Thursday, December 31, 2009

Day 365 (The Real Folk Blues)

The past is the past and the future is the future. A man is a man and a woman is a woman. The present is the present. I am who I am and you are who you are. That's all there is to it. Does it really matter? Or do we just think it does?

No end of the year diatribe. Just well wishes for everyone to have a happy new year.

I leave you with this: have the ability to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. If you want to dream, dream alone. That way, you control the outcome of your dreams.

Goodnight, 2009.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Day 364 (Separation Issues...)

Separate the real from the fake, the milk from the silicone
The cornbread from the pads, the gym from the Body Magic you put on at home
The glasses from the colored contacts, the natural from the weave
The handcuffed from the engaged, the truth from the lies you believe
The polish from the acrylic, the attention grabber from the attention whore
The woman you love from the woman you met at the grocery store
The beauty inside from the makeup made up on the outside
The one who has your heart from the one who can backslide

I'm having major separation issues, but I know exactly what to do...
Real recognize real... and I don't know you. *walks away*

Monday, December 28, 2009

Day 362 (Music Monday)

Things I Learned In 2009 #7: iTunes Shuffle hates my logic and embraces my emotions.

Let me explain.

So, on Twitter, Mondays are reserved for music, hence the hashtag #MusicMonday. Usually on Monday while I answer emails and silly questions (Her: Email me a copy of this email, please? Me: Um, I just did. In that very email.), I put my iTunes on random and let my near 40,000 songs go crazy.

Well, a couple of Mondays ago, I listened to a lot of stuff, from Korn to Tricky to the Seatbelts, even some Slum Village... but then it got kinda weird.

iTunes was trying to stab me in the heart.

Mayer Hawthorne. Portishead. Little Dragon. Corinne Bailey Rae. Röyksopp. Sia. Then towards the end of the day, it kicked me. Hard.

Adele came on.

And I wanted to throw my laptop out the window.

I have an unresolved issue with someone that I need to clear up in 3 days. I will not carry this bad memory into next year with me. I refuse to. At the same time, this person is going through their own emotional roller coaster, so part of me is saying it'll be selfish to add this to the list of problems they have, let it go; obviously they have, why not you?

The other part of me is screaming 'Does it matter?'

Logically, it doesn't matter. We haven't had a real conversation in almost 3 months. Logically, it's already dead and gone; nothing to answer, nothing to say. Logically, I'm the only person trying to save a friendship that's long gone. Logically, I need to just walk away.

However, music affects my emotions. Heavily. Has been doing so since 1988. Possibly earlier. So, when Adele's 'Melt My Heart To Stone' came on, logically, I was thinking in work mode.

But emotionally, I was cracking up. And I don't mean laughing.

Emotionally, I still want 2 questions of mine answered. Emotionally, I need closure. What's worse is, emotionally, if I don't get it, I'll do some foolishness.

With no logic involved.

But of course, this was all in my head (and in my ears). My heart has shed that old skin and moved forward to greener pastures. The minute Mos Def popped up in my mix, I was back to nodding my head and tapping my desk.

Why wait until 2010 to make a resolution that I can resolve now?

I refuse to let people make me their personal mood ring anymore. Your attitude and emotions will not affect my color. I've been through enough; no need to drag my heart through any more.

Music, though?

Yeah, music will still tug my heart strings.

Things I Learned In 2009 #7: iTunes Shuffle hates my logic and embraces my emotions.
Now playing: The Seatbelts - Memory
via FoxyTunes

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Day 356 (2 Nights Before Christmas)

'Twas two nights before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, well, maybe my mouse;

Her stockings were hung on the door with care,

In hopes that I soon would be there;

She was nestled all snug in her bed,

While visions of breasts danced in my head;

And sexy mamma in her négligée, and I got my 'cap',

Got ready for 'work' and a "long winter's nap",

When out on the lawn I heard my car window shatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window *WAIT* I don't need to flash,

Pulled off the sheet and threw on the sash.

The moon on the breast of the now-gone snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to my car below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a wobbly Santa without eight reindeer,

With a little woman driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be Mrs. St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his bags they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Sony! Now, iPod! Now, Mini TV's and Video Vixens!

On, GPS! On Gas Money! On, Droid, we blitzing!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

To break in- he sees us! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So away from the house- down the street they flew,

With the car full of toys, (my toys) and Mrs. Claus too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard not a poof

But the squealing of tires- wait, did they break the moon roof?

