As of late, I've had a wide variety of thoughts in my mind. Because I rarely blog these days, I'll just post a few of these thoughts as they come to mind....
My Religion:
I was raised as a Catholic and baptised and even had my oldest daughter baptised but I realized soon after that, I don't necessarily agree with all of the lifestyle choices that are outlined in the Bible, which is the base of this particular religion. Recently, as I've gotten older and been introduced to more colleagues, I've been invited to churches and feel obligated to go because there's always an awkward yearning for acceptance of the invitation in their eyes. In a southern society, it's almost unfathomable to not worship God.
But I don't.
And I have no immediate interest in doing so.
Call me selfish, but I give credit to myself and my immediate loved ones for my success through my tough times. I get a little confused when people give all their undivided devotion to a being/figure who, from my interpretation of readings, is but a metaphor of one's inner conscious. I was always told growing up, when you are born, your soul is white....clean. And every sin committed gives you a black spot on this "white" soul. You are to repent, and then all the black goes away. Well, no offense to any of my readers, but I like being black. And, just a thought here, if I had a preference, I'd like for my soul to start off black and my sins to be white spots...like a zebra; not like a cow.
But anyway...I always feel weird talking to religious people because I can't relate to their outlook on life and their ideas of why we are who are. I don't think that I'll go to hell because I have no interest in living my life according to the opinions of a glowing white man with a great beard. It's really that simple, actually. I know I'm a good person with a good heart and I treat people fairly well...What more is required of me to get into the golden gates of acceptance in the afterlife. Are those of us who believe the ones who get first dibs on who the are reincarnated as?
And although I don't believe in a God per say, I do often pray for guidance....but not from the white guy with the nice beard. I pray to my deceased loved ones for guidance and wisdom because I believe, somehow, they speak back to me spiritually. They know me. They don't have a trillion people praying to them so they answer me right away. And it's not dumb advice like "Wait, and what is meant to be will happen for you" It's more like..."You can't wait around for that shit. You gotta go and get it if that's what you wanna do. I don't know what you're talking to me for, you should be making moves right now" type of thing...It's different. It's my personal spiritual connection and thankfully it's with someone(s) who love me and who I love back because we know each other and have memories together and have shared ideas and dreams and thoughts together. I don't want to downplay someone else's God but, I know for certain my ancestors did not worship God in the form of which many of us worship him today. That religion is not based on love and acceptance like it is proposed to be. It has been Americanized, yes, but it's not right for me and if I know you or see you in person and you decide to invite me to church I will kindly say no thank you and keep my heathen ass a movin'.
My Background:
Oddly enough, my perspective on religion has been this way since high school but recently, upon researching my "roots", I've become more confident in my decision to be different and feel ok with it. Because of the foolery and confusion throughout different accounts of the history of humans, I am not sure what my blood line is connected to. It doesn't bother me: I'm here, alive, working, surviving comfortably. I do wonder how it feels to be able to name the tribe in which your descendants are from. Being raised and classified as black is not a negative thing in my mind because I have chosen for it to be that way. I do realize that all black people don't look the same and just as much as I love the next sister or brother....we might be enemies somewhere down the line of history. I've hit a bit of an artistic block lately because my mind has been jumbled with having the courage to speak up for myself and break free from my conditioning that I received as a child. Like calling older people at work by their sur-name (Ms. Mr. Mrs.) and then they just call me by my regular name. I know that's a southern thing though and I wish my mind could see this as just a "thing"; nothing important, nothing to determine myself as being rude. Living with someone from up north is very eye-opening. I'm trying my best to be normal instead of southern. It's difficult to explain of course...especially to other southern people but mostly to northern people so I guess it's just, plainly, difficult to describe.
There are a few relationships in my life right now that quite frankly, I'd rather not be connected to. If it were up to me and my inner-self, I'd scream fuck you to half of these people and to the other half, I'd explain to them, in the most graphic of terms, why I did not like them and then deliver their fuck you. But because I was raised differently, I smile and say yes mam and have difficulty saying no. My parents never really taught me to say no. At least not in a firm "Fuck no, bitch" sort of way. I was taught and raised to be pleasant. Just boring ass pleasant. I've never seen my mom roll her neck or go off or tell a bitch like it it...none of that. And I've never seen my parents angry. And when they were angry, it was like "OH ok.Well I'm not talking to you" "Fine, I'm not talking to YOU" type of thing and then everybody was just dead ass quiet. And of course, naturally that's the habit I inadvertently picked up. When I'm pissed or feel like I'm heading into confrontational waters...I rely on my golden silence but that shit just don't work sometimes.
