my gear, and -- *rubs belly -- I always allow a decent amount of softness this season because my sweaters can cover it up. However, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m too vain to be this “shapeless.” I will admit to pulling out the off-the-shoulder tops and stiletto suede knee-highs to strut into a lounge with my bodyguard boys in tow. I dance with my eyes closed, and I dance well; it’s a comfort knowing that my fam will protect me if anyone gets too touchy, so I allow myself to really release. I get the attention I desire from afar, and a number will make its way into my pocket a time or two. Even if I don’t follow through, I know that I’ll be grinning at my reflection again, at least for the next few weeks. On those days, I might try something new with my style.

I’m not ashamed to admit any of this. It’s just what we do. Why make it a sin?

The Softer Side of Dynasty

2008-01-29T19:09:00.000-04:00

When I was back at (name withheld, gee this is hard).net, I was a lot... angrier. My writing voice was sterner, surer, belittling, sarcastic and confident -- nay, arrogant. I had a large, anonymous fanbase. It was intense.

My blog now is extremely different. My best friend used to check on (name withheld).net compulsively, as did many of my readers. I used to update 5 or 6 times a day -- long, mind-raping ramblings with intense introspect and musings on society. I think they felt more confident coming to my page obsessively knowing that I did not have a counter, ticker, tracker, whatever the fuck. They were able to drink in my words and still maintain a quiet, voyeuristic role in my life.

I slapped and dragged my mental orgasms all along the wall. I was a textibitionist. My attitude is what made it so thrilling.

It's kind of fucked up that all of that is gone. This last year was an intense humbling experience for me, and I'm not sure I can pull that arrogance back into my life like that. I miss it, excruciatingly so. And I know I'm not alone.

Even the fact that I'm no longer the "Master of my domain," demurely hosted by such a well-known, generic blog site... (withheld).net was MY moniker, MY government, MY reality... it speaks upon where I am in life today. What was on that page defined my world. Now, I struggle to find words to define my life. It's difficult.

I don't feel too huge of a loss. Granted, my writing was undeniably better when it had that inflated confidence pushing out the bravest, wildest of my imaginations. Something happened where I was forced to grow up and accept my position in life, and a part of me will always be glad I did. Maybe it's all for a reason.

I'm sorry if you find yourself disappointed when you come across this site, most likely found through some venn diagram collision of worlds, if you recognize me in all this and feel like I've "fallen off." I haven't. I've rearranged.

My readers now, the hunger they profess now, are here for different reasons. A year ago, I expressed the witty, take-no-prisoners, sarcastic "Strong Young Female" side of themselves they wanted to be. Now, I touch upon the conlicted, vulnerable, progessing parts of themselves they're not sure how to express.

I'm down with that. To fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go -- don quixote up in this motherfucker -- but, in all reality, I'm an otherwise elusive container of human that is extremely in touch with her emotions, but never willing to confront, absorb or accept them. Suppression is so second nature with me, that this blog is a huge. Deal. I think that only those who are on the same boat as I am -- struggling, afraid, but aware of the unavoidable growth -- will relate to these words or even bother to sit through a rambling.

The brain fart I had recently, where the poetry sputtered out -- that fucked me up. I stopped thinking in strings after that, and came to exist in fragments. Everything to me is becoming a poem, and I haven't felt like that since my elating workshops at college a year ago. I miss art. I miss painting, I miss writing things that require sharp eyes and subtle deciphering; I miss writing things that insist upon your attention and demand you agree with me because I tricked you into it with sarcasm, and I want to learn how to fit the way my hips move into someone else's choreography. I want to be touched again, and this isn't cutting it for me.

Lil Wayne Stuck Around

2008-01-29T12:33:00.000-04:00

Until I begrudgingly accepted him into my life. He's on every remix ever... EVER... and I can't help it. I've allowed myself to nod my head to him.

Ugh. I'm so ashamed.

Mary J Blige f. Lil Wayne, Precise & Swizz Beats - Just Fine (rmx)

I'm amazed.
This beat, to her voice, is hot.
Wait until Wayne comes in towards the end -- it's... *cringes*... hot.

I'm sorry. But wow.

TheDynasty

Miss January - The Procussions (ft Talib Kweli)

2008-01-26T13:17:00.000-04:00

True love got the power to change any circumstance
I knew we were far from the same, but still I took a chance
Wish I could have looked in advance to your advances
Knowing I’m the book that you read to your advantage
I understand it’s not like we planned it with the worst intentions
Taken for granted, I was stranded in your first impressions
I know it hurts to question, what will be a curse or blessin’
I guess it’s worth confessin’, maybe then we’ll learn our lesson.
Searching for your attention, hoping you were doing the same
Pursuing the fame, knowing that only you were entertained
Using me, and I was new to the pain
Cause Rejection, I hadn’t met him, though I knew him by name
True I grew from the pain, in the days where I’d pay anything
Standing there like John Cusack from Say Anything
Planning on for you to call back but it never rings...
There were so many things,
there were so many signs
And now I’m chasing wings
knowing it’s a waste of time
Until my God reminds me of what I truly need,
I take a look behind
just before your beauty leaves
To get a glimpse of you, hoping that you see me too
And now we staring at two people that we never knew
And probably never know,
hoping I’ll forever grow
into the one who finally gained the strength to let you go
You changed my ides
of what true love is
I wipe my eyes clear
and rise above this

RamblingThought:Fighter

2008-01-24T23:56:00.000-04:00

i confess
all my stress
is derived from my own mess,
less from the life that provides
right in excess.
blessings
fall left and right,
still i fight them
storin
those lessons
impressed
by the sight

and its like
i could right them
wrongs when I'm writin
songs
rather, poems,
knowin
the fallen
would call em the

letters of the strong

and they threadin into one
very long
memoir
of the soul and

time tends to show better
slow, but the flow
tends to roll
off the tongue,
like
smoke

like
emotions
without
self control:
declarations
of love
prematurely
exposed
and disposed
with no closure.

nations could know her
strength and composure...

posed with the eyes closed;

...most wouldn't buy her
they'd prob'ly try her;
might try to tie her
up, maybe down, maybe find
they desire

yup, they'll admire
yup, they'll aspire to
change
how she feels,
how she lives,
how she'd die
or
tame
how she flies or
name
what she likes
but they'll find
that their lives
and her mind
can't conspire

shame always finds her
blame plays its game
when the girl that remains
kinda prays for the fire;
Same day she'd
change
and decide to transpire
learn from the way
and with pride,
settle higher

yup, she's a fighter
but
she's a liar
lighting her path
with the wrath of a tiger

all thats a front.
she's a wounded outsider
lost counting losses that cross
every side. assumed
to be kinder,
rumored she's kinda
loose with her noose
and her youth makes her wilder
Whoo! they say can her
outfits get tighter?
She's such a bitch
She's a ho

(She's a "writer")

Truth
could be blurred.
A proof could be heard,
and truthfully verbal
confusion is ruthless.

Wordless?
Observe this:

You could be
visually
judging me
frequently,
I have been literally
raped with indecency.
So, it's a burden to
need to bear openly
such private things
to "anonymous"
people. See
recently I'm on some
"Honesty Equal" shit,
Treat everyone like they're
awesome and peoples. It
gets kind of messy when
I spit some deeper shit,
gets used against me and
now I'm a
cheaper
chick

Some kind of keeper of
secrets I seem to be
When I so freely
release my immunities.
Any good artist at
reaping will know that the weakest
are those
who bare everything needlessly.

Here is the deepest
of all my confessions:

these internal schemes are
my deepest obsessions.

The lessons I've learned
from the lashings
I've turned into
blessings with simply a
twist of my words
let me leisurely--
blissfully--
read through my life
like I've earned every
seed, every ounce of my pride --

Worse is that
this is the best I can seem to be.
Be it that I'm really young,
it competes with the
need to believe in the
teachings of history,
how it repeats
in the schemes
of my destiny.

(This is just ramblings
I penned after cannibus
found its way down my
attention and damn it's the
best thing I've written since
that bitch demanded this
animalistic
amazement to banishment!)

GOD!

2008-01-24T22:25:00.000-04:00

HOW can people hate the Roots?

HOW?

Like, HOW?

Profanity.

Late Night Ramblings

2008-01-23T03:18:00.000-04:00

Me: Hey, give me a good blogger nickname for my ex, the only thing I can come up with is "Cheetah Thighs."

SGF: lol, no I can't. If I did, it would be based on what you told me about him. All I remember is, "Dick Belongs In Porn."

LOL! Son, I hope the universe is giving you a big, fat high five right now.

A few things. I've had brief bursts of revelations in the past couple of hours.

1) I've got some repenting to do.

I just had dinner with my good friend Pretty, I don't know if you remember me mentioning him a while back. We used to date, and we had a brief falling out; now we're great friends and naturally avoiding the relationship thing. Luckily, at least on my end, our love for each other is stronger than ever.

We were catching up on thangs tonight after work. Over deliciously disgusting cheese steaks and later, a cup of mocha @ Starbucks, we rambled on about our lives and insulted each other, grinning like fools. He was telling me that he woke up in the middle of the night completely elated that the girl he's seeing now snores just as loudly as he does. We're at a point in our friendship where we can speak candidly about the relationship we had, and we laughed over the time I snapped at him for snoring so loudly that I had trouble sleeping. I'd angrily threatened to kick him out of bed for depriving me of sleep in my own damn house. Normally, I'd have suppressed my frustration and let his beautiful ass sleep, because I liked him that much. Just so happened that one night I couldn't take it anymore, and I got extremely cranky and reckless with my words. I let out the fists of fury and he never forgot.

Do you know what he told me? =(

He said that he used to stay up for hours to make sure I fell asleep before he did, so that he wouldn't wake me up with his snoring. He lost so many hours of sleep because .. fuck, because he was a really, really good guy. I felt horrible.

Fuckin A, Tribe did that for me too. Once.

A couple of days ago, I was pondering upon my recent frustrations with Tribe and his inability to open up, or his tendencies to retreat during moments of stress, and how it conflicted heavily with the affection I wanted to show him. I thought about all the things I wanted to contront him about, when something gave me great pause.

Cheetah Thighs, if you read me at all, youre going to stab your screen so hard in an I TOLD YOU SO moment. Get your finger ready. Karma's sucking your dick right now.

Everything I wanted to tell Tribe, my ex very blatantly told me before/while we were breaking up. Everything. I sat there, stunned, and my heart started melting uncontrollably. I texted Wife, who speaks to him on occasion, and asked her to relay to Porn Star Dick that I truly appreciated his patience, and that I cannot believe he tolerated this for 5 whole months. Every day, nonetheless. I deal with Tribe like, once a week, if that much. CT/PSD worked on me every day without wavering in his dedication and affection, and he didn't withdraw or give up until the very end.

Every day. Do you have any idea how hard that is? I learned that I am extremely difficult to accept without some kind of love being somewhere in the picture fueling that determined tolerance. Mad respect. I'm terribly, terribly sorry.

Dealing with Tribe suddenly put my own actions into a harsh perspective, and I took a reeling step back. I was definitely meant to meet PSD (Don't worry, that is only a temporary nickname until I find one more fitting. Unless, of course, you don't mind). I'm learning to exercise the patience he showed me, and I'm understanding Tribe better because I have to dig into myself to find him (which, oddly enough, is the hardest thing to do. I'm blind when it comes to my wrongdoings, even in retrospect it takes a while for the full truth to reveal).

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. All the fucking men in my life, I thank you from the bottom of my fucking heart. I am SUCH a cunt. Wow. The love I have for all of you is endless.

2) Yeah, that. Love.

I had to give Cheetah Thighs a nickname for this post because he's coming up a lot in conversation. I'll refer to him as PSD because A) it's less emasculating and B) it's more flattering.

SGF and I rarely get to speak to each other. That's my homegirl, half a world away. She's, er.. 8 hours behind me on the clock? So we only catch each other online during NYC's quietest hours; luckily I have an erratic sleep pattern (it's 3:20 am as I type) so we catch each other every few weeks or so. We were talking about love and what it meant to be in it; I mentioned a conversation PSD and I had a while ago.

He made a statement I completely agreed with, at least at the time. He said, "I've loved a lot of women before, but I've never known what it was like to be in love." That might sound like a really odd statement to make, but not for people like him, like us. We are in tune with our emotions enough to recognize and acknowledge what isn't. On top of that, both of us are writers. There is a word for every feeling, every level of emotion, every shift in intensity, every reason of attraction. If we don't know it, we will find one. People like him and yes, I admit, even myself, are romantics at heart, and we both -- at least, I -- have an understanding that when you are in love, you will know.

