Life Goes On

The excitement dies and the comforting, but yet aggonizing "Congrats" still come at you like yesterday never happened. So what do you do? Do you smile and say "thank you" and just keep walking or do you turn around and look them dead in their faces as if they are stupider than the stupidest of them all. Don't you see I don't have a belly anymore? Guess they won't know unless you tell them. Realizing that there is something rather different about you, but naaahhhh, that can't be right. Must be a pregnancy thing. But the point is, if they were never so busy meddling in your business, that little piece of time frame would have never been so awkward. So when you congratulate me (now)... are you congratulating me on my successful pregnancy or are congratulating me on my successful miscarriage? You didn't even ask if I was carrying and I never, personally told you that I was carrying but yet you can ask me when do I find out if it is a boy or a girl. Really?! #getthefuckouttahere!!

So I can be stubborn, bitter, and downright bitchy. But if I felt the need to keep everyone aligned for my every breaking newsflash, then I would and if I don't, then that means DON'T give me your comments, questions or concerns. Why don't people get it? I'm not here to except pity, apologies, or sad faces. I'm only here to vent and half the time viewers/readers seem to miss the real points of my writing either way, but it's pointless to vent about that because I'm quite sure that once this word gets out, the expected is what I will be hearing over the next couple weeks or so. One thing I can say is, when something is unexpectedly taken away from you, whether it's been a day, a month or 10 weeks; your life seems to fall into a whole new game-level. Just a minute ago, I was coming up with names to continue my line of uniqueness and regality along with Superior (my son) and Blessing (my daughter). Just a minute ago, I was back in "mommy mode" thinking about what it would feel like to hold such a small human being again. Wondering if this will be another 4 pounder? Maybe smaller. Or will this one kick ass and reach a whopping 5? lol! The comforting smell of Johnson & Johnson baby powder and lotions. The excitement of everything new. The adrenaline rush that comes with being a "high risk" factor and still being able to conquer such miracles in the time of dier needs, literally. New editions and introductions. This is ......, your new brother, your new sister, your new grandchild, neice, nephew.... MY new son... MY new daughter... Welcome home?

I fight back the tears and become overwhelmed with mixed emotions. What am I crying for? We hadn't even gotten to the stages of movement, so what is there to miss? I knew he/she was in there. Am I saddened because I feel inadequate as a woman that I couldn't carry another baby? Or do I feel the embarassment from sharing with the world that I was on my way to building yet a new empire and failed? When you're in the moment of your "glow", expectancy becomes a responsibility for everyone else's fascination with pregnant women... the aftermath of miscarrying is when you realize that you just lost your job. You were fired without warning or reasoning, and you are left with continuing on with your life as if nothing ever happened. So what about the little tiny heartbeat that I saw beating so rapidly? It doesn't matter because people don't miss what they've never had; along with responses to the effect of it may have been for the better or it wasn't in God's plans. It was only implanted in me and my memory for reference. I didn't uphold my end of the bargain and therefore life goes on...

Until next time bloggers...

What Miracles Bring

My hormones are raging and I'm so chemically imbalanced that this could and probably should be a new case study for specialists. So I figured I would just knock you guys up for a split second so we can all share these lovely feelings together. I'll be your dam tour guide for fatness, food and funk in your first trimester.

First let's start off with extreme-ness... and I do mean everything! irritates the hell out of me. Here is where patience becomes a virtue and you began to understand how much of it you really have, only because you start losing it over the simplest of things. I'll give you an example; Me and IHOP was about to fight one night because they forgot about my pancakes (speaking of which, I would really love some right now) and they didn't realize substitutions are a no-go. For some reason, people think that when you ask for Sprite and they don't have it, they can simply substitute Sierra Mist as if I won't notice. Really?! Why, why, why would you do that? Just simply tell me you have Pepsi products and not Coke products, or vice versa so that I can choose accordingly; because when dealing with something that you originally never had your preggo-mind set on, it's like 20 times worst. I almost spit that substitution in the waiters face. Self control is not heard of when dealing with preggo taste buds... we taste every friggin thing, which means it's 10 times better or 20 times worst than ever before. When it comes to food, pregnant women instantly pick up these scavenger characteristics. They're on a man food-hunt for the best tasting food out there or either the food that will subside whatever cravings we have been having for so long. If a woman is able to subdue a craving, OMG, it's like a food-gasm *sigh* But always remember that no matter what, all requests must be honored..