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

I heard the back door crash with a sound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of my toys he had in his sack,

And he looked like a peddler just trying to sell them back.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

Until he realized it was him, that guy I know;

The stump of a blunt he held tight in his teeth,

And the weed smoke: it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a big Desert Eagle and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby, no, fat, a wrongfully jolly old elf,

And I got angry when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I not better chase him, instead;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And took all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a what's up nod, he even took my wife's rose;

He sprang to his car, to his girl gave a whistle,

And away they both drove off like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to me, 'cause I'm robbing all night!"

© She Hate Me 2009

Totally random, I know. But I was bored. Meh.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Day 348 (Pieces...)

She was too big for him, he was too big for her; that was the truth. The relationship had never really progressed, it had simply fallen apart into a series of fragments.

She embodied everything that he'd ever wanted out of a life partner; spontaneity, humor, intelligence, sexiness.

He embodied everything that she'd ever wanted out of a life partner; sexiness, intelligence, humor, spontaneity.

Almost as if looking into a mirror. Almost as if they were soulmates. Almost as if they were twins.

To say he was scared is an overstatement. Nervous is more like it. He treated her like a Fabergé egg; put her on a pedestal that she never wanted to be on.

He knew this, yet he did it anyway.

In some ways, she was scared too. Too many times she thought to herself that this type of relationship doesn't exist, that the major issue was that there were no major issues. It made her nervous.

They parted ways, without communication, without acknowledgment. A series of fragments. Different people came along and picked up what pieces were left, but none were salvageable.

He missed looking at her; a forest that he could lose himself forever in: and almost did.

She missed being with him; quirky yet humorous charm, a sense of being and self realization.

Yet, for every time they thought about doing the dance again, another partner stepped in, the music would change, or the party would end.

For what seemed to be the first time in human history, 'what was' turned into 'what if'.

How disappointing for them. No glue to bond them together again. No bond strong enough to hold them together again. No more together again. The fantasy shattered.

Pieces, pieces.

Tiny. Splintering. Painful. Pieces.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Day 342 (The Game)

**NOTE** I began writing this back in July. I wanted to publish it, the problem was, the story had some hiccups and I.... never mind. However, I feel like I need to get this out. It is long, but it does have a point and purpose. Read it if you want to. Thank you. **END NOTE**

I sat there for 7-8 minutes.


She had left me in the car. Closed the door and went into her apartment building. Did tha- did that really just happen? I can't believe it.

I stare off into space replaying the events that happened today. I haven't moved a muscle since she said good night. Then, almost as if on cue, I start laughing.

Laughing hard and long. Laughing at myself. I was an idiot. The advantages were there, the opportunities were there, the openings presented themselves and what did I do?


In a daze, I start the car and pull off. I get to light at the end of the corner, and I hear two females outside yelling. I turn my head, and they are pointing at me. I can't hear them, all I hear is the blood rushing through my veins. The car behind me beeps the horn. The light has been green for a while. I make my left hand turn and drive over the bridge. I'm still in total disbelief. Was a spark there? Was that my chance for the first-

Horns are blaring at me. The car behind me is flashing his lights. I have no idea what for. I drive to the end of the corner, and a car pulls beside me. A man pops his head out the window and says "YO! CUT YOUR HEADLIGHTS ON!" I look down and see that I haven't cut my lights on. I haven't even buckled my seat belt.

I complete the aforementioned tasks and turn on the interstate. Immediately, my mind travels to 4 and a half hours earlier. Back when everything was cool. Back when I still had a plan.

Back when I was still in the game.

She opens the car door and gets in. "So, how are you?"

I smile. She was always friendly. "I'm good, how are you? Ready to eat?"

"Yes! I'm starving!"

As I pulled away from the corner, I glanced at her. Wearing a mostly green top with splashes of brown, white and black colors interspersed, some black pants, and some green sandals, she looked quite beautiful. I chuckle to myself; she caught me staring. Check. Early.

"What?" She cocks her head to the side.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." I make eye contact.

"Hey, where are we going to eat?"

"Applebee's." I break eye contact. I'm out of check.

"Then, don't you think you need to be in the left lane?"

"Oh." I get into the left had lane and go down the road. We talk about the last time that we ate at Applebee's 4 weeks ago. As I turn into the parking lot, we bring up the reason why she didn't want to eat there.

"So, let me get this right. You don't want to eat here because that lady that was picking her feet and eating her food at the same time might be here?"

She laughs. "Exactly. This is why women let men think they are making the executive decisions, but in the end, the women make them. Oooh, this place is crowded."