For people like SGF, and I, and perhaps even PSD -- we are naturally inclined to give. I often confused endless giving with loving, and I was able to dedicate myself to love without ever really understanding what it was supposed to feel like, to truly want to give it without the tiniest ounce of force or obligation. I didn't understand the true driving motivation behind the emotion, I only knew the actions and the loyalty. After I came to the realization of what I was doing, I withdrew completely and sort of.. gave nothing, if it wasn't love. That withdrawal was the demise of my relationship with PSD -- I cannot regret that, for I did not feel that love with him, either -- and it seems that the reality of it will be the demise of my relationship with Tribe, reversed. Because of this experience, when I have to let go, I will be ready.

I'm telling you, yo. Pay attention to everyone you encounter. Everything happens for a reason. Always be thankful, and always try to learn as much as possible.

I love how I failed at not talking about my dating life. Well, enjoy one of the rare glimpses into my heart. They will be few and far between.

Thank you, so much. PSD, Pretty, JB, even Providence, all of you made an impact on my growth and I have you to thank in the future, when I become the person I want to be. I can only hope I was able to do the same.

I'm sorry for everything I've done to yall. Even if it was something I couldn't change at the time, I really do feel horrible. Damn.

And thank you, for those who forgave me. I hope the rest of the world will see the kindness in your hearts.

Love,
theDynasty.

RamblingThought:Frustration

2008-01-22T19:26:00.001-04:00

you do
to my heart what you
do to my
words
i
start
then I stumble
then halt
and reverse
unsure
of the structure to
place on my verse
and without
certainty
i retreat
to the worst

we converse
on the surface,
avoiding
emotions
the art of
suppression
would take over first,
messin up
on my step
at the start
of confessions --

(Was its not meant to happen?)

--thus i doubt
and return...

Changing course
of direction
maybe forcing
affection
from your actions
compassion
is masked and reserved
but you keep
tugging me
back into your universe
with a kind fucking word
or a Sweet
undeserved

thus I doubt
and return
changing courses
and morals
and mourning
remorses
of course its
rebirth
yo of course
shit is different
this instance
im missing
the distance
i once was
insisting
in force

we were better
when farther
apart from
each other
no other
contender
could beat
like you could,
every time
id indulge in
a "Real Life
Relationship"
patience
would wane
and i'd wade
to your hood

well its
Something

In The Way

You Move

Attracts Me Like
No Other
Lover

Something
In The way

You Move
Me,

I Dont Want To
Leave You Now

You Know
I Believe
In How

i hear
certain songs and
i steal all their words
cuz you stole
every ounce
every noun
every verb
I'm concerned
cuz I don't
see a future
in working
and hurtin
but Somethin
keeps saying
it's worth it

I don't know
what love is
but passion
is lurking
beneath
every surface
it's heightened
by conflict
I see you
and need to
just touch you
Adjust you
confront you
adjust to
your girth and
your person

it's different
with you
and I dont quite
know how;

its funny
how you'll never
read this,
and how

I'd never
feel comfortable
telling
you now

so
my Musiq
will ask
all
these
Questions
out loud:

Im
Asking
You,

Will Our Love Grow?

You Don't Know
Oh, You Don't Know...

Stick Around
And It May Show,

Cuz You Don't Know.
Oh, Oh Ohhh

Quickie: This Just In, and Football (Female Angle)

2008-01-22T11:47:00.001-04:00

I've got 10 minutes before my first meeting of the day, so let me get a little bit of my Monday Bitters (nevermind that it's a Tuesday, I had yesterday off) out of the way.

1) Britney Spears told a homeless man that asked her for money, "You're better off being homeless than being me."

I guess that statement was supposed to strike pity into the hearts of all us hungry civilians, latched on to her spiraling antics like parasites huh? Oh, this poor rich white girl is out of control, what with so much attention and all, like omigash her life is so hard!

*Blink*

I'm sorry, bitch, did you just say that he was "better off being homeless?"

*Squints*

Better off, bitch?
Your life is worse, than that of a homeless man, bitch?
Really? Really?

At least you got drugs, bitch.
Imagine being addicted to drugs, and not being able to AFFORD ANY bitch.
Better off my ass, bitch.
Give me that money.
She really said that.
Damn.
I would have pissed on her fucking tongue for saying that shit to me.
Damn.

2) So I watched the Giants/Packers game on Sunday. I'm not a big football head, mainly because I don't understand everything about it. I'm learning, but my interest can only stretch so far. Blue line, yellow line, fumble, complete. Downs... scrimmage...
thighs...
huddles...
big... bulging muscles...
male agression...
thighs...

What?

I was told that football was something you cannot truly get into until you've played it before, and I can understand that. I don't mind keeping my eyes glued to that screen though, because all those asses in shiny spandex pants keep me entertained for DAYS. DAYYSS. Yum.

With that said, my last boyfriend allowed me the opportunity to sharpen the Art of Watching The Game with a man/your man (and he was the first to take the time to explain to me what the basics meant), so I rushed to make it to the spot before 6:30 and settle in for some discreet appreciative eye-raping. I was actually interested in the outcome this time -- probably because of the fact that it was indeed a very important game for New York, and thankfully my company was enthusiastic with reactions, which added to the fun-ness of it all.

AND GUESS WHAT! I have opinions!

Dude, I formed opinions on a football game!

This is an interesting development. We were rooting for the Giants, of course, but as a newbie female semi-impartial viewer, I have an honest confession. I... uh.. kind of respected the Packers' game a lot. *Flinches and ducks against flying stones*

First off, let my vagina speak. The Packers are a sexy ass team. They ARE. Compared to the Giants, those boys had that testosterone shit on lock. I can't control what my clitorous responds to, and it was plastered to the path of a couple of Packers players, following them like a flower to the sun. The beef between ..burress? and Harris turned me on, and though I don't know what Harris's face looks like, those dreads and that ass and that mean streak combined had me panting after his run like a thirsty golddigger. (I'll dig inside those gold pants anyday, daddy. Jesus.)

Yes, the Giants have been doing great all season. Yes, it was a crazy game. They started out kickass and there were some cute moments along the way, and that last interception was awesome and stuff; how can I be so blasphemous when they've come so far? But really... would they have made it to the Superbowl if it wasn't for that third chance? Are you SURE it wasn't because of luck? *Wards off bullets* I'm not talking about the whole season, obviously, because I haven't been following it. I'm talking about this one particular game.

I mean, maybe I'm biased because I was more visually attracted to the Packers during the entire thing (kind of like the male reasoning behind Rhianna's "talent"), but I feel that GB played a more impressive game. And my rape victim Harris over there, after bullrhino-ing back and forth with Plaxico (ha, ha, he sounds like a prescription drug), fucked up his leg or something and STILL limped his sexy ass around the field. Is that not worthy of respect? Or at least a blow job? *Gets backhanded by a Giants fan* OW! I'm SORRY!

I mean, this should be an interesting turnout. Wife, although she is from NYC, admits that she is a Patriots fan. Undefeated is undefeated, after all. I promised Providence that I'd root for the Giants, and out of respect to him, the aforementioned ex that taught me what there is to know about football, and the city that nurtured me and raised me to be the wonderful asshole that I am today, I will root for them during the Superbowl. Wife's not going to speak to me for a few days, but I've done worse. It's all love.

Wow, I watched football.

Whether or not you agree with anything I had to say, I'm just surprised I have an opinion at all. *Grin*

My female readers (which is probably, er, all of them), I apologize for that odd ass moment. You blocked out half this post, and I can dig that. I'll have something on validation and confidence that you can relate to next time, I promise.

Also, I just don't feel comfortable blogging about my dating life anymore. I tried, but it's not time yet. Sorry :)

Besides, it's more or less come to a halt. The frustrations and elations just.. aren't small enough to admit to such a general, impersonal audience. I'll do what I do best in times of intense confusion -- write it out -- but there is no confusion yet, not here. It's down to one and I'm focusing on that for the time being. If that doesn't work out, I'll just get back on the horse; until then it's none of your biznassss.

Love,
TheDynasty

The Backpedal

2008-01-17T13:57:00.001-04:00

The time has come for me to start yearning to renege on all my resolutions. Will power is the wierdest (and hardest) thing.

I'm feeling the nicotene cravings stirring in my chest again. It usually happens during delicious cups of coffee or in between long sips of alcoholic bitch drinks. Luckily, my body (more than my mind) is adamant about staying clean. I get nauseous maybe four pulls in, and I usually end up throwing out the cigarette early whenever I buckle and bum one off a smiling stranger. (It's too easy to get by without buying packs for yourself when you are an attractive female in a big city. Catch eyes with a smoker and slow down. They usually come to a stop before you do.)

I'm lucky, because it's not like I'm struggling to put mind over matter in this situation. I'm not trying to force my body into listening to my head, I'm still merely following what my insides tell me. It's funny, kind of. Wife told me the other day that it's odd how in-tune I am with my body's messages (ironic, in seeing how badly I've spoiled it until now). I'd "treated myself" and consumed a farm in one sitting (half a turkey burger, half a beef burger, with bacon on the side) after following a dip in craving (didn't cut out meat, per se, just began looking at the other options). Yo, I couldn't finish my plate. By that point in the meal, my heart had grown so heavy and thick; I'd also strayed from my soda hiatus and ordered a can to wash down the grease. The results were immediate, and I grimaced while putting a hand over my chest. "I have to stop," I said. And I did.

Even in quitting, I'm passive. I merely observe and react to what I'm told by my body. lol.

On the other side of the spectrum, in which I am having to force my physical to abide by the mental -- How's my celibacy coming along? Feh. Since the official declaration date (Jan 1st), I've done my fair share of reconsidering. Everyone told me that it was a stupid idea. I'm inclined to agree, but at least I'm practicing restraint. We'll see where that goes.

Ever since my father found my bag of dicks (ha!), I've been without any, er... aid. All for the better; the walls of our tiny ass railroad apartment don't leave much room for the animal sounds that would usually rip from my little Asian throat (arf, arf) anyway. Moving back home did help a lot, it makes placing rules on myself easier. And on the plus side, my libido is still sleepy. It's gotten used to being ignored.

I think the term "gluttony" should be expanded past food and drink. I adore how it sounds, it is a really fitting word for a lot of situations.

I'm blessed to have the friends I do. It gives me a better understanding of what love is, I'm quite unfamiliar to it. That kind of love helps make the distinction between infatuation and those evasive flutterings that leave you (me) uncomfortably giddy after certain moments pass. I ran into Wife in the bathroom at work this morning, before I got a chance to visit her at her desk. We walked right into each others arms, embraced and pouted with genuine feeling. ("Baby, I don't care that everyone thinks we're gay!") I got that flush of warmth when she pressed her forehead to my neck, and I dropped my cheek onto her hair. Though we've been hanging out a lot lately, we've been more around each other than with each other; she murmured "Wife!" before we hugged for a long time. I sincerely miss her and think about her quite often. I'm glad she loves me and misses me too.

I miss the times I spent alone with Tribe, as well, here I am admitting a soft spot. We've been doing 'group sessions' with his homies and though they've been very entertaining, I'm quite overstimulated. Maybe I'm just overstimulated in general. I've been craving for early bedtimes on my own giant mattress. Quiet. I'm inclined to cease speaking for a couple of days. I need to readjust.

January is stretching out to be a bit of a long month. December passed with the quickness, but I guess reconstruction is always slow.

Love,
theDynasty

Grumpy. Ranting.

2008-01-16T19:29:00.000-04:00

They couldn't finish the root canal because my gum is too infected. They poked around, medicated me, then told me to come back next week. I'm in a lot of pain. Fuck everbody. Thank God they were generous with the anasthesia. Spelling. I tried to hold in my mewing as much as possible, but whenever I let one go, they'd stab a new needle in. The love in my heart for them is overwhelming.

I got some medicine put in last week, so I'm not allowed to eat on the left side of my mouth. I been eating on the right side, which hurt like hell because of this one fucktard tooth. Now, I can't eat on the right side, either. Basically, I just can't eat.

Soft foods for a week.

What the fuck does that even mean? What can I eat besides yogurt and mashed potatoes? Where do the animals fit into this mix? I'm scared!

The strain of flu that I just got over is incredible. I passed it on to like, 8 people in 2 days. I am amazing.

However, because I've been hanging out with those same people, I'm wondering if its possible to catch it back.

I realized, while the dentist was tsk'ing over my open mouth and asking me if I was hungry (I wasn't), that my automatic reaction to pain is tensing up and salivating a lot. I don't know why the salivation happens, but I suddenly recalled all the times I had to get shots, or picked at a particularly tender pimple, or got a tattoo, a piercing, etc. At the end of those ordeals, I always had a mouthful of clear, frothless drool to spit out. Good, this prepares me for those surprise bukkake attacks. In times of fear, I will always be well lubricated.