I hate to gross people out not really but I'm about to shed a whole new light on this beautiful miracle that everyone think is so awesome. You know how you see those medicine commercials and then they shoot that line at the very end really fast about the side effects. Yeah, let's get to the fine print. I would absolutely love to be able to take a shit without having to practice a breathing technique. Yeah, I guess lamaze comes in handy for more than just helping to deliver a baby. Constipation starts from the very beginning and if you think that is something disgusting... Hell, we are just getting started! A fart can be deadly, literally. Preggo asses no longer have the muscles to lock and clinch tight when trying to hold one in, in public. I also highly suggest that you run for cover (yes from yourself and especially those in the line of fire) or invest in a gas mask. And this is only the first couple of weeks, or months. Trust me, everything gets worst with time.

Next, let's try talking about how it feels like someone titty punched you all day, everyday. Yes! painful for no friggin' reason whatsoever. And the swelling?! Your aeriolas can get so big that your tit will look like you have a bunch of nipples. So I'm exaggerating a little... lol! A preggo woman's mindframe is exaggerated, but not intentionally. But honestly, them jugs usually gain more weight than what's in your uterus. No exaggeration here. This part will really make women enjoy being apart of the itty bitty titty committee. I would love to be pregnant with no boobs, lol. Life would be so much easier.

Your hair grows 10 times faster than ever before. Good thing for what's on your head, bad thing for everywhere else. Your shaving routine is no longer at a decent pace of every 5 days to a week. Now you are shaving every 2 to 3 days, maybe everyday. And let's not fail to mention those that like to go brazilian (like me). Ok... let's try with an example. Take a basketball and hold it at your waste/tuck it in your shirt for a better effect. Now... hop in the shower and try to bend over (with baketball in tact) to mow your lawn. Are you out of breathe? Did you catch a cramp in one of your obliques? Feel like you need to throw up? Yep! We have, now, achieved the fat person's shaving routine. We will need to practice this daily, so get use to feeling like you're continuously putting yourself into the full nelson.

Walk from your living room to the bedroom and it should feel like you just ran a marathon. Everything makes you gag/dry heave including just talking about something gross. There is no such thing as resting or taking a nap, you just simply pass out chocolate wasted style. *shaking head* So unladylike. Pissing is a never ending task and the beginner stages of pregnancy can have you looking like you have been bingeing on beers for the past couple months. People are going to continuously stare trying to figure out if that is really a beer belly or should they ask when are you due. And once you tell them, they are all in shock like they are just so use to you simply being fat. Sexting now consist of what's on the menu for the 2 of you to eat together. Example...

Me: ummm bae, you know what I would love to get a taste of?

Him: what's that? :D (smiley face of excitement attached like I'm referring to him)

Me: I would love some of those shrimp scampi frittas from Olive Garden and an order of lobster cannelloni with shrimp and a side of chicken and gnocchi soup. Um bae, doesn't that sound good?

Him: oh... call in the order, I'll be there in a few

Yeah, this post is nothing like real life and I still kept it professional. lol. On to round two.

Until next time bloggers...

Another "Really?!" Moment

I know! I know! I have been M.I.A. and it's all for good reason... I think. Today I felt I was ready to share some of the shit that has been boggling my mind since my new findings that which you can learn more about here. Since that topic was already discussed over there, let's discuss, here, how my life decisions seem to effect everybody else. That leaves us with yet another "really?!" moment.

