Black Girl Rant #6: Like Crabs In A Bucket..

..some would rather kill themselves trying to keep others down, rather than to use that same effort to try to claw to the top with them. A shame.

I was just recently talking to a guy that I had met about 2 years ago. Of course the situation started out great, we just meshed. Or so it seemed. He turned out to be the most draining, needy, and manipulative individual I had ever met in my life. The crazy thing about the situation though was that I just couldn’t seem to leave him alone. He was such a parasite, and I knew it, but I just couldn’t pull myself away from the situation. I couldn’t let it go until finally he said to me over the phone…

I do just enough to keep you around. You’re a really good girl, but you know I ain’t ready to be in a relationship right now…I know I’m fucked up, but I don’t want you to go and find someone else…

o_O    really ninja?

That’s what’s hot in the streets?

Not only did this ignorant ass negroe not want to commit to me, he also was full of sh!t and knew it, AND he didn’t want me to meet someone a real man who would treat me right. Some people have the audacity to believe that their own emotional baggage is more important than anything else in their life, and is important to others as well. He made me laugh that day, and everyday after that. I promptly erased his number and suggested that he never call me again. Not in those words, but you get the point.  No one is ever worth giving up your happiness, you should never give anyone the power to pull you down to their negative level. It took me awhile to realize certain things, but I’m glad I eventually learned. Misery loves company….and when it knocks, I try not to be home.

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Somebody had to say it..

I have a couple of things to rant about today. Geezus, so much has been going on in this rollercoaster of a life of mine. People coming and going out of craziness, all this crazy ish in the media, the people I meet…..:sigh: But although I see so much, I try so hard to keep my compusure and remain professional at all times, because in reality I am in no position to judge ANYONE. :cough:bullshint:cough: But urrrummm yea..and heeeerrre we go:

Insecure Men/Women-

Why, oh why did someone appoint me the official magnet of wackdom? I mean damn, is there a sticky note on my back attracting all those deemed unworthy of confidence?? I always feel like the wackest men try to date , and the wackest women often hate. Now by wack I mean insecure, and by insecure I mean need to stay-at-home-on-the-couch-sitting-indian-style-watching-bambi-while-eating-popcorn type issues. The issues that make you want to slap them until they black out. YES. I mean really, I personally feel I am too damn old for a guy to be worried about what I’m doing when I’m not in his presence. Not everyone cheats, and if a guy doesnt trust  females based on past experiences, he may need to let his  balls guard drop enough to realize the world is NOT, I repeat, is NOT against him..just me. :jay-z-on to the next one: Females, :sigh:.. its become a trend for females to constantly pick apart a fellow female they see in the club, mall, gas station, eh..even church. Does it make you look anymore attractive than what you did before you talked ish? NOT so much. Does it really matter that her jeans are too tight and she can hardly breathe? NOPE. Does it affect you that she’s wearing a lace front hat wig that talks to you when u look at it too hard cough:beyonce:cough:? NOPE. My point exactly. GROW UP.

Rihanna vs. Chris Brown aka WWIII-

Yes, I watched the damn 20/20 interview. Yes, it further made me realize how much I dislike her. And YES I will STILL buy Graffiti when it comes out in Dec. I’m just gonna keep this short and sweet. FIRST OF ALL, the whole fight that night occured over a TEXT MESSAGE! ..SMH..Which further proves my insecure male/female argument above. i.e grown up! SECOND, I absolutely agree that Chris Brown was 100% wrong for beating that girl the way he did. But like my father told me growing up: you give a lick, you take a lick- and by lick I mean hit (pause) So, if she felt froggy enough to jump up, she got taught a VERY valuable lesson that night….(just sayin)

:drops the mic, and walks away slowly with my middle finger in the air:

Sammy Sosa-

SMH. When Martin Luther King said for all black and white people to come together as one, he definitely didn’t mean in the same body Sammy.No effin words.

Invented Sex Video- Trey Songs aka yes-I-would-anyday-of-the-week!

I would first like to say that I was formerly a bordering Trey Songs fan, due to the fact that he changed alot from when he first came on the scene. But this video…”this ish right heeeere n!gga”….MAN! I commend him as an artist, because he sings beautifully. But I swear I cant watch it more than once in a week. Enough said, I need a cold shower.

SN: the lesson for the day is – 1. Grow up! 2. keep your hands to yourself. 3. BLACK is beautiful 4. Yes, I did. Go ahead, admit it…lol

Why am I an Oreo?