So, all of that to say, I realize the worst that could happen to me is people not wanting to be around me. Which is not the worst at all since that's what I ultimately want from these particular parties..to leave me the fuck alone. I'm not an angry bitter person but I have been gifted to be from a family of writers who are very good with words. I am more than capable of being mean in a nice way.
Challenge Accepted.
Realationships: (Spelled incorrectly for a whimsical effect, get it?)
Shabazz and I are doing great. We have our moments, days, nights, whatever just like every other couple, I'm sure...Luckily neither of us are psychopathic sociopaths with a fetish for blood and vengeance.
Our very first disagreement occurred before we moved in together and it was about nothing other than bacon. Yes. Bacon. Not just any bacon...Oscar Mayer pork bacon.
Both of us eat turkey bacon and splurge with pork bacon every once in a while for birthdays or celebratory purposes. Pork bacon to us is like weed to a Retired Navy Vet who also served as a dedicated member of the DEA. A little cheat every once in a while...What? It happens!
Anyway..we bought a pack and after counting the strips of bacon in the pack, I said hey, we should reserve some of this instead of eating it all at once. Before I could make my point, he was hungry. Not the regular hungry but the kind you announce repeatedly to your mom when your in the grocery store and see the free samples for the day are slices of turkey and cheese instead of diet gummy bears. I was pissed because living on your own with kids and no government assistance, you become conditioned to ration portions to last you until your next check and in my mind, I couldn't imagine eating a whole pack of bacon and a full carton of eggs with a whole pack of shredded cheese in one day. To Shabazz, it was the norm. I was determined to reserve my beloved bacon for the next morning at the very least but no...he wanted it right then...Because he was "starving". After going back and forth about why he should eat the other half of the pack, I said fuck it. Eat the fucking bacon...just eat it! Thinking he would feel bad for upsetting me (since this was his first time seeing me upset), I assumed he would say "Babe, I'm sorry....let's save the bacon, you're right" But i was wrong. He cooked the bacon and ate it. Right next to me. Then offered me some. I went into my awww nooo he dddii-iiiinnn mode and was dead ass silent. Aside from being silent, I clean ferociously when I'm angry. I clean places that most won't just get up and randomly do. Like I'll go outside and Windex the windows or sweep and mop the porch...or sweep, mop, then scrub the floor....vacuum the couch arms, Clorox the bottoms of every one's shoes, wipe the bottom of the feet of the chairs and tables, take apart the TVs and spray them with the compressed air to get rid of dust that doesn't even exist.
But, we've come a long way from the bacon debate and have gained a mutual understanding of one another...for the most part.
Sometimes, I feel confused though. Sometimes I want to be me and say what I really feel but I don;t want it to come out the wrong way and that can be a little difficult sometimes because I can be blunt at times. Sometimes I do feel alone. But not alone because of a lack of attention from my Bazz because that's not it. I feel like I don't have any friends aside from him to vent to. I've had this concern often lately and I try to reach out but ,just like it's hard for me to relate to "walking testimonies", its also difficult for me to relate to other women who are my age with no kids and no man. They don't quite understand that I cant make week night plans and stay out til the next day. They cant quite understand that I like to be home with my man instead of out all night around some other chick's man who's in the club cuz he don't wanna go home either. I like to drink and dance but I like to respect my household and its function as well. It's hard for me to explain that to people. Sometimes, because my partner works hard, I have the girls. When I mention that, it's almost like oh ok nevermind in regards to making plans with me. I understand that I can't expect someone to want to adapt to my expectations and vice versa but damn. I like to video blog because it's just me. I talk to myself like I would talk to a close friend: very frank, with a hint of sarcastic humor to soften the blade when i get deep into some real shit. But I'm kinda sick of being my own friend all the time. I cant talk to Bazz about our relationship becasue he's involved! He wouldnt see the humor in me complaining about different silly arguments that we have simply because he's not a woman with a man and some kids like I am lol. And I cant talk to myself all the fucking time like, seriously...what the hell? I feel that I just can't wait to leave Jacksonville and feel free to start over and be who I want to be and feel free to do whatever and not be worried that I'm going to see someone I know that will run and tell someone else they saw me somewhere, in their mind, that i had no business being.