When dentist and.. head... dentist (..? er, her boss) were poking around at the tender spots that didn't respond to anasthesia (this happened to me a lot in my past, perhaps my body just rejects shit), the female one pet my shoulder and said, "honey, you need to relax." I laughed weakly and said, "I can't." She made a sad noise and while she was explaining to me that the numbness won't take unless I stop clenching, I looked up at the speckled ceiling and reminded myself that I have to return to those yoga classes. Or some fucking method of meditation. I'd repeated the same thing to my ex one time in bed, that I simply couldn't relax. Last night -- and many, many nights before that -- I couldn't fall asleep because I couldn't "sink in" to any comfortable position. I had to force myself to take the tension out from my shoulders, and then it just felt awkward. How unfortunate I am.

*Pops gum*.. my life is so hard!

I'm done ranting. I'm going to take this weakass painkiller and curl into a corner of my bed and cry. I've regained feeling in my lip.

I'm done going out for a while.

Lies. I made so many plans in advance that I'd feel horrible backing out of them.

OH MY GOD WHEN WILL THE WORLD STOP THROBBING

The Dynasties - summarized around a toothache

2008-01-11T14:39:00.001-04:00

My social butterfly activities were cut short by colds this week, and I'm muttering under my breath but accepting the fact that I just don't have it in me to break nights like I used to (Yeah, you like how I implied that I had a social life before this, right?). Instead of just saying "I'm getting old" and laughing it off as a joke, let me firmly remind myself that I'm extremely unfit. *Cough.* I keep staring at the tub of vitamins on my workdesk and forgetting to take them (except now, *swigs water*). I have to get over my phobia of pills, especially of giant putrid pills that can turn your urine day-Glo. Apparently the green means it's working. Delicious.

I've officially quit smoking. I wanted to wait until I was absolutely sure before I declared it. I haven't had the urge to smoke in ages, so I'm comfortable with calling it truth now. I've buckled here and there, but my few pulls were retaliated with nausea so I'm way turned off (although I'm still curious as to why drinking alcohol makes the throat grow fonder). I don't miss it, though the smell of it still brings back soft, yummy memories. Let's hope this decision continues on through the summer, I can't remember the last time I've relaxed in the sun without a cigarette planted in my hand. It's been damn near a decade since I've started, and old habits die hard dontcha kno.

I will finally talk to Tribe. I don't know what I'm going to say, I just know that there are a lot of things that need to be said. I should start from the beginning, Lord give me strength. I'm still finding it very hard to open up to people I care about.

This might be a chapter closing. If it is, you might not hear about him ever again. I still go into autopilot when it comes to matters of heartache, and it will bury itself in order to cool down.

I hope Providence doesn't prove to be as passive as he is coming off as. I do not want to take complete reign in any relationship. However, this will be a good opportunity to learn how to take ANY lead. He did say he was extremely patient. And my, so handsome. I still enjoy spending time with him. His respectfulness throws me off guard still. I keep translating it as worry.

Ever since I went to the dentist, my teeth have been giving me problems. I have the only raging toothache right now; it's turning the right side of my vision dull and I cannot focus on a damn thing. I have so much work to be done on my mouth, my fault for letting it get to that point. Dag.

I just got over the flu, my second ailment this month. Damn, I get sick a LOT. My immune system is a piece of shit. I need to start exercising. Of course, I don't get the ball rolling until it is already way too far downhill. I aggravate myself too.

Thank God for health insurance. *Kisses cards all over*.. it's been so long since I had you. Welcome back into my life. I won't take you for granted ever again, I promise. My, your coat looks shiny. Blue is a good color on you. You take such good care of me. I truly do not know what I have until it's gone. I'm so glad you're here, and I will love you and use you until the day you leave again.

My chest just went numb. What the fuck does that mean? Can chests fall asleep? *Stretches and rubs breastbone*

I should go back to work. So much to be done. But I'm so tired.

Love.

Ramblingthought:Win

2008-01-08T04:30:00.001-04:00

it's confusing
the way you lose
the truth in choosing
which ground to root in,
disputin'
the moment a sound come out
the mouths of those who doubt
the proof in Movement
shootin' down with verbal bullets
those excuses he come up with
Man's successes, at their best
accept the credit
of the masses

yes, investing is the message
that the wealthy's steady sending...
yet the shit is met with protest
(onto testy ground I tread and...)
certain lessons do pertain
to those who live in lower classes
this regardless of the shade or
how you're made in certain spectrums...

maybe those who pitch their prose are
not denying generations
or that slavery exists,
cause yes,
its still a pressing issue...
but the land
is rich
with loopholes --
don't
let Man
use them
against you.

i may not have eaten from the
seeds of history they fed you....
but my roots were carried too
survived the droughts, though not official
nevermind I grew up poor
had less than your
parents could give you...
you tell me my salary's
bestowed upon my yellow people...

you say opportunity
does grow because I'm put above you
maybe I say differently
simply because of what we been through
You don't see our families
put kids through universities
by saving, making hourly
wages in fucking factories..
on every other corner
yes, the mainstream streets of nyc
there's a gated window
tired eyes over sewing machines
fathers working seven days
and fourteen hours just to make
half of what their neighbors make
in half a day
with half the weight
upon their shoulders, give or take
the pride and hope they barter with
and now its up to us damn kids
to live the dreams they started with

they tell us too that we have to
fight hard every step of the way
but they tell us the secret way
by shielding us from EVERY pain
and wielding education as our
biggest weapon we obtain
the knowledge of the corporate
stay deaf to what the streets could say

you see,
america believes
that since it took
the liberty
of "giving" us the joys
of being called
the "good minority"
we face
racism
in those streets, and its
portrayed so openly

i guess that's all okay though
cause of all that "opportunity"..

no,
we won't make C.E.O but
they do guarantee I.T...
so we accept that "thankfully"
and take it, take it silently
we run our races quiety
we run these miles on our knees
there is no fear, there's no respect
i guess
it's all about those checks
(I guess
my people still forget
that we can shout as loud as them)
it's not our time to rise right now,
I guess
(I'm waiting,
still no sound)
but i feel you can make it out
with unified awareness NOW

It takes a lot of sacrifice
to win a battle biased right
adjusting some priorities,
this goes out to
minorities
minorities
(not black, not brown)
its poverty
that keeps us down
and yes, it's harder for our kind
(ALL of our kinds)
to come around...
we have to "prove" our worth to em
work twice as hard to circle them
must put aside our differences
and histories to move ahead

and once you stand in front of them
or next to them
on top of them
THEN you break the chains of race.
it's so easy to stop us when

they standing up there listenin
to streets so deep beneath them and
some people find it comforting
to know those streets
still welcome them

INVEST in everything you can
and BEAT them in their own damn plan
there's better ways
to make the
paper
all
about
the benjamins
right now, it's bout
america
america
land that i love
economy relies on you
so take it three notches above
Man's successes, at their best accept
the credit of the masses
last in line could pass the fascists
take your time
to gain your assets

The (Male) Dynasty, Part I

2008-01-07T17:48:00.001-04:00

Where the hell did that 80/20 thing come from? My memory, as usual, escapes me. From what I recall, it had to do with cheating... but let me take it out of context for a minute.

I know there's no such thing as a perfect man, and I'm not deluding myself into thinking that such mythical creatures exist. But damn, what if that missing 20% is a really, really important 20? Like, communication? Or reliability? What if it's something that the other can't really change about themselves, and what if it's something I can't change within me to compromise and accept? And what if that 80% is like, f'n uncompareable?

I've dated/seen a few who have offered that 20. Good on paper, and great --successful, adoring, attractive, doting, plain old wonderful -- boyfriends... er... for somebody else. There's something missing there that I don't have the energy to fake, and these dudes are gonna make some women out there really, REALLY happy.

Is it ever worth chasing after that 20? Even if it is a very, very important 20?

The Providence Dynasty, Part II

2008-01-04T13:51:00.001-04:00

Raises brows -- well. I'm impressed.

It was tres PG 13, but I'm glad. We spent most of our time asking questions over drinks (I had a lychee martini for the first time, very interesting flavor) and studying each other during bathroom breaks. He's still quite respectful. Very adorable. From what my hands ran over while we were dancing, his body is onnnnn point. Good job, has artistic aspirations for his future, very attentive and confident, not cocky. We argued hip hop on the ride to the spot, he threatened to pull over and push me out the car for not being a die-hard Jay Z fan. I invited him to school me, though I didn't guarantee a change in stance; we agreed to hold a music session in the future. Somehow, I also agreed to salsa lessons and taking a bite of snow crab the next time he makes them (I don't like seafood.) Similar views on kids and marriage, not that either of us are thinking that far. He's a mild sneakerhead, we both used to love Mos Def (he met him in person... crack is a terrible, terrible thing), and when our conversation briefly dipped into the sexual, he responded to my questions with a carefree, "You'll have to find out in June." (Smile.) We ended the night with a soft cheek kiss and a grin.

Well, there's the breakdown.

Do I like him?

I don't know yet. I'm definitely intrigued. This is the first time I've enjoyed myself so much without any kind of infatuation marking thoughts or actions with urgency. No red flags to ignore, no flickers of intrusion; hell I was struggling to curb my otherwise unreigned profanity when I realized that he rarely uses curse words, at least in the presence of women. I was too busy enjoying myself to be insecure about the way I looked, spoke, laughed. On the other hand, I wasn't too concerned about his opinion of me either, because I just.. forgot to worry about it. The feeling was hovering somewhere between Crushing and Platonic. I dig his fashion and the fact that he has no qualms about drinking martinis then admitting when he's a little twisted off of them, in public. Makes me tilt my head in adoration and shit. I didn't know what to do when he opened the car door for me. He's taking my standards up a few more notches. It's mad cute.

Stay tuned, I guess..
Grin.

Musing,
TheDynasty

The Providence Dynasty

2008-01-03T18:30:00.000-04:00

Hmm. I'm going on a date with this dude I am interested in, but don't know enough to like yet. Keep in mind, I've always just sort of stumbled into loverships with men I befriended and ended up wildly attracted to, so this is a new for me. Providence is extremely appealing, but there is no blushing haze of romance or lust altering my perception of him. Matter fact, I don't yet have any definite perception of him to alter. He is very handsome. He is damn respectful. And judging from his myspace (you know we had to do that though, LOL!), he is quite a coveted commodity. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm not nervous or excited. I'll just see where this goes, and keep you updated, maybe.

What happened to Tribe? Oh, I've still got an ear cocked in his direction. I did say I was going to be patient, didn't I? I never said I was going to be prude while at it. Come on, now, I'm too pretty for that shit. I happened to come across an offer that pulled me back long enough to listen.

Besides, I've come close to exhausting myself with this new "showing affection" business I've been doing my best to stick to. Now I see why it's considered so obnoxious to others when I think my "subtle" signs would spring the hugest of echoes and be enough to reciprocate genuine displays of emotion. Well shit.

Anyway, I'm not worried about this one anymore. He can step up his game, and until he does, I will continue to define mine. If he doesn't, his loss.

I forgot how good I feel in a nice pair of heels.

I am not a writer.

2008-01-01T23:56:00.000-04:00

I am a thinker, that knows how to write.

I started keeping a journal in the 6th grade. I started scribbling out "Poetry With Potential" in the 7th. Apparently, the creative part of your brain that generates poetry is located in the same sector as the part of your brain that generates your dreams. I went through some odd mental kaleidoscope in junior high school, and I had no way of sifting a damn thing into perspective. I also had no one that I felt would be able to relate. Not understanding the connection between the two, I wrote my ass off.

I had this envelope I swiped off my teacher's table in the 5th grade. It was a nice dark manilla that was unused and crisp; the little metal tabs were still flat and untouched. The glue stripe was shiny, smooth, and for some reason I thought it would taste like rubber bands. It was small, probably for our report cards. I slipped it in between my books happy that it had not yet been marred by my teacher's awful handwriting -- my name in the upper right hand corner, the cursive too tall and too flat at the same time. It lay forgotten in my desk drawer until one day, I felt like cleaning. I found it in the pocket of a divider. Suddenly, my fingers starting itching from the inside, and I grabbed the nearest 5 Star and wrote a story about how I had lost a friend because she had started stealing from me to support her drug habit. It was "inspired" from one of those after-school Don't Do Drugs commercials they played in between cartoons.

I knew it wasn't good, and I knew it wasn't realistic. I had no friends with drug habits yet, so I didn't know how believable the story could be. My whole concept of drugs was a twisted white cigarette in the palm of a mean (and generous, what the hell, did strangers really do that?) looking kid on channel 11. I knew that a pair of star-shaped acid green sunglasses would provide no financial benefit for an addict in need of a fix. Yet, I carefully tore the sheet from its perforated edges, folded it in half, and marveled at how perfectly my fabrications fit inside of this dark, unused, unusual little envelope.

I cannot write fiction. I know that doesn't necessarily qualify me as a "bad writer," of course every talent has its specific fields of weakness. However, I cannot apply what comes so easily to me when scribing observations on emotions and society into a neat and linear storyline. I can't take these words out of the metaphysical -- shit, if that's even the right word -- and drape them onto a character's reality like clothing. I've tried, many many times, and every single story I've started ended up abandoned, forgotten, or just... bad. When I sit in front of a keyboard with the intentions of sticking to a theme, not a single seed will sprout. Hm.

