Wine.

I've been so distracted. My birthday is coming and considering  everything  I've  been through this year and every year prior for that matter I am grateful. I have many goals to fufill and so many things to explore for my twenty-second year. I only hope that continue to grow and flourish into a wiser, nobler more self-assured young woman.  I am proud of all that I have accomplished thus far. I am not perfect, far from it actually.  But I do try to follow my heart, be kind to others and put my best foot foward with little regret. I often catch myself feeling angry and discontent about the parts of my journey  that are paticularly upsetting. Even though  I know every emotion is fleeting, these feelings tend to overwhelm  me. Forcing me to  deal with  feelings and emotions I tend to supress. All I ever want to do is be happy and  help my loved ones achieve the happiness they so desire as well. No matter what  happens to me, I want to be known for the love and joy I've left in the hearts  of those I cherish most. I realize that I love hard, hard but differently. I may  or may not love to the liking of everyone in my life but it doesn't take away from how I feel about them. All I can do is try. Because  all I am is human. Flesh and bone. Both easily destroyed. Is it not one's   moving body or beating heart that determines whether they are alive. It is the fighting spirit and bright eyed will that determines life. For that, when my heart does stop beating, I am destined to be immortalized by my sheer strength.  Along with a few other blazing souls I love and respect. My birthday is in six days. And I intend to celebrate wholeheartedly. Because obviously, like fine wine, I get better with age.

Pray.

I'm rocked to my core right now. I have a heavy heart and I need to express how I feel. These last couple  days I've been extra low energy so I didn't blog for fear that I don't give the best version of myself.  But this morning... I feel as though  I'll  never be the same person I  was yesterday morning and all the other mornings before. Today, I finally  gave myself permission to watch Fruitvale Station. This movie came out two years ago based on  the last hours of Oscar Grant. Oscar Grant was a black man whose life was brutality snatched away by San Francisco transit police on New Years Day,  2009. In 2009, I was sixteen. Young, and still very heavily grieving for Sean Bell,  another young black man who fell victim to power mad police. The loss of Sean Bell was in my city. New York. I had openly protested for  Sean only two years prior. He was blantantly slaughtered the year before that, just before Thanksgiving. Made me thankful for the air in my brother's  lungs that year. The wound this loss left behind was very deep. Watching the news and hearing about Oscar in 2009 made me miserable and afraid. Even more so because  Oscar Grant's murder at the hand of police was the first one, us kids could actually SEE. It was all over the Internet. And I refused to watch. Even after some of my equally disturbed friends told me how eerie and unmistakably evil it was. I was adamant  in my decision because I knew my sixteen year old heart was not ready for that type of pain. So of course, when Ryan Coogler's brilliant, chocolatey, directing self released the movie in 2013,  I didn't watch claiming that  at only 20, I still wasn't ready. Now two years later, less than ten days away from being the same age Oscar Grant was at his untimely demise, I allowed  myself  to be racked with grief as they pushed a bullet into his back. I let myself succumb to the inevitability of his last words. "He Shot Me, I Have A Daughter". I let myself be consumed by the tragedy. I let myself cry with reckless abandonment. It was in the middle of this despair that I realized I will NEVER be okay or "Ready" to see something so egregious,  not as long I'm part of humane minority. So feeling broken, I look up towards the ceiling,  and speak for the peace, not only in my soul, but for this world.

Beneath

Everyone has a  dating preference. And I'm all for interracial relationships, because I  firmly believe real and profound isn't about the color of one's skin. True untamed love, is about all the immensity underneath the skin, wherein the soul lies. In fact, If it wasn't  for my African American mother  taking an interest in my Hispanic father, I would not be here. So in my opinion, the blurring the "racial purity" lines, as some bigots call it, is a beautiful. There is nothing more wonderful  then the blending of cultures  to create one fully equipped, sound minded being. That being said, I read an article today. This article blew my mind to say the least. It was  about a black man's response to a white woman's  reasoning. Not just any reasoning either,  interestingly enough this woman  gave her honest to God belief as to why the african american man's  romantic interest leans more towards the white woman now more than ever. I have to say, I was blantantly offended. She made the argument that african american men prefer  white women  because black women are too angry,agressive and come with too much emotional baggage. And just as i was fit to burst with indignation and fury, this black man came to my rescue, as well as EVERY black women's rescue when he told his truth. His truth was eye opening a little objectifying but honest nonetheless.  He went on to state that black men go for white women  simply because they are more "docile." They are simpler, in the sense that placating them would be second nature. He also went on to say, that throughout the black man's history  white women were usually given sexual attention when the black women who chose to stay head strong put his hormones on ice. Now don't get me wrong, I found it a type of deplorable that his truth implied the USING of any woman as a consolation prize. We as WOMEN are not PLAYTHINGS  to be picked up and placed down at a mans choosing.  However, my other WE, the one that implies  unity as a BLACK WOMAN  felt a strong sense of pride that a black man can still recognized  the beauty in the virtue of a strong black woman. Because yes, black women can be angry, we can have baggage  and we don't ever just roll over and "Yes" every situation. We can be difficult. But beneath that, is strength.  And it's wonderful to have that strength defended.
P.S. The link to the article is below read it and form your own opinions.