I smirk. "Then I'm making an executive decision, and we're gonna go to Ruby Tuesday. How do you like them apples?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "Ruby Tuesday is fine. Kinda where I wanted to go in the first place, but you know..."

Damn. Even when I think I'm making the decision, she had made it already. My first line of defense is already gone.

A wrong turn and a couple of steering wheel grabs later, we end up at Ruby Tuesday. After getting seated and ordering our drinks, she takes off her sandals and places her feet on top of mine. We get comfortable and then the serious conversation begins.

"So, I've been thinking about what I told you last night."

"Hmm. And what have you been thinking, my dear?"

She looks deep into my eyes. I can hold this gaze for about 10 seconds tops before I have to turn away; her eyes are very arresting. "I don't think that a relationship will work between us." Check.

"Well, why not?" I ask.

"Because... because I don't want a 'yes man' and from what you've been telling me over the years about me and what you desire, you would give me everything I ever ask for, you would agree with me just to make me happy, and to be honest, I'm not this... this queen that you've built me up to be. If we get together, I'll make you think to your self 'I don't like this bitch as much as I thought I would'. I've done it to other men that I've dated. And I don't want to do that to you."

I sip my tea before I answer. "Is that what you think? You think that I'll be like other men? You think that I'll agree with you on whatever and not have my own opinion?"


"It doesn't matter what you think, darling." She looks at me quizzically. I continue. "There is a difference between me and other men, quite frankly, they aren't me, could never be me, and I'm not them. So, don't lump me into the same position as them."

"I'm not doing that. I just know how other men have done with me and-"

"So, you're saying that I'll be like them. You won't give me an opportunity to prove you right by entering into a relationship with me, and if I say that I'm not like them, it's just words, it doesn't mean anything. Action speaks louder."

I can tell by the look on her face that she's impressed. I counter her check with one of my own.

We sit there for almost 45 minutes before we even order, and when we do order, we get the salad bar. The waitress, who was bubbly in the beginning, is upset that we don't even order off the menu. She grabs our menus and storm off.

We start talking about things we like and we realize that we have a lot more in common that we originally thought. It gets weird almost, like we were best friends growing up together. Then the obvious comes up; we have our first parity.

"Black Tux or White Tux at our wedding?"

I smile. "Black. Sorry, I'm not wearing white."

She frowns. "No, my husband will wear white."

"Then I guess I will become your husband then, I'm just not wearing white."

She cocks her head to the side. "Did you not hear me, I said my husband will wear whit-"

"I heard you." I interrupt her. "And this is proof positive that a relationship will work if we put in the work; I will NOT be your yes man, and I have my own ideas. You won't get everything you want from me, because I'm not wearing white. And if we disagree on that, something that important to you, what makes you think we won't disagree on other things?"

She smiles, then straightens her face up quickly. "Maybe we should go eat."

I shake my head. "Maybe we should."

She gets up. "But first, I need to fix my face in the restroom, you just said something fierce to me."

I smile. "Yeah, you should go do that." She smiles back and goes to the restroom. I put her into check.

The night continues like this, back and forth, check, check, check. At the parking lot at Wal-Mart, she had me in a MAJOR check, flirting with me, touching me, daring me to act on my carnal desires.

Walking between two cars to get to mine, she stops. I bump into her backside. I don't move. Neither does she.

"Do you like that? You like how it feels?" She began taunting me. "Go ahead. Touch it. You know you want to."

I swallow hard. My mouth gets dry immediately. "I- I, uh.." I clear my throat. "Yeah, I like that. but you better move before-"

She giggles. "Before what? What are you gonna do?" She turns around and whispers in my ear. "If I give it to you, would you take me right now in the parking lot?"


"I, uh. Hm. I don't think you want me to do it here. Not only would you like it, but we'd get arrested for lewd conduct and disturbing the peace because of noise ordnance." I stuttered that one out.

She laughs and walks to the car. "Uh huh. Right."

I'm out of check. But I'm not out of danger.

We go to a pool hall to shoot some pool. There's some trash talking, as we were prone to do and some teasing as well. Our body language has let the other patrons looking at her sensual walk and my confident stride know that we are in competition with each other; not only for the domination of the table, but for control of the sexual tension building between us. I easily take the first game. The second game is where things got interesting... and where I lost my most important pieces.

Frowning playfully she says, "OK, you won. Your break." She smiles at me.

I rack the pool balls and prepare to break when I see her bent over the other end of the pool table. Her cleavage is deep; she's pulling her shirt down a lot lower than what it was.

