Happy New Year 2014

Happy New years yall…..I know last year was an unusual struggle but we made it, now didn’t we?!!! I didn’t go to church this year or the last….or the year before that year neither…didn’t go as an effort not to get “shot” from a stray bullet or the hear a “profound word from the pastor” to see what this year (2014) holds for us….I just can feel that THIS YEAR IS GOING TO BE ABOUT REAPING WHAT YOU SEW….{HEART} and so, I hope all of you planted good seeds last year
1 luv.
Elay.

My Hair. My Hair?

20140519_103442.jpgWhat’s So wrong with it?

Whats SO wrong with my hair?

Many people “say its okay” Say that “its fine”

I don’t wanna know what “Momma” says.

I Don’t wanna know what my sisters say. Or WHAT “the Sistahs” say.

I wanna know what-the-Lord says!

No, not the lords of the universe, meaning, Television, magazines and the got derned net!

-You know? I mean like the Lord. What do he have to say about our hair?

 

I had to go deep. Dig deep into myself and find out the true answers to myself. That is, when it came along to the terms of me knowing and understanding my hair.

I love myself.

I loved myself back then too. -But if you were to ask all the church goers they had other missions and definitions in mind. As The Lord kept constantly telling them (the church ladies) to often tell me that “You are loved, God loves you!”

They said it in a way, as so I interpreted, that I was not loved, did not feel loved and or may not have known “how” to indeed love myself. (I’m rolling my eyes…).

However the case, that was not true to me. I did love me…

SO, having said that, I did love myself yet did not understand WHY the outsiders looking in on my world and AT MY HAIR were treating me, MY HAIR as Queer? As Peculiar…?

SO, it wasn’t me. IT wasn’t ME who had the issue. Me, with the problem. IT was them.

I learned myself, and knew myself at a young age. A very young age, and I liked my hair and knew how I wanted it and how I didn’t want my mother to style it too. I never liked how she styled my hair, EVER. -But WHO was gonna listen to a kid? A child. I loved me, knew my hair and how I wanted it to be styled but the master (my mother) would always object. Object to me wanting my hair to be worn differently.

With no voice on how I wanted my hair to be, I became powerless, the feeling inside of me tore me up on the inside. Deeply. Maybe if I had more creative freedom with my hair, maybe then, my self esteem would not have begun to unravel.

Then, it was then, when my confidence, was becoming non in void. I was confident before but after the power struggle with my mother wanting my hair to be in all those stupid ash braids, and barrettes and knockers (Knockers– those stupid balls attached on an elastic string that’s used to tie and or wrap around the cluster of divided hair to make that particular part of sectioned off hair to look “fancy” or “good” or “Cute”!! OOOH I hated it!. I really did! And still do. I don’t prefer all that sh!% and when and if I have a little girl, I won’t be putting that stuff in her hair unless she really want’s it. That’s it. Then, its different because she would want it, you know.

IT WAS MY HAIR, and I wanted more say over it. It that moment of my life and for a few years after that too, I realized that I was a prisoner of my own hair. I would have rather much have cut it off since I couldn’t express hair ideals freely with my mother. Guess she thought to have known what was best and wanted me to keep my hair looking as girly and innocent and child-like as possible. Enough was enough, but even at the brink of enough being enough, there was still nothing I could do about it.

I had to get back to me that once was. The confident me who did once like her hair and thought nothing of it. It just was going to be harder to do when every time I looked into the mirror, I didn’t like what I saw, I didn’t like my hair, but I liked me.

 

 

 

Love (a description in Paragraph form.)

To love someone is like getting a goldfish presented to you in a little plastic bag from the store at Walmart.
Once you get the bagged Fish, the worker informs you of the essentials needed for the Fish to survive and be happy and content.
-And although you “may Know” what a Fish needs, you gladly let the worker explain to you the instructional care of as your mind silently wonders into personal thought of what gonna be made for dinner that day.
As the mouth moves from the worker still explaining and showing you things “about the fish” You notice she finished talking, finally and you snap back into it.
“Have a nice day!” She says with excitement and you gladly take the Fish home, place it in the tank, feed it and leave. Simple. Right? When the tank gets dirty, you clean it. When it’s hungry, you feed it. Maybe if budget permits, you may even get some fish tank decorations along the way too.
You take care of it, you love it. You even greet it everyday. Well, one day, you come home from work to see your Fish belly up. Gone. Eighty-sixed . (Frown face) You wonder what in the heck went wrong as you believed in your heart you did all you could and “what was required.”
Luckily, you kept the receipt and you took the Fish back to Walmart to exchange it for another. The same girl who instructed you on the things you “thought” you knew about raising and caring for a Fish was there to help you again.
“What can I help you with?” She asked, but once eyeing the clear bag, filled with the lifeless dead Fish, she frowned. “You didn’t listen to me did you?”
“Huh?” You question. “Yeah, I did, I DID listen to you.”
She shook her head, clinched her fist and said; “Clearly YOU didn’t because I told you THAT particular Goldfish you got required something a little more ‘special’ than all the rest.
Your mouth drops and you are guilty, found out that you didn’t listen to her as you were so comfortable in self that you had all the answers…because you just knew.
What I’m trying to say is this:
Just because you may know what love is. Lived it, breathed it, walked it, buried it and so on with scenarios pertaining to love. Don’t let your guard down when someone new comes along in your life because you “think” you know all their is to know about Love and Goldfish.
Yes, the basis IS simplistic BUT each individual is different and unique although he or she is apart of the human race. Treat not the love of your life, boyfriend/girlfriend like a Goldfish (like everyone else…all the same)because once you get to know them (by taking the time to do so) THEN the uniqueness will shine through. This is when the learning process begins. Everyone and every Goldfish is the same if just glanced at quickly and because you’ve had experiences with before. When you examine the Fish/person more closely, you will be able to see THE WORLD of differences…in a UNIQUE way.a1d5cf689ef7fdd6ca749bba20ace165

Shi% To Me….

I think they’ve been through this shit before

but not tough to let me know that they been down this road

so, instead, they place the blame on me

as a reflection to what they fail claim 2 be

i hate yall

the feeling that yall tried to persuade away from me

Lord knows I don’t truly/really wanna be this way

but your antagonizing faith in you

dissipate my and me trusting you

to

tell you the truth

now from how and what and why and HOW I FEEL FOR YOU.