My writing now tends to... elaborate on reality, at its falsest. Did that make sense? But the thing is, loves, it's not the WRITING that elaborates on reality, it's my mind. My fingers just record it all. I have the oddest memory. Any friend of mine can attest to that. Want to hear a little secret? Only about 3/5ths of that manilla envelope story is true. But none of it, not a single part of it, was a lie.

I threw away those stories when I got older. I revisited that first one I wrote with eyes that have actually seen what drugs actually do, and I grimaced. I shuffled through the ones I wrote after that. I kept the ones about my life that were more like diary entries rather than fictional encounters, but eventually I slipped them all into the trash and decided to dedicate myself back to fine arts. Then, blogging happened. *Grin*

I sat down a couple of minutes before starting this post excited to begin a writing project I was actually interested in. It was supposed to be a piece from the perspective of the pussy, and you KNOW I would have died to give the vagina a loud, clear voice. But I typed out one line. And I stared at the screen. Control A, delete, tap tap tap. Another line, which sounded better than the first. Blink, squint, control A, delete. I was going to light a post-quit cigarette (but I didn't! Woot). It was in the middle of the deletion dance that I realized that it's always been this hard for me. Now I can find ways to tie that into my life and other reoccuring patterns, and how I get disheartened easily and eventually quit everything I start, but I'll leave that up to another day. I'm not going to overthink for a minute.

I don't know where this post was going. Oh whatever. I had a lot of fun writing it. LOL

Happy New Year,
Love
The Dynasty

It is what it is

2007-12-31T01:54:00.001-04:00

Something happened where I've come to doubt myself, my abilities, and my standards to an unfamiliar level in which I ask an insane amount of questions (cough: this blog) that have no definite, standard answers. I know I'm overthinking, and I know I'm stressing myself out. Eventually I'll get over it and stop merely dipping my toe into the water; I'll dive (no more cannonballing either LOL), I just don't know when yet. All this thinking is hard to -- and here's the magic word -- control. I have the LEAST amount of control over myself, and that's what I'm struggling to achieve.

So here's a little cheek slap to myself.

*SLAP*
YO.
YOU NEED TO STOP THINKING AND START DOING.

How many times they have to keep telling you that?

Snap out of it, bitch, and get back to your resolutions. You're reneging. Because you're thinking too goddamn much. Stick with the decisions you made before you try to sprint up ahead and come up with new ones.

*Points*.. now GO.

Love,
Yourself

Taken From 5andapossible - Friendships

2007-12-28T15:23:00.000-04:00

"When I first read Thurman’s line it gave me pause because I thought about how difficult it is to let someone be who they are or who they want to be without bringing all your own shit to their table. Parents place extraordinary expectations onto their children, friends have unrealistic demands of friends, spouses project their uncertainties onto spouses, etc, etc. At one point or another we have felt the need to tell somebody about themselves, about how they were living, about what they need to do: go back to school, leave that man alone, take that job, don’t take a risk and move to a different city… And if we haven’t said it to their faces, we’ve thought about it or gossiped with our other friends about it. We have brought our own fears and trepidation about our lives into someone else’s life and tried to stop them from being who they are and who they want to be.

Recently, a friend and I had tête à tête. I told her all about herself and what I thought about a certain situation she had been in, not in a mean way per se, but in a matter of fact, I think I’m being helpful and being a friend kinda way…And she retorted by telling me all about herself, her real self...Who she was at the time and who she is now. What she believed then and how she has grown from that situation. She revealed parts of psyche that I never knew (and I mean was I really entitled to knowing the inner workings of her mind) that left me like “oh is that what you been thinking all along? Well I ain't know all that…”

It was days after our exchange that I read Thurman’s line and I had one of those ‘doh’, I coulda had a V8 moments. I realized that I had brought how I would live my life into my friend’s life. And how many of y’all know that doesn’t work? I mean like ever. I had to really accept that just because we're friends, just because we share a lot of the same values, hopes and wants in life, doesn't mean that we approach situations the same way. I had put a brought a little too much of me into her life..."
-Rum Punch

While I am learning to utilize this into my everyday behavior (anyone who knows me in real life knows that I take my friendships way too personally, I get extremely impatient and insistant when it comes to certain situations), I wonder...

Is it always the best thing to do, to step back and let them be -- and in cases that could potentially be harmful, allow them to "learn on their own?"

I was struggling with a really close friend of mine this past year, and only recently did I fall back and swallow my reactions to her behavior. Speaking with PT never failed to break my heart; there was a short period of time where I had to cut off all contact and "break up" with her because I despaired so intensely. I was known to be the "Bad Cop" and lecture her, to point (or rather, jab) the errors into plain view and shine light on obvious paths out. She was in a turbulent relationship that left her shattered to pieces, and she spiraled into a void that could only be replaced with self destructive behavior and drugs. She clung onto the smallest signs of affection from Him, she dissed her friends for him on numerous occasions, and did outlandish things for him that he did not deserve. She began doing Ecstacy, then eventually plunged into the world of cocaine.

Oh, my God darlings... You have no idea what was going on in my heart when it came to my baby girl.

It was the cocaine that made me realize that I needed to stop trying to help her. She already knew how I felt about the situation, and I should have left it at that. My constant belittling made her withdraw from me, hide parts of her life, hide parts of herself. When I realized what was happening, I was ashamed. Around the same time, something in me kind of shut off, because I was just plain old tired of begging her to help herself. I began to show indifference when she mentioned a bump or a line, and slowly she began opening up to me again. I cannot help this girl, I thought, but I can be there for her. I did my best, though it was hard to stop myself from vomiting out disapproval or advice on a few occasions afterwards.

Last night, PT and I were on one of our dates. She was telling me about her successes in quitting and confided that she only did one line on Christmas, and didn't even enjoy it. I was SO happy, and SO proud, and I broke in to apologize for the way I acted. "I'm sorry for all those times I yelled at you in the past," I said. "An addiction is an addiction and I should have understood that." She waved it off, and told me that it was something she had needed.

So.. Wait. Was I doing the right thing by being that constant presence on her shoulder, reminding her that she was hurting herself? Would holding my tongue have given her this false sense of acceptance, allowing her to continue doing what she was doing?

When my ex-roommate offered me an ultimatum between staying in the apartment or ridding myself of my "addiction" to marijuana, I came to fully understand that all addictions can only be ended when the individual is ready to end it. It's something they can only do on THEIR time, not yours, not anyone else's. Since then, I've quieted my concerns and disapproval on her use. She knew that she was pushing her limits, and she knew that she was doing way too much for her frame. She didn't need me to tell her any of that. And she did come to stop on her own.

Sigh. So many questions. In the cases outside of addiction... for instance, bad relationship choices... what is your place, as a friend? Do you accept it, as long as they don't stop being a good friend to you? And what if it crosses over into the friendship, causing damage between you two? Do you say something then?

I understand that there shouldn't be any standard for what defines you as a "good friend." But where do you find the line? When can one be considered overbearing and insensitive, rather than a friend concerned?

The "Good Cop" half of PT's life was this wonderful, soft spoken, stubborn but supportive girl we both went to high school with named BJ. PT goes to BJ when she needs to vent; she comes to me when she needs advice. BJ was telling me that she's the mom in our relationship because she will sit there quietly until PT's emotions are spent, and then she will calmly place her thoughts down on the table (while I, the drunken rage-prone father, will always interject as soon as a problem is seen). Is that my place, after all? Or should I adopt BJ's method, without getting rid of ALL my blunt criticism, if that is what she is seeking when she seeks me?

If Rum Punch hadn't approached her friend the way she did, would she have found out about her friend's inner workings at all? Isn't that kind of understanding necessary in a true, honest friendship? What if Rum Punch had held her tongue? What would they have become?

Pondering to the point of exhaustion,
TheDynasty

The Tribal Dynasty

2007-12-26T13:09:00.000-04:00

Hm... do jinxes work?

I rarely speak upon my dating life. I never found it necessary to make a Possible permanent through pixelated text, and I guess it was a way to prevent myself from getting hopes up in case some shit went bad further down the line. Even when the situations stabilized into relationships, I felt uncomfortable writing about them. Throughout my unofficial blogging career, I've kept my "other halves" out of those daily ramblings... all my flings, loverships, infatuations and adorations were suppressed and deflected with stories and rants. Occasionally I'd leak their presence out to you in the form of some agitated poetry, but I've long since lost the passion (read:talent) for that. Well.

Going beneath the surface, my tendency to keep that part of my life a secret from "the world" was just a reflection of my inability to show ...hope ...towards, well, anything. What an odd realization to come to so early in the morning. This blog was never for the readers, it was never for you. My blogs have always been for myself (and if you haven't noticed by now, about myself LOL); it was a way of chronologizing my growth and thought patterns, a way of reminding myself of what my morals and standards and stances were when I became swayed by uncertainty and insecurity. I kept my hopes out of them, because I was too afraid to confront them. The only suggestion of a relationship I'd allow myself would be a reference to its demise, a reminder of its failure and "reality."

Keep doing what I'm doing, and I'll keep getting what I'm getting, right? So -- enough. I'm going to allow myself to hope today. I don't know how long this little kernel of determination will last, and chances are I'll withdraw back into the shade as soon as I hear a loud noise.. but fuck it, yeah? I'm feeling good, so why not.

Tribe (look for him somewhere in this post) and I have been spending some time together lately. I'm not putting all those eggs in this basket again, my dears, don't worry. But the fact of the matter is, I've come to fully accept that I like him, and my arguing nature finally seceded from the fight after 3 years of denial and confusion. I enjoy spending time with him, and figuring him out is very fun. Agitating, and frustrating to say the least... but I like doing it. He's very passive, which is different from what I'm used to. He smiles a lot, and I adore the fact that he giggles. I'm thrilled that we're opening up to each other, and I look forward to taking these baby steps with him. No more watching everyone else sprint ahead, and no more having them wait until I get there.

I asked him out a few .. weeks ago? I don't know, yo, I have a horrible sense of time. Stunned, he said that we should take it where it goes. Normally I would have fallen back, withdrawn into my shell, left it up to him. But this time I'm going to throw in more effort, and wait a little longer to be disheartened. I have to remember that he is a very passive individual. I've known him long enough to understand that he wouldn't hurt me just to hurt me, and he wouldn't string me along for his own ego's sake. I know that he likes me. Things are hectic in both our lives right now, and I'm going to exercise that damn patience I have such a hard time holding on to. He's waited 3 years for me, even when he shouldn't have. Even when he didn't want to. I should be able to do the same.

I'm not going to stop dating, but I'll be real with you right now. I've gotten a few offers, but none of them have appealed to me like that. I'm getting more comfortable with the fact that umm.. that I... *deep breath*... want.. to be... *grimace* with..... him. lol.

"I want to be with him." Whoo. Yeah. Okay. No more denying that now. And if after this whole trial period he decides that he no longer has the capacity to give as much as I'd like him to give -- I do believe I fucked it up for us back in the day -- I'll completely understand, and I'll move on as well. At least I'll know.

*Lifts glass*... hm.

Here's to hoping for tomorrow.

Love,
TheDynasty

Our Children Are Going To Be Assholes, and Don't Touch My F*cking Hat

2007-12-20T02:51:00.000-04:00

I overheard a woman on the train the other day talking about this new children's book that her publishing division at.. um.. "Poppyseed Avenue"... is coming out with. Anyway, this children's book is revolutionary because the characters can now read the story to you -- "so that the parents don't have to! Yeah, it's wild, right?"

My eyes widened as I listened in on the conversation, and I turned down the volume on my iPod. You can't be serious, I thought. Parents are becoming obsolete now, aren't they. Their only purpose is to create us and release us, the rest we'll take care of on our own. Mommy is the automated storybook, and daddy is the cable TV.

I have an unsettling fear of this new generation, yall. Generation X has grown, Generation Y is balancing.. but that Generation Z, we've hit the last letter of the alphabet for a reason. That's the end, man. Kids are just too damn smart nowadays.

I was talking with my good friend IM a while back about her kids. We were stuck on the train over the bridge, so we had a rare moment to speak about the things we forgot to mention during our cigarette breaks at work. She was telling me about her youngest, Doodoos, who is now 7 years old. It is undeniable that he is extremely smart "for his age."

For his age. Really? Because nowadays, 7 year olds program DVD players for their technology-illiterate parents. Nowadays, 7 year olds cut school to hang out with their homies in local parks. Is he too smart for his age? Or his his age just too damn smart altogether?

One of my favorite stories about Doodoos is when he announced to IM that him and his friends started a crew. This was when he was 6, I believe. They gave each other nicknames and everything. IM grins, and says, "what's your street name?"