"Um, don't you want to move? This cue ball gets jumpy when I break."

She grins. "You don't worry about me. Just break."

I chuckle. "I can't, you're in the way."

She grins harder. "OK, I'll move." She stands up and walks over to me. She comes close to my ear and...

...does nothing but breathe.

"Can you break now? I would like to play today."

I take a deep breath and prepare my shot. As I push my cue stick forward, she blows a short and light stream of air in my ear. My arm jerks, my shot goes wide, and I scratch on break.

We're tied 1-1.

Also, I'm in check.

She smiles as she goes to reset the pool balls. I shake my head.

Now I scowl playfully. "OK, you win, your break." I grin.

She shakes her head. "I can't break that well."

I smile. "Here. Let me help you." She holds the pool stick properly as I come from behind her and hold her. She grinds her backside into my crotch. I ignore the swelling in my slacks as I whisper in her ear.

"Hold the stick like this. That's right. Make sure you grip it well with your right hand. And tight. Move the stick up and down like this with your left hand. Good. Now pull back as far as you can go and..."

She goes to make her shot and I lightly kiss the back of her neck. Her shot goes wild, the cue ball lands on the floor, and she laughs.

She asked, "What was that?"

I smile. "Nothing. You did good, though."

We continue like this through three more games. At one point, she privately shows me her breasts while I was trying to make the game winning shot. At another point, I slap her ass while she's trying to make a shot. The sexual tension has grown to a fever pitch. We exit the establishment and I lose my queen.

In the parking lot, she stops and asks me a question.

"So, you grabbed it. Squeezed it. Did you like how it felt?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I could never get the right handle on a pool stick."

She chuckles. "You know what I'm talking about. When you were behind me, did you imagine you handling this from the back?" She bends over slightly.

"I didn't imagine anything." I'm trying not to look at her curves, but my eyes defy me.

She sneers gently. "Oh really? Well, I felt your friend, and your friend said that he liked it. A lot. And HE was definitely thinking about handling this from the back."

I laugh. "Well, he does have a mind of his own."

I go to open the car door for her and she comes close. She unbuckles my pants and puts her hand on my member.

"Maybe not right now... but you MIGHT be able to handle this." She laughs and gets in the car.

I stand there. Stunned. My heart racing a million miles a minute. I feel every beat of my heart in my throat and in my boxers. My Queen is gone.


As we are going back to her home for me to drop her off, she leans over and puts her head on my shoulder.

"You're quiet. Did I go to far?"

I shake my head while smiling. "No. I'm imagining right now."

"What's on your mind, honey?" She scoots closer.

As we pull up in front of her place, I let her know. "Kissing you. Wondering what your tongue would taste like in my mouth. Wondering if our tongues will match pace with each other. Wondering if we kiss, how far we will go."


We stare at each other for a long time. The heat in the car has risen; I'm starting to get a dry mouth. She looks at me. I look at her. She smiles slowly. I do the same. I move in for the kiss and...

"Ok, I'm going in the house now. Call me when you get home safely?"

I stammer. "Wait, what? That's it?"

She laughs. "What do you mean 'That's it?' Yeah, that's it. It IS the end of the date, you know."

Damn. Checkmate. My kingdom, toppled by a queen.

She leans back in the car and kisses me on the cheek. "I guess maybe next time, you'll want to stop wondering and just do it. Good night, honey."

She closes the door and walks up the sidewalk. She turns around and waves, then laughs because I still have the same 'I can't believe that just happened' look on my face. She walks up to her door and disappears inside.

I sat there for 7-8 minutes.


She had left me in the car. Closed the door and went into her apartment building. Did tha- did that really just happen? I can't believe it.

I've just been checkmated. In a game that I didn't even know I was playing until my King was toppled. I was toyed with all across the board, from beginning to end. From the first move I made, I was a Pawn pretending to be King. I was bested tonight. I was checkmated.

And I enjoyed every last minute of it.

Now playing: Common - I Want You
via FoxyTunes

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Tiger... 1 Wood, 2 (or 3?) different holes...

Ok, so, normally, I'm not that outspoken.

I'm lying.

I'm outspoken to a degree. When I see a topic that I passionately care about, I usually can argue debate all day about it.

Today, I logged onto Twitter, and I see people talking about Tiger and his inability to keep it at home.

As if you were really that surprised.

It has NOTHING to do with him being a MAN. It had EVERYTHING to do with him being RICH.