Let's be clear that I am not the one to keep secrets. Most of you already know that. I am an open book and would probably be a best-seller if I actually sit my ass down and put the work in like I should. But you see, regardless of whatever achievements, goals you may have reached, or anything considered to be accomplished, there is always someone somewhere close by that has a Ph.D. in passing judgement. People have been confused as to why I have completely shut down from the outside world, the inside world, etc... They expect me to automatically tell what's the new haps in my life, or voice my opinion on a situation that probably has absolutely nothing to do with me or my situation. Most of the time, I don't mind. I mean, I do have a blog that kinda-sorta captures my life experiences. I love giving my side-of-the-stories and voicing my non-judgemental viewpoints on certain situations. I believe everyone should channel their visuals in the same manor because I'm just awesome like that. I don't pretend to make out like I am the perfect person because I'm not exactly sure what perfect means. But what I do know is, if I don't decide to open my mouth about a certain situation, it's probably because it's none of your fucking business. Simply put. How else can I say it? I think that was nice enough and frankly, I don't give a fuck how anyone feels about it. Oops pardon my manors o_O

The day of my judgement has not yet arrived. And I am quite sure that once my time is here, it will be handled between my God and myself in private; because guess why? He doesn't care what you have to say or think and neither do I. Surprise!! lol! It seems that the older I get, the more I shun myself away from what I consider to be pure ignorance. Before you know it, I will be alone with a dog for a companion (since I hate cats) and I'm completely satisfied with that. You see, the last thing I need, want in my life and have never requested is another person asking me a question about what is going on with me only to relay it through the grapevines or to turn up their noses as if they are smelling their own ass... because if you ask me, whomever it is that we may be referencing just has to be full of shit.

I believe that people are nosey and make it their business to pass judgement on others because they have no real business of their own. And if  they do have any type of business, they need to find somewhere/someone else to point a finger at so that they don't have to point a finger at themselves. Maybe they are feeling inadequate and think that if they judge someone else, they won't feel as bad about whatever bullshit they laid in. It's so funny how people concern themselves with everything that isn't theirs or don't belong to them. It's funny how people get mad because I don't give a fuck about their thoughts on MY matters. I laugh in the face of these practicing imitators who try to justify reasonings for my existance, or the next persons. Who are you people?! Nevermind, scratch that because I honestly don't give a fuck. Oops, did it again, lol!

Really?!

Some days, you just have to stop in your tracks and ask, "really?!" Can some people really be that complicated? Or bored? Or lifeless? Who knows... who cares... I just felt like venting today.

Until next time bloggers... maybe the next post will contain a little more talent, lol!

Left At The Altar

I had the visual.
no solid blueprint to prim the land... because,
the thought... alone. was a little too deep. a little too sensual.
more than what You were capable,
the foundation. a little too firm. and the project. a little too extensive.
so I guess I'll suck it up and flex my flexibilities on time and dates... and push for extensions,

it's pointless to keep the visual when the reality is... DE.NIED ASCENSION

(laughing) you get to feel the joy with... my pain
and then you claim... and... I blame... and wherever your love-muscle desires to aim.
I hate to face the fact that you can't make me happy in this frame

I've role-played and pretended,
grammy-award winning housewife and freak... I got it... I comprehended...
whatever the weather calls for...
committed. to so many roles... "who... was. I. suppose to be? again..."
behind-the-scene
stunt doubles and dummies, props and whatnots
when in actuality, the main role was "puppet"...
and you were the strings consorting my frolic

but yet... hydrangeas and rose petals dance on some pretty stem
and... calla lillies all bunched together
while...
solid color patterns flex under some temple's trim
while... scenic backdrops click quick pics through this kaleidoscope plated in my head
and once I let down my hands...
the plans...