Just want to be me around someone who can be themselves too. No shade, no shame.
My Religion:
I was raised as a Catholic and baptised and even had my oldest daughter baptised but I realized soon after that, I don't necessarily agree with all of the lifestyle choices that are outlined in the Bible, which is the base of this particular religion. Recently, as I've gotten older and been introduced to more colleagues, I've been invited to churches and feel obligated to go because there's always an awkward yearning for acceptance of the invitation in their eyes. In a southern society, it's almost unfathomable to not worship God.
But I don't.
And I have no immediate interest in doing so.
Call me selfish, but I give credit to myself and my immediate loved ones for my success through my tough times. I get a little confused when people give all their undivided devotion to a being/figure who, from my interpretation of readings, is but a metaphor of one's inner conscious. I was always told growing up, when you are born, your soul is white....clean. And every sin committed gives you a black spot on this "white" soul. You are to repent, and then all the black goes away. Well, no offense to any of my readers, but I like being black. And, just a thought here, if I had a preference, I'd like for my soul to start off black and my sins to be white spots...like a zebra; not like a cow.
But anyway...I always feel weird talking to religious people because I can't relate to their outlook on life and their ideas of why we are who are. I don't think that I'll go to hell because I have no interest in living my life according to the opinions of a glowing white man with a great beard. It's really that simple, actually. I know I'm a good person with a good heart and I treat people fairly well...What more is required of me to get into the golden gates of acceptance in the afterlife. Are those of us who believe the ones who get first dibs on who the are reincarnated as?
And although I don't believe in a God per say, I do often pray for guidance....but not from the white guy with the nice beard. I pray to my deceased loved ones for guidance and wisdom because I believe, somehow, they speak back to me spiritually. They know me. They don't have a trillion people praying to them so they answer me right away. And it's not dumb advice like "Wait, and what is meant to be will happen for you" It's more like..."You can't wait around for that shit. You gotta go and get it if that's what you wanna do. I don't know what you're talking to me for, you should be making moves right now" type of thing...It's different. It's my personal spiritual connection and thankfully it's with someone(s) who love me and who I love back because we know each other and have memories together and have shared ideas and dreams and thoughts together. I don't want to downplay someone else's God but, I know for certain my ancestors did not worship God in the form of which many of us worship him today. That religion is not based on love and acceptance like it is proposed to be. It has been Americanized, yes, but it's not right for me and if I know you or see you in person and you decide to invite me to church I will kindly say no thank you and keep my heathen ass a movin'.
My Background:
Oddly enough, my perspective on religion has been this way since high school but recently, upon researching my "roots", I've become more confident in my decision to be different and feel ok with it. Because of the foolery and confusion throughout different accounts of the history of humans, I am not sure what my blood line is connected to. It doesn't bother me: I'm here, alive, working, surviving comfortably. I do wonder how it feels to be able to name the tribe in which your descendants are from. Being raised and classified as black is not a negative thing in my mind because I have chosen for it to be that way. I do realize that all black people don't look the same and just as much as I love the next sister or brother....we might be enemies somewhere down the line of history. I've hit a bit of an artistic block lately because my mind has been jumbled with having the courage to speak up for myself and break free from my conditioning that I received as a child. Like calling older people at work by their sur-name (Ms. Mr. Mrs.) and then they just call me by my regular name. I know that's a southern thing though and I wish my mind could see this as just a "thing"; nothing important, nothing to determine myself as being rude. Living with someone from up north is very eye-opening. I'm trying my best to be normal instead of southern. It's difficult to explain of course...especially to other southern people but mostly to northern people so I guess it's just, plainly, difficult to describe.
There are a few relationships in my life right now that quite frankly, I'd rather not be connected to. If it were up to me and my inner-self, I'd scream fuck you to half of these people and to the other half, I'd explain to them, in the most graphic of terms, why I did not like them and then deliver their fuck you. But because I was raised differently, I smile and say yes mam and have difficulty saying no. My parents never really taught me to say no. At least not in a firm "Fuck no, bitch" sort of way. I was taught and raised to be pleasant. Just boring ass pleasant. I've never seen my mom roll her neck or go off or tell a bitch like it it...none of that. And I've never seen my parents angry. And when they were angry, it was like "OH ok.Well I'm not talking to you" "Fine, I'm not talking to YOU" type of thing and then everybody was just dead ass quiet. And of course, naturally that's the habit I inadvertently picked up. When I'm pissed or feel like I'm heading into confrontational waters...I rely on my golden silence but that shit just don't work sometimes.