He crosses his arms, raises his chin. "They call me--" he lifts his hands with authority -- "The Masta Piece." IM crumbles into a fit of laughter, and asks what the other names were. His best friends name, the 2nd-in-command, was "The Dominator."

I laughed my tits off while she was telling me this, but something struck me as odd. Yo... How the fuck does a 6 year old know what "Dominator" even MEANS? Shit, when I was 6, I was learning how to color in the lines!

"I BLAME CABLE!" I declared. "We NEVER had cable at my parent's house. Still don't. My brother's been living there 18 years, and his ass is STILL dumb."

That evening on the train, IM and I were reminiscing about Doodoos again. She was saying that he was smart as soon he came out of her; he must have borrowed the intelligence from both his father and his mama. I tilted my head, then asked...

"Do you think that the kids of this generation are just.. ALL being born smart?" I was thinking about the stories my friends told me about their babies, their neices, their nephews. 9 year olds retaliating in arguments with "that's poetic justice!" (True story!) I was thinking about the incredible intelligence of the few toddlers I've met (shout out to Selena). Maybe it's not environment -- cable, tutoring, being read to -- as much as a revamped continuation of Darwinism? Maybe they are all being born with this incredible sense of perception? The difference could be that intelligence isn't necessarily guaranteed with that newly innate sense. The good ones might grow to be extremely smart, while the bad ones -- the "dumb" ones -- will become expert manipulators. Isn't it undeniable that ALL these fucking toddlers nowadays are too smart for their own damn good?

What now, when on top of cable tv, high speed internet, and hi-tech cell phones being placed in hands not big enough to even hold it properly, these little gremlins now get BOOKS that READ THEMSELVES? Am I bugging out right now?

"Poppyseed Avenue" was something I sat in front of before I fully understood the concept of numbers and colors. That's what The Tranny and Crelmo was there to teach me. My mother read to my brother and me every night (granted, she read to us in Korean, but I did learn how to read that language "by accident" because of her). It developed a bond between the mother and I that can't be severed, regardless of how badly it needs to be at times.

I'm worried. Now, along with this generation of scarily smart embryos, we've got the slew of women who aren't willing to take on the stay-at-home-mother role because 1), it would set feminism back by a million years and 2), they fought too hard as individuals for their careers, their independence, and their freedom. Women now take pride in the fact that they don't cook, they dedicate their lives to their jobs, and we have more degrees between us than ever before. That would be fine if the men switched roles to balance it out.. but they haven't. Our adult society is now a society of self-driven workaholics who fear dependency as much as they fear death.

These children are going to be self-reliant by the time they are 11. Self-reliant, but ignorant of the lessons that will never abide to shifting trends; lessons that will always take their time revealing themselves to their recipents. Yet these 11 year olds will feel like they can make their own decisions, because their parents are no longer role models, authority figures, caretakers. Their parents are helpless babysitters. Roommates. Do you see where I'm going with this?

We're going to grow into this extreme society where on one side, humans will never develop the ability to learn anything on their own. On the other, humans will already know too much too soon, and they will misuse what they have. We're running ourselves into the ground, yall. Yes, be afraid. Do something about it. We need to adjust everything standard -- teaching methods, for example -- to fit and one-up this inevitable outcome. Don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

On another note, a friend of mine just 'dumped' me because I get extremely aggravated -- er, enraged -- every time he puts his hands on my face. Which is a lot of the time. He likes to push buttons.. but on top of that, I found out today that his method of showing affection to his female friends is by doing things like pinching their cheeks or their noses, ruffling their hair. That's cute and all, but fuck no. The first time he stuck his pinky into my ear as a joke, I flipped and cursed him out. You just don't DO that. Shit.

The second time, he grabbed my hat and wiggled the bill around. I had told him over and over and over again that I don't like hands near my face, ON my face, AROUND my face -- and I especially hate it when people touch my hat. Son, you just DONT. DO THAT SHIT.

There were a few more times where he forgot and reached for my face, and each time my temper flared.

Now, I love hanging out with this kid. He is extremely intelligent, funny, kind hearted, and supportive. He's helped me through a lot of my tough times, and I give him nothing but the utmost respect. However.

Last night, as we were parting ways at Union Square, I made a joke about him and we laughed. He took off his hat, shoved it in my face, and shook it around. My smile got stony, my head jerked back, and I pointed at him before I abruptly walked away. I was too heated to even kiss his cheek. HOW many times did I have to tell this dude? Like, for real?

He sent me an email this morning, explaining that he feels like he has to walk on eggshells around me because he never knows what is going to set me off. He doesn't like being afraid to hug me, doesn't like wondering if this time, he's hugged me wrong. While I understand that, I responded that I only react when he gets near my face. I've told him on many occasions that I did not like that. He suggested that we fall back to being email/texting friends, because he does not want to have to censor his actions, and it will be a win/win because I will not feel "disrespected."

I left it alone. I agreed. It made me sad -- but even more, it made me angry. I told him that I was an abused child, that hands on my face trigger an unconscious bullet that tears through my demeanor before I could blink. Instead of flinching and withdrawing, I lash out immediately. Yet, I do my best to keep that rage in check. I don't hit him back, my fists are clenched by my sides. I don't yell, I don't throw a fit. I just get very quiet and ask him not to do it again, warnings in my eyes and all.

It wasn't worth the constant flares, if he wanted that then that's what he will get.

What heated my blood so much was that even he acknowledged our awesome friendship. We have the most amazing, retrospective, intelligent conversations ever. They go on for hours at times, and we learn a lot from each other. We vibe great. But word? Drop all that because of this?

Let me break it down to you, homie.

Actions can be controlled.
Emotions cannot.

You tell me who is in the position to make the most compromise here.

I'm sincerely sorry that this is another friendship lost. But I can't change myself in this situation. I can't. This is an immediate reaction, it's an emotion that can't be suppressed -- which I genuinely try my best to do, again, when I feel the rage bubbling up past my lips -- or controlled. That might take years of therapy.

Or, it could take more conscious efforts from you to not touch my fucking face.

But hey, apparently that's not something you're able or willing to do, you say. So, then, it is what it is. I'm not going to stress about it any longer.

Taken from This Is Not A Blog

2007-12-20T02:47:00.000-04:00

I swear, if I quoted this chick as much as I wanted to, my entire blog would be.. her blog.

Listen to this. Wow.

."Years ago, I came up with the idea that we all choose our problems - whether or not it's consciously. We stick to patterns that are harmful but comfortable, people who hurt us but are familiar, addictions which are dangerous but also routine. We are molded by the problems that we face, and become the people we have to be in order to face them. And maybe it's because we're women, or because we're human, or because we're us, but we need problems to get by.

We are untrusting of situations that are "too smooth." We feel uneasy when things have been quiet for too long. We have become too accustomed to being "problem solvers" and feel inept and idle when there are no problems to solve. So whenever life seems too simple, we come up with questions we already have the answers to, insecurities to hang over our heads, doubts that we instinctively know are useless. That's how we feel like ourselves. We're like donuts; the holes are useless and might even take away some of our substance, but without them we feel awkward."

Wow.

Taken From Jarrod Halsey

2007-12-19T01:19:00.000-04:00

"...when you get into a relationship, you don’t just see how your feelings will be as you go along. That’s for the “undefined” relationship. In a real relationship, you go full force. You put yourself out there. You let those walls come down because what’s the point of a heart if no one ever gets to shine their light on it?

...relationships, ALL relationships, take hard work, sacrifice and compromise. And because of that, I will never take another relationship lightly again."

Beautiful. I'll raise my glass to that. This was a hard lesson learned, and one I will take to heart. I've come to see that the way I've been living and loving was more damaging than uplifting, and my bar has been set much higher. I'd like to thank those in my life who helped me come to this realization. I'd like to thank all those that I've lost, and pushed away; I'd like to thank all those that have pushed me away, and those who have stuck by my side. Especially those who have stuck by my side. It means the world to me that you are still here. Your patience and your guidance is never ignored, although it may take a very long time to absorb.

This will be a year of very intense, life changing resolutions.

I will promise to grow as much as I could. I promise to always be open to change, but I also promise to hold on to my identity while I shape it. I let it go too much this year, and I ran down too many different paths. I forgot me in all of it.

I promise to stop fearing the future so much. I promise to stop hurting from my past.

I cannot promise that I won't make an assload of mistakes along the way. But I do promise to learn as much as I could from them. All the mistakes in my life have been, in the end, wonderful.

I'd like to take this moment to apologize to everyone I've hurt in my growing process. Maybe not for my actions, and not for my decisions; I do apologize that it was me that made you feel that pain. But don't worry, Karma will get me back. ;)

I'd like to thank each and every single person that's ever dicked me over. You are the reason I'm here today. Thank you.

Last but not least -- thank you, you know who you all are, for looking past the frustrations and seeing that I have a good heart. Every time you say that to me, it means a lot. I need to be reminded that my efforts aren't in vain, and hearing you say that gives me the drive to push on.

Thank you for having dreams. Thank you for allowing me to help you achieve them. In the end, that's all I ever want to do.

(And Halsey, thank you for letting me steal your post. Even though you'll talk mad shit about that later LOL)

Love,
TheDynasty

Who AM I?!

2007-12-18T16:51:00.000-04:00

I've been turned off by cigarettes and meat.
I've stopped smoking bud on weekdays.
I haven't wanted to have sex in a month.

Unless I'm pregnant and my period just doesn't it know yet, I think my body's forcing me to grow up, whether I'm going to comply or not.

This is the strangest thing in the world. I wonder how long it will last?

Stolen From A Super Duper Top Secret Forums Board

2007-12-17T18:22:00.000-04:00

Not really

I recognize myself in a bit of this. Don't deny that you see the letters in your name spelled out too, lol. An interesting excerpt, from the perspective of The Nice Guy:

Part I:
In the dating game WOMEN have the power to chose what mate they want. They know what kind of man they are getting with but they choose him anyway because he was "cute, fun, exciting and/or dangerous". Men do not have that option.

THEY CHOOSE THE PLAYERS/JERKS/THUG MEN.

You always hear females bitching about wanting a "real" man but they turn their backs on them. It's only after the females throw his "respect and caring" for them in his face that drives men to distraction, that men become uncaring, NOT because they are, but because after trying their best and failing to live up to the UNREALISTIC expectations of the woman they truly care about, men realize that their feelings never matter, only HER agenda. What SHE WANTS. It's only about HER.

Now if the guy is overly good-looking with a bank account to match, has a 10' penis and can sex like a Greek God, has an IQ of 150 with a "bad boy" edge women will always treat them like kings. But for average "real" guys it's much different.

A man who dares to complain about this system is written off as a bitter misogynist, having a bad attitude and is rejected. That's another repetition of the cycle because he opens up his true feelings, as he is SUPPOSED to do, and is punished for it if isn't the type of TRUTH women want to hear.

Every time a Nice/good guy talks about why women don't want him AFTER HE DOES EVERYTHING THEY ASK AND CLAIM TO WANT. Females will ALWAYS blame the man and NOT themselves. Instead they will tell him he is rejected not because he's a Nice/good man but because of some trivial flaw.

Every nice/good guy hears women talk about how wonderful they are, and how they would make some woman very happy, The nice/good guy is inclined to believe these words,yet those same females don't go out of their way to date them or even fix them up. Instead women are eager to fix a shallow jerk/player up with other women. Meanwhile, the man who is what women CLAIM to want is ignored. The conclusion that women are lying to him is almost impossible to refute.

Part II: The Change
If he stops caring, stops letting his desires control his emotions, stops going out of his way for women, and stops giving them the benefit of the doubt, they will forever try to change him back into the man they ignored in the first place. If females wanted nice/good men, they would select nice/good men in the first place. It is obvious that females are less interested in seeking out a nice/good guy to begin with, and are more interested in the DRAMA created by the challenge of turning a jerk/player back into the nice/good guy she NEVER wanted. Good/Nice guys are told not to change a thing despite their miserable results, to keep up hope that things will turn around, and one day they will meet that mythical right woman [HA!], who makes all the pain worthwhile. So they sit back and watch as all their jerk/players friends seem to pull women and sex off a conveyor belt.

"You'll find her"...."Hang in there"....."Just be yourelf" Nice/good guys are told over and over and over again.The years roll by and yet they are still alone or if best stuck as "Just friends" and Cuddle Bitches of females.

The typical canned response given to good guys by women?

"He will get the women in the end [when she's in her late 30's] but what guy wants a women after a bunch of bad boys/players and thugs went through her and now she's old, her beauty is fading and she prob has kids? So she NOW runs to the Nice/good guy? Sorry, but noone wants to be an after-thought of damaged goods. If it takes her THAT LONG to figure out she wanted a nice/good guy, she prob never did and is only NOW going after him because her Bio-clock is ticking and she knows the player/thugs don't want to have anything to do with her. She runs to him NOT by choice but by necessity.