What's crazy is, people were trending (#side chick awareness) as if it was some sort of rules to being a man (or a woman's) side piece. Here's a shocker for you:


Once you make that conscience decision to cheat, the rules are done. Somebody in the "relationship" is going to get hurt. I used relationship in quotation marks because it's not real. It wasn't real the minute you didn't speak to your partner about what you were feeling.

Communication is key in a relationship. I've preached that since forever.

Anyway, I didn't want to get into it at first because I'm nobody's mirror. I'm no Dr. Phil (yeah, I don't give people a bunch of psychobabble and call it "help") and I was just indifferent about the whole thing.

But four friends of mine told me to go in. I smiled, cracked my knuckles, and here's the end result: **NOTE: I'm not changing one word of what I said. I may be adding a word here or there because Twitter only allows 140 characters at a time, but this is what I said, verbatim.**
First off, Men: Stop letting these million (and billion) dollar dudes dictate how you act with your wife. They can afford to cheat. You can't. Steve Harvey can marry and divorce to his heart's content. Why? He got money. So does Shaq. Apparently, so does Tiger. You? NO. You still work 50 hour work weeks. And some woman walks in the office with a short skirt; next thing you know, you knocking it down. Then you wonder why your woman, your sister & your momma calls you a dog. Because you are. Period. Stop blaming women for YOUR lack of will. Pussy has NO power, as long as you don't give it any. If you in a relationship, there IS no side chick. There's the woman you "love" and the women you "fucking". That's it. But you don't see that, do you? You don't love her. Stupid motherfucker. If you love her, ask her to suck your dick differently. Ask her to wear a wig. Ask her to dress up. Ask her to stop (or start) bitching. Women who LOVE their man are willing to be a different woman EVERY night for him. Period. You simple dudes don't know that, because you don't ASK. Closed mouths don't get fed, you thirsty bastards.

Now, women: (Oh yes, you gets it too...) STOP LOOKING AT OTHER WOMEN'S MEN. *ahem* You want to know the REAL reason why men cheat? Because some women can't keep their pussy at home. YOU KNOW HE WITH HER. But you don't care. "He got money." "He got good credit." "She told me he be SLANGING that thing." And you're jealous. You're a woman. Men aren't THAT hard to find. A good one? Yes. But hell, if you wanted a good man, you'd be a good woman. Logic, ladies. Stop blaming men for being "dogs". You're a "bitch", what does that say about you? I'm not talking physically, but DAMN. Can you straighten up? Stop asking for HIS money. You got your own, right? Stop driving HIS car. You ALWAYS singing Beyonce, then act like her. BE YOUR OWN WOMAN. BE YOURSELF. If your besty is a slore, chances are, so are you. You are the company you keep, you know.

It's not that hard to be committed, ladies and gentlemen. You find a woman you like, don't lie to her, and it's ALL GOOD. Ladies, stop playing mind games. It's ok to say you really like him. Your best friend just mad cause she didn't talk to him first. Men, stop trying to be MACHO. Nigga, you got feelings, too. So what, you like the girl enough to shred your "Playa's Card". Who cares? That's ONE LESS WOMAN after me when I get involved with someone. If men kept their women happy, there would be no cheating men. And vice versa. *drops mic*

That was pretty much it. It's one or two points that I didn't say on Twitter that I will say now. First off, it's not about Tiger being a man and that old "all men cheat" thing. It's not. Stop deluding yourself.

Tiger is an ignorant rich person.

You don't believe me, huh? Ok. Look at it this way:

Tiger tells his wife the truth, long before he cheats. "I'm not attracted to you that much anymore. Sex is disgusting with you. You're boring. You're turning black. Blah, blah, blah. I want to get some other women." Once he does that, Elin has two choices: stay, or go. If she stays, she enjoys the money, the lifestyle, etc. If she goes, she gets NOTHING. Why? There was no breech of the pre-nuptial agreement. He didn't cheat, he simply told her he wanted to. In the state of Florida, where they live, a significant other cannot receive damages for irreconcilable differences if they have a pre-nup. So, Elin gets nothing. She walks away with her dignity... and a couple of thousand dollars. Logically speaking, Tiger could've have put her in a "kept woman" status. Us, the public? None the wiser, unless he passed away first from old age and she releases a tell-all book.

And for those that are thinking only rich men do that, well....

*looks at Oprah and Stedman.... looks at Debra L. Lee and her kept man*


Leslie McRay (Google her) was the most famous kept woman in all of Hollywood. THAT'S how you play the game, folks.

If you're going to play, know the rules.