I can't force the dream on life's palate
and You can't come to terms with what goes good with a salad
like...
the chapters are so far spred
and...
the climax never reached the bed

and...
a force field of confusion led to... some epidemic... they say...
a widespread of bull's shit... from what I hear they call it...
and...
the honest truth of... maybe you're really suppose to get fucked this-a-way

and...
if we interpret the history of the equation,
everything add's up to get-the-fuck-a-waytions...
from...
the haunting and taunting of  lover quarrel invasions,
past divisions between... what's equality... and what's... not... really...
trying to square root a problem already solved...
cause your gut says that:  if you multiply what's in the parentheses... first...?
but the book says the answer's only reveal the ODD...


in the back...
a devotion of times, tables and shackling sheets...
mixed towels with my wash cloths and how this utility bill is so unique.

squandering through the thicket of love's bliss.
ultimately aware of the way to a shower stall...
to cleanse the mind of... turbulance
and... the abundance of fatalities in these false fantasies...
holding on to something that never held back...
I don't think there is rehab for this type of crack...

'cause... I thought I was so close!
and... it's right here!
I can smell it simmer!... but the light's grew. dimmer?... huh?

I had the visual.
but a bit too much... visionary
and no stationary...
not enough softness... and way too complex for such...
tom foolery... and premonitions of collision.

I just wanted to recite my vows with googley eyes...
speak in a rhythmic manor...
sway the crowd...
but...
the visual became too clutched... fisted in the twat of commitment...
and union...
then doomed

You want it...
and it's right there...
but the excess? to hook the weakest link... is a bit unclear

so the visual...
was left a bit untidy...
mis-dreamed... misrepresented... missed...
in all that was tied in...
for lack of luster in the shiney...
and...
mis-communicating the right timing.

Up 4 Discussion Presents...

Black Blogger's Reunion

It's a cookout!! Come join the Up4Discussion family as we vibe over good reading and the thought of smelling them steaks on the grill. There is nothing like great food, fun and family! Oh yeah... and a good read.

So here's the deal. I guess since we are all either sitting behind our PC or tuned into our phones while vibing to this mix, it wouldn't hurt to just settle for a turkey sandwich.

Enjoy!!!

Black Blogger's Reunion

Until next time bloggers...

Beauty and the Beast: Manipulator vs. Enabler

Mind-Fuck-ER vs Mind-Fucked UP is really what I wanted to title this post. But I figured that probably would send everyone into a conniption and I didn't want to come off so abruptly. I do try my best to stay in a steady monotone. LOL!! But I have to admit that when I came up with these thoughts the other night (while under the influence), I found this shit to be rather humorous (have ya'll noticed I laugh at myself quite often?) on top of humiliating because I have seen myself in the enabling position. While we are on this subject, as you read along, make sure you map out the qualities in your own characteristics to rule out that this is not you. Let's get right into it. This post might just be a long one...

Here, in the left hand corner, let's begin with the wack ass Manipulator/Mind Fuck-er/the Beast. What a fucked up ass individual!! The manipulator is a control freak, the bastard/bitch that rocks the cradle. They all have this suaveness about them; master minds behind the art of convincing, persuation, and being a heartless ass. The smoother they are (because they have been doing this for years) the harder you get fucked (in the ass. no lube) They have a way of using "swag" (I hate that word) to receive anything that they want out of you, whether it's your pussy/dick,  your money, your time, your fucking common sense. Notice that I said RECEIVE and not TAKE. Once you have been talked into adding Satan's name to your bank account, you basically began to feel the wrath of, "you-have-gots-to-be-dumb-as-hell-syndrome". I'm just saying. These people are so conniving, that they will offer to help you and then re-route your whole thought process into you doing it yourself. They use their hypnosis abilities (the mojo) while you are awake to con you into believing that you are the one with the problem. They are attention whores. But not just anybody's attention whore... they fiend for your attention and then in turn make you their whore. They will hit you with some quick-slick shit so fast, that you won't know who/what kicked you in the ass; all while denying the whole thing some days or weeks later, making you feel like you have just lost your cotton-pickin' mind. "Well maybe it was your fault?"... that's just the mojo working on you. Whatever it is, just remember it's your problem! Not theirs. (that's the mojo talking again)