Part III: The Last Resort
Eventually, the Nice Guy/Good guy learns not to open up, and to be jaded, cynical, and distant. He's finally says "FUCK THIS!"

And thanks to the power of the internet, he goes and finds some REAL ANSWERS. He soon finds info like "The Ladder Theory" and "The Player's Guide at fastseduction.com". Becoming a player/jerk wasn't his the first idea, it was his LAST RESORT. Sadly, being a decent normal guy ISN'T enough anymore. Now, It seems females RESPOND MORE to his new persona. He slowy becomes the jerk, on his way to being a player.

The players/jerks are just regular guys who have been walked on a bit too much. One thing that is clear is that many of them are not thrilled with what they have to do in order to get a girlfriend and laid, and who can blame them? When the same man who is rejected as a nice/good guy is treated like royalty when he becomes a thug/jerk or player, how can women expect any man to put up with that? They might as well just drop the charade and tell men that this is what they want.

This is one of reasons why men become jerks/players: they get tired of denying their sexuality, tired of worrying about whether or not women will approve of them, they stop trying to hide their desires, they get sick of hearing "You're a great guy but.."they are tired of hearing women give them the SAME bullshit advice that contradicts their OWN actions towards men. Soon they stop caring about how anyone reacts to them, start caring only about whether they get laid or not, and the females see this as a display of manhood , something worthy of a sexual reward.

Part IV: The Now
Females go with what feels good NOW, even when they talk about and claim to wanting long-term happiness. They will violate their own selection principles by overreacting to something the jerk/player says, something they think sets him apart from other men, but which in reality was something that he knew would make females feel good and more likely to want to fuck him.

The reality is women, just like men follow their primal instincts FIRST. Women just call it "Following your heart" because it sounds better than "Follow your pussy". And many of them lack the self-control to NOT date these guys in much the same way that they seem to lack the self-control necessary to not eat that pint of chocolate ice cream even though they know they're going to be bltching about their weight later. And since they're women, they can just go and say it was the man's fault all along, right?.

In dating, the same thing happens, with a man constantly finding himself at a fork in the road where acting like a good guy will doom the relationship, while acting like a jerk/player will get him immediate sex and the women. And until that reward system changes, until females stop trusting everything they HEAR that they want to believe, until they start getting turned on by honesty and decency the way they get turned on by height, money, and physical strength or status, it will not change.

And it's very safe to say that this change will NOT come in your lifetime.

___________________________
Um... should we do something about this? Ladies? A part of me only wants to disagree because it's my duty as a female to stick up for the vagina brigade. But... too much of this rings true. So, what do we do about it?

The Mondays

2007-12-17T15:12:00.001-04:00

Remixed.

You know, for a writer I have a horrible time getting my words out in person. Something about a keyboard gives me the ability to think while I “speak,” therefore getting my point across in a dignified and straightforward manner… but in real life, I can’t filter shit successfully out of my mouth. Things always come out too harsh, too mean, too abrupt. Damn.

I've been doing well in changing my bad habits. Yes, it's a slow process, and yes, the people closest to me have banged their heads in frustration at my sloth-like speed… but to me the progress is huge, considering. I've been running on this ethereal adrenaline burst, because I've taken my life off of cruise control and I'm slowly learning how to drive my own way around. Wow, nobody told me about this.

Hopefully, the tendencies I have that held me back my whole life will fade – maybe even disappear completely – as I get older. I can’t fix them all at once. Shit, I wish I could. I’m just as impatient as you are, but that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. My own race to get ahead in life… come to find out that nobody was rushing me but me.

I recently made a decision to distance myself from the factors in my life that make me the most insecure. Who’da thunk it, that sex was one of them? It’s not my abilities that caused me doubt myself – I love sex, and I love that I’m good at it – but I had to stop insisting that I never got attached to man behind the (good) penis. It was an addiction, and it was one that was easily satisfied. I’ve always known that I lacked will power, and I’ve always been the type to cater to an urge as soon as possible. I spoiled my body, and in turn I completely neglected my heart. (I know, that was extremely cheesy, but that’s the truth.)

I had to take a whole lot of steps back from a few people as well. Even if it wasn’t their entire fault, I found that I was too emotionally invested in their reactions to me. Granted, my decision to cut them off did seem a little hasty, but when does it ever not come as a surprise? It was a decision I struggled with for a while in that overanalyzing way I do (I believe that it all boils down to this: I am extremely indecisive, and I weigh all the pros and cons before I commit myself to one side). Their lack of reciprocation to me always ended up hurting worse than it should have, and it was something I did not want to take on as a “project.” I could have spent time explaining what they were doing wrong, but shit. Maybe they weren’t doing anything wrong. Maybe we were just on two completely different levels. Either way, it wasn’t anything I felt I should – or could – handle or accept right now. And you can be mad that I didn’t “consult with you first,” but really think about it. Is this a situation that two people can plan together? And if I had brought it up with you, would you have bothered to compromise? Or are you just mad that I didn’t give you a chance to come to this conclusion yourself, to make this a mutual “breakup”?

It was brought up that I have the habit of running away from the things I don’t want to face; I absolutely agree. I skittered back when I realized that there was nothing I could ask you to change in yourself that would make me happy, nothing I haven’t already tried asking for when we were on good terms. Thus I decided to fall back – or off – completely, until I could figure out what it was in myself that caused such discontent. If there was nothing in myself that could have been changed, then we would have had to part ways anyway. I am sincerely sorry that you took it so badly, but isn't understanding the first step to healing? You didn't even bother.

Sure I know that it wasn’t all about me. Of course you could have been going through your own things. That doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t give me the respect you give your other friends. That doesn’t change the fact that I was being treated like a demotion. In the end, “it is what it is.”

I’m happy with myself, because I’m always willing to change. I’m always willing to grow. Despite what you think, I’m always looking for ways to be better and change the situation I’m in. It’s a process. What about you though?

Only a hero would accuse the victim for playing the role of the victim. Do you really believe that that's all I do? I acknowledge my faults and my weaknesses, probably more than you do. I admit when a consequence is of my own doing. Don't I? Do I really blame the world? Out of habit, I always look to see how I fucked it up first. That’s not the issue right now. We all handle things differently, and unfortunately, this whole Having Faith In Myself thing is new. That baby is only about 4 years old, and I still don’t feel comfortable taking full credit for her because I stepped on a lot of hearts to get her in my arms. Throughout my entire childhood and adolescence I was a mental mess. I was terrified of everything – everything except getting hurt. I was able to shoulder pain with barely a blink, and I was able to let it roll down my back. That was my duty. That’s how I was raised. My house was a house built on low self-esteem. It’s hard to let all of that go.

Things changed – as they always do – when I began to settle down in that world of confidence and self-reliance. I couldn’t find a comfortable spot. The smallest thing will send me on a downward spiral back into my childhood, because none of that was real. It was acquired. It was a prized possession I was terrified of losing.

Is that pitiful? Yes. But will I admit it? Absolutely. Having faith in yourself is what gets you through the hardest times. People having faith in you will get you there faster. I’m used to having neither of that, and I have a hard time believing that it exists when it’s there. I’ve apologized for being so oblivious, and I’m promising to try and never do that again. However, when I recognize hurtles I cannot get over, and when I recognize hurtles I am not ready for, I will run around the track a few more times before I come back to it. Nobody can push me into doing something before I’m ready, and right now I’m working on building the strength to push myself.

I'm having a great Monday. The weather is the coldest and meanest it's been this season, but I've got those rose-tinted glasses on. I know it's too early for me to tell, but I've been doing really good so far. I've been taking control over my will power. I've been reasoning my way through some big decisions. I've been making them based on practicality and future rather than imnmediate benefit. I'm getting there, bitches, and I'm so happy that I'm fighting this fight.

Well. See you in the rearview.

The Limit

2007-12-16T22:19:00.000-04:00

Ok. Let me clarify.

Every relationship -- friendship, lovership, etc -- has a limit, right? It's about what you can and cannot accept in the end, right? That's all it was.

It's been said to me, and I understood it then, too. It's about what I can take. I understand that not all friendships can be at the level I expect them to. But, I also understand my own capabilities. I cannot be any less of a friend than I am. Sure, I can reciprocate to a certain extent, I can filter out some of that "good friend"ness -- but I can't just be an asshole. I don't know how to be an asshole to someone that didn't do anything wrong to me, other than be an asshole. I can only dismiss them.

Vengeance is really not in my nature. I'm not trying to be mean or spiteful. I just cannot accept the level of friendship I'd have to bring myself down to. Right now, I can only surround myself with people who are gonna bring me up. Whether it's your fault or mine, the fact is that this -ship isn't gonna work. Is that wrong?

Hell. I have endless patience for people who genuinely want to change and work for it. But if that's not an option.. what else can I do, hun? No disrespect. Really.

Oh, so THAT'S why!!

2007-12-16T17:12:00.000-04:00

A woman I've come to truly respect suggested going on a period of celibacy, saying that it really helps put things into perspective.

Hm. It's unintentionally been about a month without sex. I'm doing good. I don't think I've ever gone this long without having a phone number handy for such occasions. But I'm doing okay. I've turned down sex from people I had history with, and I have no problems with turning down sex from people I barely know. I revisited a few of my friendships, and with (good) sex out of the picture (because it's only the good sex that impedes our judgement, LOL) I've come to see them for what they really are.

Moral of the story: Sex allows you to make excuses for unjustifiable behavior.

This is what the battered and the wise have been warning us "free spirited" young'ns about for the longest, huh? LOL

Well, the best lessons learned are the ones you learn on your own. I'm so stubborn that it takes me a lot longer to get to where you are now.

Grin. Thank you for your guidance.

Love,
The Dynasty

Taking a Few Eggs Out of The Basket

2007-12-16T10:17:00.000-04:00

You are just not worth the effort.

When we agreed to be friends, I put a lot in. I did my part, as promised. Maybe the difference between me and you is, I genuinely wanted to enter this friendship, without any selfish reason or intention. I like to surround myself with good people, and because of our history, I knew that you were good people.

Well, I can't anymore. I'm done with you. I do require a certain level of reciprocation, and you're not anywhere near that level.

Granted, I don't have to dead the whole situation. If I asked for advice, I'd get suggesions of Demotion; maybe I'd be told to mirror a few of your unfavorable actions, to teach you "that lesson."

But naw, the way you treat me is the way I treat a Person I Don't Like. I'm not wasting my time with PIDL behavior, I might as well just cut you out if it's at that level already. I don't have the capacity to have that kind of negativity on my conscious.

Is that really how you treat your friends? Maybe that's normal, and maybe I treat mine with too high of a regard -- but hell, that's what I require. I need support, I need consideration. A thank you when I send you something that reminds me of you. I didn't have to do that, but I did. At least an effort to lisen when I'm breaking down in front of you. Some enthusiasm when it's my turn to talk. Maybe you could stop cancelling plans for aint-shit people. I'm tired of the way you put your "best friends" on the back burner. Stop fucking burning your bridges.

This goes out to more than one. I tolerated this from you guys because I knew you were a good person. But, I realized that you're not a good person to ME. So enough of this, really. I'm being treated like a demotion, when I'm sincerely going out of my way to be a true friend. I have better people to pour my love onto. You don't deserve it, and you should know better.

Now, this doesn't make you any less of an intelligent, witty, attractive individual. It doesn't make you any less kind hearted, or well intended, or worthy of the world. It won't make you a bad boyfriend. It just makes you a horrible, horrible friend.

If you read this and see yourself, take it as you want it. I'm past warnings, this is not one of them. I'm not posting this for response or reaction. I've been relatively straightforward with how I felt about your actions -- and with how they made me feel -- on more than one occasion. I even approached you acknowledging that it could have been my own misunderstanding, and I asked for clarification. Did I really have to bother twice? You should know who I am by now, there aren't any more guessing games. This was a second chance for you, and a generous one, considering.

If this termination was what you wanted, you picked a coward's way out. That's like coming in to work every day and fucking up on a regular so that your company could fire you, rather than gathering the balls to quit. If it's NOT what you wanted -- then homie, you need to figure yourself out. It's hard for me to believe that your actions weren't played on purpose, because you -- especially you -- know exactly what you're doing when you're doing it. From you, that was a message. But here is my benefit of the doubt, okay? I don't know what high horse you're riding on, and I hope somebody knocks you off that shit soon.

I started out hurt and a little stunned at the way you were treating me. I couldn't understand why. You were condescending, and you were rude... SO rude. Baby, I don't deserve that. I didn't do anything to you. How can you promise friendship, without holding up your part?

I tolerated it from you the way I would have tolerated it coming from a good friend. But.. you're not. You never were.

You tell me you need a friend. You tell me I'm the only one you got. Well, it's a shame you didn't act like it. Maybe you should put more effort into those who are actually close to you, that actually care about your well being, that actually took the time out to let you in. Don't you realize how similar we are? Don't you realize how much of a struggle it was to allow you back into my life?