So, all of that to say, I realize the worst that could happen to me is people not wanting to be around me. Which is not the worst at all since that's what I ultimately want from these particular parties..to leave me the fuck alone. I'm not an angry bitter person but I have been gifted to be from a family of writers who are very good with words. I am more than capable of being mean in a nice way.
Challenge Accepted.
Realationships: (Spelled incorrectly for a whimsical effect, get it?)
Shabazz and I are doing great. We have our moments, days, nights, whatever just like every other couple, I'm sure...Luckily neither of us are psychopathic sociopaths with a fetish for blood and vengeance.
Our very first disagreement occurred before we moved in together and it was about nothing other than bacon. Yes. Bacon. Not just any bacon...Oscar Mayer pork bacon.
Both of us eat turkey bacon and splurge with pork bacon every once in a while for birthdays or celebratory purposes. Pork bacon to us is like weed to a Retired Navy Vet who also served as a dedicated member of the DEA. A little cheat every once in a while...What? It happens!
Anyway..we bought a pack and after counting the strips of bacon in the pack, I said hey, we should reserve some of this instead of eating it all at once. Before I could make my point, he was hungry. Not the regular hungry but the kind you announce repeatedly to your mom when your in the grocery store and see the free samples for the day are slices of turkey and cheese instead of diet gummy bears. I was pissed because living on your own with kids and no government assistance, you become conditioned to ration portions to last you until your next check and in my mind, I couldn't imagine eating a whole pack of bacon and a full carton of eggs with a whole pack of shredded cheese in one day. To Shabazz, it was the norm. I was determined to reserve my beloved bacon for the next morning at the very least but no...he wanted it right then...Because he was "starving". After going back and forth about why he should eat the other half of the pack, I said fuck it. Eat the fucking bacon...just eat it! Thinking he would feel bad for upsetting me (since this was his first time seeing me upset), I assumed he would say "Babe, I'm sorry....let's save the bacon, you're right" But i was wrong. He cooked the bacon and ate it. Right next to me. Then offered me some. I went into my awww nooo he dddii-iiiinnn mode and was dead ass silent. Aside from being silent, I clean ferociously when I'm angry. I clean places that most won't just get up and randomly do. Like I'll go outside and Windex the windows or sweep and mop the porch...or sweep, mop, then scrub the floor....vacuum the couch arms, Clorox the bottoms of every one's shoes, wipe the bottom of the feet of the chairs and tables, take apart the TVs and spray them with the compressed air to get rid of dust that doesn't even exist.
But, we've come a long way from the bacon debate and have gained a mutual understanding of one another...for the most part.
Sometimes, I feel confused though. Sometimes I want to be me and say what I really feel but I don;t want it to come out the wrong way and that can be a little difficult sometimes because I can be blunt at times. Sometimes I do feel alone. But not alone because of a lack of attention from my Bazz because that's not it. I feel like I don't have any friends aside from him to vent to. I've had this concern often lately and I try to reach out but ,just like it's hard for me to relate to "walking testimonies", its also difficult for me to relate to other women who are my age with no kids and no man. They don't quite understand that I cant make week night plans and stay out til the next day. They cant quite understand that I like to be home with my man instead of out all night around some other chick's man who's in the club cuz he don't wanna go home either. I like to drink and dance but I like to respect my household and its function as well. It's hard for me to explain that to people. Sometimes, because my partner works hard, I have the girls. When I mention that, it's almost like oh ok nevermind in regards to making plans with me. I understand that I can't expect someone to want to adapt to my expectations and vice versa but damn. I like to video blog because it's just me. I talk to myself like I would talk to a close friend: very frank, with a hint of sarcastic humor to soften the blade when i get deep into some real shit. But I'm kinda sick of being my own friend all the time. I cant talk to Bazz about our relationship becasue he's involved! He wouldnt see the humor in me complaining about different silly arguments that we have simply because he's not a woman with a man and some kids like I am lol. And I cant talk to myself all the fucking time like, seriously...what the hell? I feel that I just can't wait to leave Jacksonville and feel free to start over and be who I want to be and feel free to do whatever and not be worried that I'm going to see someone I know that will run and tell someone else they saw me somewhere, in their mind, that i had no business being.
Just want to be me around someone who can be themselves too. No shade, no shame.
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