Manipulative people can seemingly be very affectionate, caring and understanding. All while you have no idea that you are being swooned out of whatever it is that they are in need of or searching for. You serve one purpose and one purpose, only. That is to be their bitch. They have the power to make you feel guilty about shit that belongs to you (your car, your house, even your mind) or not being able to provide for them whatever they feel they need or want (or not need. it doesn't matter because you're going to do it for them anyway) These snakes have the power to over-power an entire room with their ignorance and spoiled brat anecdotes. Before you know it, this fucker has injected their venom in you where you find that it's too late to take the proper precautions to suck and spit. smh. Guess where their asses are? Off manipulating someone else or either partying without one thought about you or the funky mood they left you in. Their excuse sounds something like, they had to get away from you to clear their mind. While they're getting away, you are still spinning in this tornado they created. They have no responsibility when it comes down to your emotional stability. Don't forget, that's YOUR fault. It's all about them and you either get wit' it or get lost. Once it's time to kiss and make up (on their time) they'll tell you what you want to hear and then replay this footage all over again. It's a constant cycle. Only cure is to get up and get the fuck out!

Now that we have established what your partner is, let's talk about what you are. The dummy Enabler/Fuck-ed Up. And honestly, there is no beauty in this. But first, let's depict the difference in being helpful and being an enabler. Helping someone is due to that person being unable to do or complete a task on their own. They need help. When enabling someone, you are doing something for someone (voluntarily because you're under the mojo) that they are completely capable of doing their damn selves but they choose not to because they have your dumb ass to wait on them. You are effecient with scheduling and organizing their agenda. You just have to be the dependable one because if not, the mojo this person has on you can easily send you on a Grand Vacation to Guilt. You just can't say "NO" or you will feel like a failure, incomplete, unaccomplished, OR guilty (of course). And honestly, that's not the case at all. Once again, it's the effects of the mojo. No doubtingly, you are good at what you do, in which is probably why you are the chosen one. BUT... you are also vulnerable and could be ruled out as a punk, gullible, or even weak.... lol! Never confuse these feelings with being in love. It's a very thin line. Just keeping it 100. But, really, it's not that you are that much of a softee; you're on the mojo and you're made to believe that you are doing your part for the community; giving back., trying to be a helping hand. But in reality, you are being conned or a nicer phrase may be, "taken for granted".

Promoting the manipulators behavior only makes them a bigger ass. This means that you are the contributor to those butt shots. I know it doesn't seem that way, and this may be a tough pill to swallow; but let's just be grown up about this situation, take heed of the information and own up to this bullshit you created. If you can't say "no", then you are their number 1 hype man. SO, all some of this is partly your fault. You're the "yes"-man and people with genuinely, kind and giving hearts are always the first to be preyed upon. Your helping someone just may not be helping the situation. The only thing that you are really doing is feeding a flesh-eating ego and you are the peice of meat. The ego processes this information and commence to bouncing you on your strings like the puppet that you are. But accept the fact that you will never.. ever-ever-ever-ever receive the same amount of work, effort, or respect in return.

So the only thing left to do is to turn on your BS tracker to know when you are knee deep in bullshit. Once you've gained your sanity and common sense back, sit back and look over YOUR situation: cause and effects, trials and error, stupid is as stupid does, etc. etc. How much money you have lost, time wasted and what shit you have to show for it. In this thought process, the bullshitter does not matter. If you are more afraid of what condition this asshole will be in before you are worried about your position, then you are an enabler knee deep in the shit!! Normally, enablers failed to realize that there is even a problem. I call that situation "D-E-N-I-A-L". And when you are that deep, you need to call in some heavy-hitters that's going to give it to you straight. In the meantime, regardless of the situation, keep your BS radar on at all times. You will be surprised at how many wolves hide in sheeps clothing.

Until next time bloggers....