It's the little things you do that show me you DON'T care. It's time I stopped ignoring those little things.

*Takes eggs out of basket*
I'm not making this same mistake again.

I'd be happier without you both. Funny how a little bit of self-confidence can help you make the right decisions, huh? LOL.. really puts things into perspective, answers why I was holding on to you. Hope is an extension of insecurity. I forgot that it's different from faith.

For the record, I never lost an ounce of faith in you. You still have the potential to be an amazing person.

Love,
The Dynasty

The Flutter grin

2007-12-15T22:58:00.000-04:00

I had the best Friday I've had in years.

I took a few first steps in a lot of things, and I'm using this weekend to recuperate and come down from such an unfamiliar -- yet extremely comfortable -- high. I am so content, and so happy, and just... :)

I'm also nervous. I'm a bit afraid of how much I want this.

But you know what? I'll rest easy. No need to give myself mental hemroids by straining to much. Breathe, and let it fall. Ha.

Silver Lining

2007-12-14T11:45:00.000-04:00

Hello,

A positive post today.

I look and feel absolutely stunning! *Preens*

Happy Holidays,
The Dynasty

Take It Slow

2007-12-13T17:34:00.000-04:00

Maybe 8 steps back.

What I must master first: Preparation.

The mental reflects the physical reflects the mental. I have to master the physical first, because I know that my surroundings greatly effect my internal state.

I must get into the habit of preparing for tomorrow the night before. Yeah, nobody taught me this. Packing my bags with the necessary items -- bills that must be paid, phone numbers that must be called, etc.

I must get into the habit of cleaning up after myself in smaller circles rather than letting it build up into a huge mess (this is true as a metaphor for many things in my life and heart, as well). Walking back to the kitchen to place a spoon in the sink. Folding a shirt on the floor over a chair. Tossing out napkins after I'm done with them. If you had any idea of how much of a slob I was...

I already have the habit of writing down my necessary To Do's -- be it on my wrist, or a scrap of receipt, or a napkin (my memory has never been that great) -- but I have to get into the habit of looking at it twice. What's the point of having a schedule book if you're never going to open it?

I must get into the habit of actually following through.

I did good for one day. This is my second, and I've already faltered.

*Cracks neck*.. time to get back on the horse. I can do this.

Step 2: Falling out of procrastination. Oh boy.

*Rubs Oil All Over My Body"

2007-12-12T14:16:00.000-04:00

ELLE: You also once described your dad and uncle as "pimps" who taught you how to communicate with women. What did they tell you?

TERRENCE HOWARD: They were just pimps in the figurative sense, in that they were both very worldly with women. They taught me that in every relationship, the person least interested in maintaining it is going to dominate it, because they'll never compromise. So you have to always maintain that position of least interest, and you'll always control the relationship.

Deep Fried Frenz

2007-12-10T13:55:00.001-04:00

What are friends for, if not to use?

Do we not fill each other's voids?

Do we not come to each other to calm our own insecurities?

Do we not ask for advice when we can't come to our own conclusions?

Do we not need each other most after breakups, deaths, fallouts?

What really defines a friendship? A healthy one? An unhealthy one? Does the amount of love between two people change the foundation of the friendship? Or does it just allow you to make excuses for the other?

Can you end a friendship over a disagreement of their actions outside of your world, regardless of how good of a friend they are? Or should you endure something you disagree with, because that does not affect how good that person is to you? For example: Relationship choices, drugs, career?

In that same breath, if you endure something that is against your morals in order to save a friendship.. is that a reflection of a good heart? or a needy one?

Are you friends with them because THEY need you? Or because YOU need them? Which is worse?

What is a good friend to you?

Taken from This Is Not A Blog

2007-12-07T16:40:00.001-04:00

"And that's how I started talking about people and how they can't be trusted, and how I've always had so much on my mind concerning the nature of human beings. I trust blindly, because that is my way of trusting completely. I love blindly, because it's the easiest way to fall in and out of love and know that I'm giving all I have to give.

And yet, despite all of my blind actions, I know instinctively that there is a nugget of my self hidden deep within me, and that nothing negative - failure, betrayal, destitution, hunger, etc - can take it away from me. It is this nugget of self that I keep hidden and do not share, and if by some stroke of fate I found happiness in a particular situation and vowed that I would stay in that situation for as long as I live - with a lover, with a spouse, with friends, with my station in life, with my career, etc. - I would give away that nugget of self. My identity would be in whatever I vowed to encompass, and if that thing ever went away, I wouldn't know who I am."

This might be the root of my "fear of committment." All of my stretched out ramblings compressed into a linear 2 paragraphs. Wow. My mind has been boggled.

Regression, Relationships, and Masturbation

2007-12-05T11:30:00.000-04:00

I've disabled comments again. It makes me feel better about myself. Ha!

I came to a few hard conclusions while staring out the train window this morning. I couldn't figure out if it was because I hadn't really slept in the past few weeks, or if it's because I generally get moody when there is no sun... but at that moment, I recognized the heavy blanket of Blah I've been enveloped in lately as misery.

Cry me a river, right? I know. But it's a big deal for me, because I've been struggling to remain optimistic for a really, really long time. I suddenly ran out of energy.

Son, I was miserable. Not for any particular reason, I was just scowling at the scenery like it did something trife to me. Then the domino tipped, and everything fell into place... This is the same Misery that I have been pushing away for years. This is the reason why I've been desperately searching for distractions, and stumbling into bouts of depression or anxiety when I am without them. Weed, men, friends, internet, tv, reading, music. It's time to face the storm bare-assed -- Admit it, bitch, you are unhappy. You've BEEN unhappy. And nobody can change that but yourself.

1) I have been scrambling to be an independent woman since I was 14. Since I first realized that I had absolutely no support behind me, since I first realized that my family was barely able to hold themselves together (much less me), and since I first realized that good friends are as temporary as good weather... I became determined to do it all on my own. I started climbing. This is what took me 7 years to figure out: you cannot be truly independent if you've never, ever learned to stop needing others for support. It sounds so simple ("Yeah Dynasty, I could have told you that") but hey, fuck you. I've fared well when it came to physical independence, but I've always relied on emotional support. I mean, I started so young. At 14, you NEED the people around you. That's why friends have always held the highest status in my life -- they ARE my family. I need them to constantly support me in order to be confident, safe, and secure. I never graduated from that state of mind, because I skipped the entire process altogether. Little did I know.

All the people I've gotten along with in my past were large groups of male friends and small groups of women that were similarly "rejected" by their female peers for reasons that varied, but fell into the same bin. They rejected us because they perceived us to be sluts, or reckless, or plain ol' bitch. We embraced all those labels because if we didn't, we would hurt all the time. More importantly, we knew each other better than they'd ever know us -- the incredible intelligence that spewed from our mouths, the hearts of gold that shone hardest when melted, and the undying loyalty we shared with those we formed bonds with.

In retrospect, we shared the negatives with each other as well. We had the same insecurities. We had the same impatience. We kept ourselves trapped in this alternate universe where colors, genders, and roles flipped to its opposite, its compliment. We took on the "male" role in a lot of relationships. And we were all secretly very unhappy.

This was the one thing all of us had in common -- no matter what era, what clique, what age group these denied women were in -- we were completely, utterly, and painfully unable to trust. We formed bonds with each other to support each other, because we needed a family. We were women who were dying to love, women whose nature it WAS to love... but the only people we felt comfortable giving that love to were each other. We had no concept of soul mate, because OUR soul mates came in packages of curves, heels and attitude.

The fellas. The fellas embraced me like one of their own. It was wonderful, to be able to show the asshole in me that's always itched to come out, and be somehow respected for it. I befriended my first group of male friends at 12 going on 13, when I was going through some hard shit in my life. They took me under their wing and it was almost like I had a band of overprotective brothers. It felt wonderful, and safe, and it was.. family (if you ignored the fact that they would occasionally try to sleep with me LOL). They shaped my first steps into identity. Why wouldn't I believe that straightforwardness and overt sexuality will get me into their hearts? I was perceptive at 13, but I didn't have enough intelligence to apply that into logic. I was just hungry, and this family fed me.

Well, now I'm legally an adult. I went through most of my adolescence believing that I was mature beyond my years, but today I realized that I was wrong. I was simply very perceptive.

Those friends, I should add, were also older than me. As far as I could remember, since I entered high school, I've always been the youngest in every group of friends I became close with. I watched them go through the phases everyone SHOULD go through, and I observed the results rather than experience them. Thus, I came to build my defenses early. I stood by the docks, and never learned what swimming felt like. I only saw what it was to drown.

Since I moved back into my parents house, the mantra I've been repeating to myself during the hardest of its times is, "You are taking two steps back to move four steps forward." So why not do that with it all?

I was trying so hard to be a grown woman that I never had a chance to be.. a girl. I didn't complete phase 2, and I jumped straight into phase 4. If there's anything about myself I've learned this year, it's that I am not one of those people that can do that. I can't enroll into a Spanish 6 class and "figure out" the content of Spanish 1 through 5. I cannot become a runner unless I master jogging first. I HAVE to start from step 1, I have to thoroughly understand and complete step 1, before I can proceed to step 2. Otherwise I will be unprepared. Otherwise I will fail. I've been fighting my own limitations.

I need to complete phase 2. I need to explore the little girl in me again. There are things about being a woman I've mastered -- the art of fellatio is sadly my finest example -- but dating? Cooking? Socializing? Ettiquette? Fashion? Humility? Shit, I've just avoided it until now because I claimed it "wasn't my thing." But I'm manning up goddamn it -- I've been too pussy to explore those fields. I just insisted I didn't need them because I thought I was comfortable with who I was.

Lies.

2) Dating. The topic of dating and its importance has been floating around everywhere lately. So of course, being the person that I am, I grabbed onto that thought and wrapped my life around it, to see how it fits. Well, it didn't.

I've never really dated before. From the moment I lost my virginity, my experiences with men have either been FWB (friends with benefits) or "relationships." There was barely room for courting. There was no dating. Even in my relationships, the longest which was 5 years, we skipped right past the nervous fluttering stage of "getting to know each other gently" and launched into interviews, revealing stories, exposing our worsts. We always saw each other in our comfortable clothes. We woke up to each other as much as we could. We didn't go out. We "settled down."

Honestly, I think I kept it that way. If I really wanted something different, all i would have had to do was ask, and every one of those men would have done it for me. They would have taken me out. Invited me out. If I gave more, I would have gotten back more. But I guess I was "comfortable," or rather, I thought I was. I guess that was my definition of "relationship." I guess that's why I was never happy in one.

None of my boyfriends and I "dated." We be'd. We would get so comfortable, and it would stay that way and stale. We'd watch tv, we'd smoke, we'd fuck. We'd spend all our time at the other person's house. We'd catch a movie, but only because we both want to see it. We'd go out to eat, but that would be because we're tired of sandwhiches or takeout. We'd fall into that "being alone together" category -- you know, the one where both of you are in the same room swimming in "Not Awkward" silence ('peaceful' isn't what I'd call it) at all times -- within the first month. It seems that my relationships were more about securing another beam to my support system, and not about finding someone that truly made me happy. Not about making my partner happy.

Well, I'm done with that.

I was thinking about my past -ships. There is a guy that's been my FWB for the past couple of years now, we've seen each other on and off. We'll call him Tribe. Tribe and I had these really great moments... there were times where we'd talk for hours, just lying on our backs; our heads would be pressed together while our feet stuck out in opposite directions. We'd absently play with each others fingers and just tell mad stories, spin off of each other's jokes. We had the same fashion sense, humor, sarcasm. We followed each other throughout history without even knowing it. Apparently, we went to the same junior high school, had the same art teacher. We went to the same high school, but I didn't really know him then either. I caught a glimpse of him my junior year, and crushed hard for about 3 minutes. I never really saw him again. When our worlds finally collided, I got nervous. We slipped into an FWB scenario after establishing a friendship, and soon we were just lovers, nothing else. When I tried to spend some time with him outside of the bedroom, plans kept changing so I decided not to push it further. We stopped messing around for a large span of time, but then we bumped into each other at a train station neither of us frequented often. Turns out, he worked across the street from me. Things picked up again where they left off.

Now, I didn't pursue a relationship with Tribe because I was with someone else at the time, closing the second half of my 5-year. He didn't try to pursue one with me either, so I figured it was a mutual understanding and left it where it was. I had no problems having feelings for someone and not letting them know how deep it ran. Perhaps it was because I had a fear of testing the beams, lest the whole structure fall -- maintenance has never been my strongest facet. Either way, I was single for a year before I entered into another relationship, and between that time we were still pretty distant with each other. We talked, and luckily our schedules were constantly conflicting. Out of respect to my boyfriend I chose to phase him out. On top of that.. there was something missing. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that what I loved about Tribe would still not be enough to make me completely happy.