http://ghanavibes.com/white-womans-opinion-black-women/

Grasp

It's the most peculiar quirks, the things that we go through in youth that stay with us for the rest of our lives. The habits we pick up formed from disobedience. One of the things  I hated most in youth was being told "No" Even as an adult, I don't take kindly to  being told that I can't have what I want. The interesting thing about being told No is the more one hears No the more they want Yes. The burning desire to have something doesn't disippate  once you are told you cannot have it only intensifies. There is something so much more attractive about the unattainable and witheld. It is even more nerve wrecking  when an individual  has the opportunity to have a taste of what they so crave, and enjoyed it so wholeheartedly only to be told they can no longer have it at a later date.  Being denied in that sense, is a special sort of suffering. It only  seems possible to lightly subdue such a terrible trial by fondly dwelling  on the last time the conveted object was in one's grasp. It is next to impossible to stop wanting something one has caught themselves salivating  over for quite some time. The more the object of desire is held away, the harder the pull towards said object can be. Unfortunately though, that is the gravitational way of human nature. We will always want. Severely. But it isn't guaranteed that we will receive. Even those who do have their way majority of the time are bound to fall in a big heaping pile  of No. And I'm sure with the roles reversed we can see that no one says No all the time either. With a happy peaceful middle  ground,  a decent balance can be preserved.

Law and Disorder

Last night, I watched the most disturbing episode of Law and Order: SUV, I think I'll ever see. I normally don't watch the show  cause some times it's too much for me. But my girlfriend loves it, so I  keep an ear to the screen. This particular episode  though, man I couldn't tear myself away. The entire episode was pretty much a spew of racism.  Literally, EVERY three minutes  there was a slur of some sort "Porch monkey", "Kike", "Spic". There were insults we hadn't even heard of, but they were spoken with such hatred they still stung. The interesting thing about this is the fact that  Law and Order: SUV  is based in modern day New York. Not New York in the 1950's  or Mississippi  in the 1930's. So to see that bigoted behavior, so apparent in this day in age was a blantant eye-opener. The issue of race in today's society is ever relevant. People love to believe that we are an Era so built on "rising above"  and "being evolved" and that is an admirable notion. However,  racism, bigotry and open disrespect  of that nature is still very much alive in mainstream America. And I can appreciate the writer's of Law and Order making that a focal point of one of their episodes. No matter how disturbing the episode may be. Sometimes shock value is what we need to get a controversial message like that across. Even if one gets offended the way I did, it's important to remember that the lovely people on Law and Order: SUV are just actors, in no way shape or form adjacent to the personalities of their characters. They play these heart wrenching roles because they know offending someone is one of the best ways to get them talking. And talking and aknowledging  terrible things like racism and bigotry  is the first step towards the goal of complete racial harmony and not the facade of such.

The Roses

Sorry  about the wait guys, you have no idea how busy I've  been. One of my vows is not to let a full week go by without writing just because it helps with overall sanity. One of the few things I been forced to face this week is fear. I don't just mean any fear. I mean the fear of slowing down.  Everyone deserves to be the best version of themselves. Especially if they put in the extra effort to excel. However, stopping to "smell the roses" is imperative to  gaining the pure substances of life. If one never stops to take life in they are going to end up missing very moment that lifelong memories are made of.  I  completely see how petrifying that can be for some people.  The  ultimate accomplishment is to be recognized  for all the things one may flourish in. So some may feel that slowing  down consistues as a sign of weakness. Or in some bizzare way displays an unworthiness of some sort. All of these things are not  only very strange but highly untrue. Taking a breather, doesn't mean  one lacks drive. Appreciating the nature beauty  of life does not make  one devoid of creative passion. Loving life, even as it  one consistantly powers through it as such, assists the achievement of aspirations. Therefore simply, molding the spirit of a healthy well rounded  happy, proud  human being.

A Gift, A Curse.

When I get ready to blog, I look at the blank page that I fully  intend  to fill with words that are worth something. I make a silent vow that I will bring the most authentic version  of myself to everything I write. I tell myself 'if you are feeling shitty, it would be a lie to your readers as well as yourself to speak of joy.' At least in that moment anyway. Because everything that I've  ever written to anyone  anywhere has seeped it's  way out viscerally, straight from the heart. When I write is where I cannot lie. I only write truth because words have a funny way about them. Even  if you are a professional at fabrication and your fictional prowess has fought and won among the Gods words have a way of revealing purity. In words lie meaning, intent, honesty and overall reverence. Now I'm  going  to share something that only the closest people to me know about me, I remember everything.  And no not like photographic memory. And no not like "In 1842 Columbus sailed the ocean blue" kinda memory. Even though, I am quite fantastic at recounting interesting facts that serve no purpose other than to be interesting to me.  However what i mean is, everyone  that's ever  mean anything to me truly, i remember everything they ever said to me.  Now most people who be like well if they really mean something to you then of course you'll  remember.  But I literally  remember everything.  What day it was, what the weather like, whether i detected  distance or happiness  in the tone. Everything. And you know what, in life this ability has benefited me in more ways than i can count. But when one has an ability such as mine, and someone else chooses to disrespect and break trust or be insensitive and disregarding. That is the most  hurtful thing to never forget. It too painful to even dwell on.