Useless Information: The Joneses and Dem'

Based off of assumptions, the "Joneses" were the shit! LMAO!!! So being the "thinker" that I am, I had to find out who these people were, so that I can see how and why they are so notoriously famous for.... hmm! whatever it is that they are famous for. So I did what I do best at work, nothing  googling my ass off to find out, who are these "Joneses" that everyone speaks of? Much to my surprise, I find out that they are... nobody but NAMES in a comic strip, "Keeping Up with the Joneses". The "Joneses" were a figment of the main character's, in this comic strip, imagination. Although they lived next door to them (assumingly), they didn't even know who the "Joneses" were and somehow, characters that really weren't even characters (but had a name), were more famous than the main characters based off of assumptions being made. Geez! How about that? LLS!!

Clearly, Arthur R. "Pop" Momand, the author of this comic strip tells us in a sublime form how cliche'd life is and can be. There had to be a reason why they never met the "Joneses" and why shit always, somehow, got fucked up when trying to imitate what they assumed the "Joneses" to be doing. You still with me? How are you feeling now? lol. Anyways, the main characters were made out of asses for the entire 26 years that this comic strip ran... too busy trying to keep up with the damn "Joneses". I'm going to get to my point, but I had to school you on this history for a quick second. So here they are looking like asses, while the "Joneses" are doing what? EXACTLY!!! You don't know right? LLS!! I swear I am the shit!!

Now, let's tackle some reality situations here. In my opinion... and this is just my opinion, there are lots of things that can and should be done in moderation to achieve a particular image, if that's what you strive for. I just don't see how someone can want something so bad that they are willing to sacrifice the necessities to get what they want and really don't need. I sit back and watch people around me who continuously flaunt their definition of glitz and glam, while in the meantime, there are other people that you just can't front for because they know your personal. Let me give you an example:

There was this girl who began working for the same company I work for. Now, I don't go out often but I had just recently went to a comedy show and seen her there. She's not cute and really jiggly, but not really fat (if you can draw a picture from that) Either way, it looks really sloppy, but that's besides the point. Her hair was done and she had on a cute outfit, nice shoes, makeup done... the works! You would quickly be under the assumption that she got her shit together. Right? Well once she began working, the pigeons start talking. For some odd reason, I'm the go-to person and it's probably because they know I stay to myself, although, I am really friendly. So one ear was filled with, her lights are off. The other filled with, she doesn't have her kids because she can't afford to keep her utilities paid or food in the fridge. I'm thinking, how can you not keep food in the fridge if you receive foodstamps? I couldn't resist asking. She sells them to go get her hair and nails done so that she can go to the club. Really?!??!!

I wasn't sure how to process the information, but right before one of the pigeons flew away, they tweeted out, too busy trying to keep up with the Joneses. And although I had heard this figure of speech more times than one, it kind of made me wonder, "who are these people?!"



I find it really hard to believe that a drink and a 2 step outside of your humble abode can be any more comfortable. Maybe I'm just a little overly pride-ful about things that I have worked so hard for. Pretending to be someone that you're not or someone who doesn't even exist, goes far, far beyond simple imagination. Not only are we ALL getting weighed down in a world that is clearly unaffordable, we're getting lost in debt and the real reality of life when it starts to actually kick your ass. And that bitch can fight!!! You fell behind on your bills because you just had to have a bottle of Ciroc. You couldn't afford that new alternator for your car because you just had to have a new outfit to attend the concert. And where you lack the necessary, you lack common sense because with or without this flashy bullshit that everyone keeps chasing after, how much more broke or stupid are you going to look with eviction notices plastered on your door while you are sitting in the dark? You find most "Jones' "chasers screaming, "you only get one life to live". Well that is true, but the last thing I would want people to remember about me is how I spent many of my days trying to fit in or be included. That my cause of death was due to stress because I was not able to pay my bills... but nevertheless, I was the life of the fucking party!! Nope. Can't do it. The Joneses can kiss my ass.

Until next time bloggers...