Fast forward some time later and it turned out that Tribe HAD wanted to be in a relationship with me from the start, but by then it was too late. He thought that it was not what I wanted, and he didn't want to ruin what we had by asking for more. By the time he confessed that to me, I was already happy in the relationship I was in, and I told him that it wouldn't be right to leave it. It broke my heart that we were both wading in the same ocean, wishing that the other would come rescue us all along.

Before the recent relationship, I had something wonderful with a person who is now a really good friend of mine (we'll call him Pretty... although he looks nothing like New York's Pretty, he IS damn beautiful). It was another scenario where the friendship developed into a lovership, and I liked him a lot. This was different from what Tribe offered me; this was a real friendship, combined with the giddiness that most only feel during the courting process. His texts made me smile, no matter what the content. I was always laughing during our conversations. I genuinely craved to spend time with him, I yearned to support him, I found him so pretty and witty and bright. We had a falling out that turned out to be a huge misunderstanding, but by the time we came to that conclusion, we had already slain each other to pieces. I would have loved to be in a relationship with him, but we both knew that it wouldn't be right. I swallowed the heartache and moved on.

But guess what he told me, yall? He said that I was everything a girlfriend should be, and that I was good to him. He told me that he wanted to be in a relationship with me but he thought that it wasn't what I wanted. He didn't want to ruin what we had by asking for more. Does that shit sound familiar to you??? Ha! Double whammy! Lather, rinse, repeat. Wading in ocean, searching for rescue, if only we had opened our mouths.

I have a LOT of learning to do when it comes to relationships. I know that if either Tribe or Pretty approached me today asking me to be their girlfriend, we would fall into that same pattern I've been reeling around in since adolescence. I realized that as much as I liked Tribe (I once believed I could have been in love with him, but I guess even then I recognized that it was simply borderline infatuation), I realized that I don't KNOW him. At all. I knew him on the terms that FWBs know each other. I don't know him as a close friend, I don't know him as a boyfriend, hell I barely know him as a lover. I don't know how good he can be to me, I don't know how bad. I don't know if he reads books. I don't know about his family. If he wants to pursue this with me, even with our history, I will have to ask him to court me. Take me out. Prove to me that it will be worth it. I can't have trust issues and then dive into anything without demanding that they show me I can trust them; that's exactly what I did with my last relationship, and the ones before that.

Two steps back, people.

As far as Pretty goes... him and I are going to remain friends. I will probably always be a little wistful at what could have been, but that's old bones now. I'd love to develop my friendship with him to its highest potential. I also realized that while I genuinely enjoy his person as a whole, he hasn't really done anything to prove that he will be good to me. He's a good friend, and he's a GREAT person. He has a beautiful heart. But I don't know how good of a boyfriend he will be. If he ever changes his mind, of course I will give it a try. But we'd have to.. we'd have to court. We'd have to date. I'll never know until I'm there, because no matter how close we are as friends, it's always different when you add the prefix to it.

This is a huge shift in standards for me.

There should be higher expectations when it comes to relationships.

I will remember that.

3) Spinning off of long ass #2, I will try to exercise will power when it comes to sex as well. Horniness is a human condition. Get used to it. Don't rape someone you could possibly have a good future with just because it's been three weeks since the last time you got laid (true story! LOL!). Sex does ruin everything -- wait, let me rephrase that.

Sex doesn't ruin everything. Sex cements everything. I've noticed that the level of personal development you achieve with someone will pretty much STAY there if you introduce sex too early into the relationship. (Yeah, Dynasty, I could have told you that! Well, fuck you too.) Pretty and I could be light years away from now if we had waited. Tribe and I would probably be cozy and content, if we had circled each other as potential mates and not as potential gushy stuffers from the start. My most recent ex and I would probably be on much better terms, if I had not been so impatient with my needs. So.. the Dynasty is gonna relax. The Dynasty is gonna figure out how to masturbate properly, because FWB situations fuck up if they're ever as intense as mine were. LOL

I love loverships. I really really love them because to me, that's the realest. The problem was that neither my partners nor myself communicated enough to give that lovership a chance to grow. I learned that loverships should be regarded like a temp-to-perm position, not as a fixed state of being. What does it say about you, if you go entry level and never climb up? You either never grow, or you become extremely restless and unhappy. Either way it's a lose lose.

Thank you, all, for that experience. I've overanalyzed it the way I do, and now I will move on to the next phase of growth.

Also, I'm one tentative step closer to making my final decision about my major and school. Stay tuned.

You can't spell "progress" without "assrape"

2007-12-04T12:27:00.000-04:00

You know what? I've been way too humbled by life to be able to write the way I used to. Give me a minute, I'm learning.

Love,
The Dynasty

Dr Creflo A Dollar gives me two reasons why I should never have (re)started blogging

2007-11-22T11:46:00.000-04:00

My brother and I were sipping on some green in our cold ass living room, flipping through the few channels we had (let me tell you now, not having cable at 3AM on a Wednesday night is probably the hardest thing you'll ever have to go through in your life. There's nothing but informercials on, promising you success and money and weight loss; you look at yourself and realize that you ARE now a part of their fat, poor, and unsuccessful target audience. Fuck you, TV). He stops on an evangelist broadcast, and puts down the remote.

"Yo, actually, this guy is pretty good. Like he says some really sick shit sometimes."

I squirmed a bit, but shrugged. It's not that I'm against God in any shape or form, but I mean... God preached kindness and humility. MAN preaches ignorance and hypocricy. Over time I've developed a problem with churches, and religion is just the umbrella it crouches snugly under.

Either way, I stared calmly at the screen while this guy -- his name is Creflo Dollar (hee hee, "Dollar") -- listed the ways to free yourself from hurt. It was in the middle of the program, but I paused because it kind of hit me in the gut, you know? If you replaced the 'religious' words with a simple "good" and "evil," it was like he was giving genuine advice on life. It caught me by surprise because the conversation I had with my friend earlier that night almost reflected what he was preaching; my dude is pretty much against religion as a whole but still lives by a personal code of morality. After speaking with him, I stopped hurting, and felt better (hence, the previous post).

Listening to Dr Dollar (hee hee) did, oddly enough, make me feel incredibly pensive about blogging again. Here's why. He said:

1) Don't ever wear your heart on your sleeve.
He said, wearing your heart on your sleeve allows [evil] to keep hurting you in the same spot over and over and over again. Like Rocky, how he kept hitting that slab of meat repeatedly in the same spot; when he was fighting what's-his-face, what he do. He way he kept jabbing him, over and over. That's how he won. The devil doesn't come up and look for new places to hurt you at, he'll just keep poking at your weakest point. You lay it out for him.

Now, as much as I like to pretend that I'm an emotionless shell of a being, I cannot deny that I do wear everything I feel like a bleeding rag around my wrist. And this blog -- this will be doing nothing but letting it dry and stain all over your good furniture. I stopped my insanely personal ramblings over @ js.net because that is exactly what happened -- people, strangers, knew my weaknesses all too well, and yes, it was used against me at times. So why did I feel such a need to start doing it all over again? Is this a good idea?

He said, if you keep letting [evil] know that it hurts you, it will continue hurting you for the rest of your life. The same thing that hurt you when you were 15 will hurt you when you are 45, it will keep coming back and you will never be able to shake it. What you gotta do is laugh when you are hurt, so that you can fuck with [evil]'s mind right back. It will be forced to look for a new spot to get you at. It's really hard, but once you do it, you find a strength in yourself that never existed before. (This was also interesting, because the aforementioned homie does just that -- laugh when he should be hurt. And he's the most hurt-free person I know.)

Even if I did laugh in person, wouldn't laying out my softest points -- face up -- ruin the purpose of protection? Does that mean I should stop?

2) Let go of your past.
That sounds easy, but whatever. Your past is exactly that, your PAST. Keep revisiting it, keep doing shit to "prevent" it, keep HOLDING ON to it and it will just REPEAT.

Aside from the obvious reference I can make to my life -- relationships, etc -- am I not also doing that with this blog? Am I not constantly revisiting my past by crystallizing it into such a permanent structure?

Or, am I just telling a story? Is it not a statement of triumph, in a sense? What happened happened, and after you're done telling your story -- it is just that, a story, and nothing more. On top of that, it's an honest reminder to myself that I've moved past whatever struggle I was experiencing.

Principles are lined up, things prioritized
See mamma I left that alone, faded memories, the reason that I'm grown
It'd be senseless for us to lie about our old experiences,
no longer are we tempted
-Nas

I think Jesus just told me to quit blogging again. Grin

I guess I should just learn how to do it differently. I never before minded exposing my deepest and darkest in order for others to be able to relate with clarity. I tell myself that I've resumed blogging for my sanity -- I do need to be able to shuffle my overanalytical mind into something linear -- but in the end, will it really do anything to help me?

Who knows?

Actually... who cares?

Thanks for the advice, I'll take it to heart.

Happy Anniversary, wife! Here's to 3 years of semi-marital bliss. Love you, and sorry I don't cook.

Love,
The Dynasty

I was watching Scrubs last night, and I got to pondering...

2007-11-20T13:39:00.000-04:00

Now before you laugh, I have limited tv. So fuck you.
End of disclaimer.

I was watching Scrubs last night. Carla, who is in a relationship with Turk, leans forward to Elliot -- a cute blonde girl with mad issues, one of them being trust -- and says (roughly paraphrasing):

"Honey.. It's all about hiding your crazy, and faking your confidence."

She said this in response to Elliot's conflicting (and charmingly neurotic... I say "charmingly" because I see myself in her LOL) emotions on how to approach this guy that she really likes. She basically said that the best way to snag/keep a guy is to hide your crazy from them. Everyone is crazy on the inside, but nobody needs to see your neuroses.

Is this true? Do you agree?

I mean, isn't that the You that everyone else sees? What would make your significant other special, if they don't get to see the complete, honest you?

There are certain things that only come out to people you totally trust. A person who is thoroughly aware of what her insanities and insecurities are will naturally be afraid to show them. History has proven that once all that mess gets let out of the bag, the other person will leave -- which, unforunately, will do nothing but restart the cycle.

All that "real you" stuff leaks out whether you want it to or not, once the walls start to slide down. So... would we have to prop that wall up with all our strength for the rest of our lives?

Are we to keep that "crazy" part a secret from the people we love forever?
If that's the case... should we even bother loving at all?

Carla gave an example of one of her Crazies that she hides from Turk. Sometimes, she cries when she starts thinking that there is no cat heaven. That to me is a completely different kind of crazy than Elliot, who is a general mess of a human. Carla's wierd ass reason for collapsing into tears does not define her as a person as much as, say, Elliot's issues with intimacy and herself.

If it's something that really shapes the actions in your past, present and future... shouldn't your lover, significant other, etc be made aware of them when the walls come down? So that they could understand, rather than retreat?

Will it always be seen as a change in person, rather than the not-so-simple exposing to the other side of the coin as it is? I mean, the things he liked about you from the start isn't necessarily gone. It's not a lie. It's just different. But it's always seen that way.

At the end of the episode, Elliot stomps up to her crush, kisses him, and pretty much demands that he asks her out. He does. He also makes a complete fool out of himself, proving to be just as much of a klutz as she is. Elliot's fears dissipate. Of course, this is TV. And of course, things will always fall into place. But a viewer really has to wonder, how much truth is really in these episodes? Are people like Elliot and myself destined to only be happy with motherfuckers as neurotic as we are?

Do we really have to be fake to keep the ones we actually want?

The Song Dynasty

Hahaha

Haha

She is stealing my soul

Soupa-Bowl

Sex

Venturing Out Into the... Well, the Expected

Attraction, Vanity, and Validation

The Softer Side of Dynasty

Lil Wayne Stuck Around

Miss January - The Procussions (ft Talib Kweli)

RamblingThought:Fighter

GOD!

Late Night Ramblings

RamblingThought:Frustration

Quickie: This Just In, and Football (Female Angle)

The Backpedal

Grumpy. Ranting.

The Dynasties - summarized around a toothache

Ramblingthought:Win

The (Male) Dynasty, Part I

The Providence Dynasty, Part II

The Providence Dynasty

I am not a writer.

It is what it is

Taken From 5andapossible - Friendships

The Tribal Dynasty

Our Children Are Going To Be Assholes, and Don't Touch My F*cking Hat

Taken from This Is Not A Blog

Taken From Jarrod Halsey

Who AM I?!

Stolen From A Super Duper Top Secret Forums Board

The Mondays

The Limit

Oh, so THAT'S why!!

Taking a Few Eggs Out of The Basket

The Flutter *grin*

Silver Lining

Take It Slow

*Rubs Oil All Over My Body"

Deep Fried Frenz

Taken from This Is Not A Blog

Regression, Relationships, and Masturbation

You can't spell "progress" without "assrape"

Dr Creflo A Dollar gives me two reasons why I should never have (re)started blogging

I was watching Scrubs last night, and I got to pondering...

The Flutter grin