Tiger didn't know the rules, and he's paying for it, BIG TIME. The women who are outing themselves as Tiger's side pieces may find a man to be with them for right now... but come on. Yeah, you're fine (subjective, you're not all that cute to me), but what does it matter? All you are is an object for a man's pleasure. You may have gotten the best of them, but only after they got what they wanted from you to begin with. They got the best you had to offer. Those decent men that you're gonna say don’t exist, but really do… well, they don’t exist, not for you. They are going to pass you over. Let’s face it… you aren’t what they call ‘relationship material.’ You’re the type that most men wouldn’t clean their homes for, let alone the backseat of their cars. Because when men smile at you… you know what’s behind that smile. All you are is a beautiful body with an ugly soul. People may want you, but nobody will love you.

And that goes doubly true for men with all money and no soul. Money can only get you so much... love is NOT one of them.

Two, for both sexes: Yes, I truly believe that if you love your wife/S.O./girlfriend, then you shouldn't cheat. Bottom line. However (and this is NOT a pass to cheat, people), if you eat chicken every night in the same way, one night, beef is gonna look REAL GOOD to you. Even if someone cooked that beef wrong as hell, you'll eat it anyway because you're tired of that same old chicken.

But, there are over 1,000 different ways to cook chicken. Even if you take 365 of those ways and cook chicken differently every night, you'll be happy when that first dish comes back around.

Even better, you'll find out what chicken dishes you REALLY like and ask for them more often. Soon, you won't even care about beef.

Now replace the food with your relationship.

It's truly simple. And for those that say it isn't, that it's hard because of whatever wack ass reason you come up with, I say this to you: Are you single right now? Because if not...'re gonna be. And it's all your fault. Period.

Let's stop worrying about Tiger. He'll be fine. You have to make a mistake to learn a lesson sometimes, and he just did. I promise, Elin isn't going nowhere. Look at Vanessa, Kobe's wife.


Take a moment to asses your relationship before you comment on someone else's relationship. There are women and men who want their S.O. to only have them in their life, but they got 50 other women and men floating around.

If you're cool with being second place, by all means, play your position and shut the hell up about it. If you know you're the side piece, you can't get mad when s/he cuts you off, or when S/HE cuts him/her off and s/he has to cut YOU off.

OH, and a free piece of advice: If you're in a relationship and you just HAVE to cheat, STOP LEAVING A ELECTRONIC TRAIL. Tiger, nigga, you worth a billion dollars! Get your gopher to go to this girl house and break her damn SIM card! Stop sending emails and texts and pictures! If you know you in a relationship, your side piece should be Santa Claus: that person don't exist! Never have, never will! You might see her/him dressed up in the mall certain seasons, but it's just a costume! A figment of your imagination!


I think I'm too smart for my own good. I just outed every person cheating.

Oh well. Better chances for me to find a good woman.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Day 335 (Astronomy...)

Things I Learned In 2009 #6: There is still beauty left in this world.

Tonight, I saw a Halo around the moon. I was amazed. While I studied the phenomenon of Halos around the moon in Astronomy in college, I had never seen one myself. It was the most amazing thing I've seen this year. What is a Halo, you ask?

A halo (also known as a nimbus, icebow or Gloriole) is an optical phenomenon produced by ice crystals creating colored or white arcs and spots in the sky. Many are near the sun or moon but others are elsewhere and even in the opposite part of the sky. They can also form around artificial lights in very cold weather when ice crystals called diamond dust are floating in the nearby air.

What I saw tonight was a circular halo. It made me think and realize that there are still very beautiful things that I have not experienced yet in this world, and that I need to take time out to experience them. I called a friend of mine and woke her out of bed to see it. At first, she thought something was wrong but once I got her to step outside (and after calmly telling her that the moon is not falling), she also thought that it was beautiful.

I think the halo is a wake up call for me. I've been doing things off base for the past month; acting really out of character for myself. Emotionally, I've been stable, but mentally, I've been in and out of things, and this halo made me realize that I need to put things back in all the right spots so that I can go into this next decade with a renewed sense of self.

To everyone I've ever hurt and to everyone that hurt me: I'm sorry and I forgive you.

To everyone that I support and to everyone that supports me: Thank you and you're welcome.

To everyone I've ever loved and to everyone that has ever loved me: *salutes* You are truly respected.

To everyone that loves me now and to everyone I love now: You are truly appreciated.

Things I Learned In 2009 #6: There is still beauty left in this world.

P.S. You're the shining example of beauty still left in this world, Ladybug. *bacio di bacio*


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