:courtesy of urbandictionary.com:

    >Oreo:  A black person who is regarded as having adopted the attitudes, values, and behaviors thought to be     characteristics of middle class white society, often at the expense of his or her own heritage.<

SO I dare to ask this question again, Why am I an Oreo? Why do you feel the need to call me a freakin cookie? I’m a little confused as to why for some odd reason you have the neverending obsession with comparing me to the likeness of a piece of food? With creme filling?? Is it because I choose to talk PROPER english? Maybe it’s because I wear clothes that fit and arent disgustingly revealing? I don’t know, is it the way i walk? The way you envy the fact that I was taught to save  my money and spend it on things that will perhaps benefit me in some way in the future? Is it because I think about my future? Is it because I have a job that I’m certified in? Is it because instead of me pretending to be “down”, i continue to be myself? Is it because I don’t live in the city? Is the suburbs not good enough? Is it because I was taught to say deficate and urinate instead of being vulgar and rude? Is it because when I had basketball games and recitals in grade school BOTH parents showed up? Maybe its because of the way I react to stressful situations? Did my grades influence your decision? Or the fact that I graduated from highschool when I was supposed to? DOES IT MATTER? NOPE.

I’m sick of it, I’m not an Oreo! I’m someone who was taught that first impressions last a lifetime. I am a product of a household that instilled in me early in life the importance of upholding my family’s name. Often I wondered when I was young, if being an Oreo was something to be proud of. I mean, everyone said it to me and I never really understood the significance of the word. Black people should really try to give our race credit where it is certainly due. Our race has been in the forefront of entertainment, music [side eye] , sports, and most recently politics amongst many other realms for many years now. It’s crazy to me that instead of saying ” Gee, that young woman is doing well, I’m proud she is helping to lay the foundation for our generation”..all I hear is “umph, she talks/acts SO damn white..effin Oreo”. Gee, thanks. Black Power… #fail.

#kanyeshrug..oh well, your either considered Souljah Boy or Collin Powell…fluck it.

Peace..i’ve finally found it.

Sunday Morning, 11:37 am:

As I sit here basking in the warmth of this glorious fall morning, sipping on a mildly cooled mug of deliciousness that is Chai Latte with just a bit of vanilla and sprinkle of cinnamon to taste and smelling of heaven trapped in ceramic. The shade of my mother’s awning keeps the sun from blinding me, and the comfortable breeze of this fall day caresses me. Often I wonder how I became lucky enough to find peace while persistently being pushed and pulled into the cold arms of chaos. As I look just 10 ft away I see my toddler son eagerly chasing bubbles being blown through the air, as they drift with the wind it reminds me of my thoughts sometimes floating from my vicinity, vanishing into nothingness. He smiles with such delight anticipating what size bubbles the next breath of air may bring to his “magic wand”. Luckily, his young mind is not yet aware of the depth of this beautiful memory. I giggle slightly at the irony of our present situation. Still constantly reflecting on the times when just sitting and enjoying these special moments with my only baby boy were impossible. Nothing but yells, cursing and breaking glass could be heard in the tiny one bedroom apartment that housed a rabid lion constantly searching for prey. Wondering when I would have to protect myself and my offspring from the berating, throwing, and overwhelming stench of beer and cigarette smoke. Too many nights and an excessive amount of energy was spent on apologizing for imagined events and pleading for a chance to explain why things didn’t go as was asked of me. Not nearly enough time was given to the being whose presence forged this” union”. The one blessing I felt I had in life wasn’t receiving his owed appreciation from his mommy. Instead of my son being brought home to my ideal nurturing environment I had created in my mind for 9 months or more, his first stumble upon family was the equivalent of World War III. I praise the most high for the ability to see that the situation was not fit for a Queen and her Prince. The first opportunity of freedom and change afforded to me was accepted as our token to a new way of life, and it never tasted so sweet. I realized quickly that the tiny apartment that once housed a shambling family of three would soon be a figment of my imagination and only an unpleasant remembrance to my then infant son. We are now able to enjoy the whir of the fan in the bedroom while sleeping in late on a Saturday morning. Sunny days can now be spent outside enjoying the fresh air that fills our lungs for hours on trailed paths. At the age of two he makes it a purpose to smile at everything new, so contagious is the smile of  my baby boy. I hug and kiss him 2 zillion times a day just to feel his warm hands giving the small pat that most toddlers give. Kissing the small dimple on his right cheek, and telling him I love him forever and ever. This is peace for me, being able to see my son enjoy his childhood. He’s free to think about colors and shapes, and how many vanilla cookies he would like with lunch. I am thankful I was able to rid his life of chaos early, and blessed to not be stressed. There is reason for everything. As I sit here, continuously watching him pursue those translucent bubbles, while smiling broadly, and looking at me every so often to see if I’m still witnessing his accomplishments. I think to myself…..Yes sweetie, I am, and only one word comes to my mind: PEACE

SN: This post was written in response to the http://mybrownbaby.blogspot.com/2009/11/mybrownbaby-beautiful-mind-writing.html My Brown Baby Beautiful Mind Contest. Topic: Peace