Problem Child

My mother said I was absolutely the worst child anyone could ever bring into this world.

"One of us is leaving this world and it isn't going to be me."

By the age of 3, I had evolved into this selfish, misanthropic wench refusing to take orders from anyone.

So mother ordered me to clean my room. "No,"I quickly told her. For some strange reason, she believed locking me in a chamber was going to teach me a lesson.

This was simply ludicrous to me. "Why should I listen to anything she says?"

I unlocked the door and strutted into the living room where my mom was watching TV. She watched me with mere concentration as I pranced directly in front of the television set. I walked with a kind of saunter as if I didn't have a care in the world.

While focusing in on her face, I pulled my pants down, squatted and took a shit right there on her living room carpet.

Appalled, outraged, and uneasy, my mom just about had enough, and it was that very moment, she believed she was going to jail for the murder of her first born.

She then sent me to the kitchen and told me to sit down while she baked a cake for my father's birthday.

I soon grew restless observing my mom as she mixed up ingredients in my favorite red bowl. I felt as if I should be doing something. I was missing out on all the action.

The doorbell rang! "Stay put," said my mom. "I'll be right back so don't touch ANYTHING."

This should be easy I thought. 3 or 4 minutes had gone by and I was starting to get itchy feet.

"That cake mix sure does smell good, and it looks good too, sitting in that bowl all messy and stuff."

I unhesitatingly dipped my finger into the bowl just to get a taste. What's one taste going to hurt; she will never know.

Before I knew it, I was dipping my fingers into the bowl and onto my scalp. It was cool and refreshing.

"My mom shouldn't mind this at all. What harm could anything to do my hair if it smelt this good?"

"You're nothing but a damn problem child!"

"That's what you are!"

"You need a playmate!"

"Oh lord, I knew I should've had another child right after you"

By the time she delivered that last line, the cake mix had deeply sunk into my scalp.

I mean it was everywhere. It looked as if someone had dropped an entire box of baking soda onto my head.

Infuriated, mommy dearest did what she knew best: She beat me!

She beat me all day long. Whenever she was reminded of cake mix or dog shit, I awoke to the sounds of belt straps working over my back. By the end of the day, red thick welts began to form all over my body.

By the time my father arrived, I had given up. I was already packing my things. Well things I believed would protect me from the dark and lonely world: A pickle cheese sandwich and my Flo Jo Barbie doll with the long pink finger nails.

In retrospect, I don't know which was more disturbing: The fact that I considered running away at such a young age or the idea of my mom allowing me to run away at a such a young age.

My mom still recounts those stories with me saying I was the problem child of the century, the worst child anyone could ever bring into this world.

But at least I was HER problem child, and no matter how much of a pain in the ass I was, nothing was ever going to keep us apart.

Happy Birthday Mr. President

All week I had been trying to think of something to say during my big meeting with the president. I had just won a prestigious writer's award, so President Bush decided to honor me and a few others at the whitehouse.


I couldn't believe it; I was actually accepting a respectable award from a man who thinks Africa is a nation.


I was confused: Should I be elated or merely concerned for my future?


Ten minutes later a limousine arrived, and I was one step closer to having all my dreams come true. On the way to the whitehouse, I thought of several hot topics to address with Mr. President. Maybe we could discuss the peaceful co-existence between human and fish or maybe he could explain what that actually means. If our president is revered as one of the most honest and virtuous men in our country, why do I get the feeling he knows where to get some blowe?


Here we are: Ten steps away from the Big White!
The moment I stepped into the oval office I was floured with all these feelings of pleasure. I had to tell someone, but everyone looked incredibly tense with fear, so I decided to lighten up the mood a bit. I looked over at the woman standing next to me and said:

"Is it me or has President Bush grown incredibly sexy within the last year."


"Uhmmm...." The young woman murmured under her breath. She completely ignored my inept remark about the president and continued to sip her club soda.
"No need to answer, I just thought I would get the word out."
There he was, unlike any man I had ever seen before: sagacious, kind, and easy going. There was a brief moment of silence, as everyone quickly scanned him with their eyes.
So what if he wasn't aware that blacks existed in other countries; and so what if he was kind enough to ask the President of Brazil if they had blacks too-maybe he was trying to make small talk. He was, in my opinion, utterly breathtaking. The idea of repressing my salacious thoughts about him any longer was too much to bear.


"He should know the truth."
"Oh dear president, if only you knew I entered this contest, not just to accept an award from you but only to be closer to you."
"Ok, here goes!"
Mr. President!
Startled by my untimely outburst, everyone quickly glanced in my direction.
Mr. President. There's something I want you to know, and I just can't control it in any longer.
"Yes, what is it?"
"I..."
Before I was able to deliver my lines of romantic poetry, I noticed people started laughing.
"I just wanted to say that I love you."
Everyone laughed even harder.
Laconic in my expressions of love, I'm sure people found it difficult to believe that a man with Bush's charm and intelligence could ever find a woman like me sexually appealing; I mean after all , he did grow up in a desert. How could any respectable woman ever compete with that?
One of the reporters walked up to me and whispered:
"I think you might want to go to the bathroom."
Distressed and confused I rushed to the bathroom.
Oh man! What could it possibly be: a misplaced hair, ingrown nail, an unexpected visit from Aunt Menorrhea.
As soon as I stepped into the bathroom, there they were, bold as day and bright as the sun, sticking right through my shirt.
"What was I going to do, they just wouldn't go away."
There was no way I could accept my award like this; all hope was lost. I quietly escaped through the back door leaving no trace of my wretched disposition.
Riding in the cab on the way home, I thought of how I was one step closer to becoming the 2nd lady.
I picked up the phone. It was President Bush calling me to convey his admiration for my brave acts of love. He said no young lady had ever expressed romantic feelings for him in that way, and then he proceeded to give me an impressionable spiel on tribal sovereignty.
If there's one thing I've learned from this unfortunate event today it's that: Although George W. Bush has not been our most eloquent speaking president, his words still continue to manifest in all the hearts and minds of America.
And for this reason reason I've decided to duck tape my nipples whenever I go out.









Has President Bush ever made an impact on your life?

A moment

Let's chase our shadows under the rainbow

followed by the path of the sun

as our love manifests itself through colour

and the heavens smile down upon our faces

lifting our spirits into a plume of clouds

and at night we'll face each other

under the moon shining so brightly

as darkness takes us

everywhere but nowhere

making the motion in a picture come true

nothing in this world exists

but our peace of minds so sound

Love: Something learned or something inborn?

Somewhere over the rainbow, you will find me

I nurtured the idea of you leaving him. I desperately wanted to be there for you. It felt good for once, that you actually needed me. The thought of someone like you actually needing pathetic ol me. I say pathetic because it's often a misguided perception of myself.


I look to you for hope, exhilaration, and uplifting advice, but instead you berate me like a four year old child. It's okay to be myself around you, just as long as it stays within your ideals of not who I am, but who you want me to be.


I understand your projected anger towards me at the moment, and I can only say I battle the same demons within myself from time to time. You say I need to learn how to deal with my emotions, but sometimes I'm unable to process what I'm feeling at the moment, and you see this as a weakness.

"Blah Blah Blah! No one understands you! The whole world's against you."

"How many times have I heard this dreadful line?"

"The entire world's against president Bush; you don't see him blogging about it."


"You tolerate other's ignorance, you should speak up more."

Yes, this is one of the many unresolved conflicts I loathe to face day after day. The question is why is it so difficult for me to confront people about my emotions?

Could it be that you're a woman....

It's because I feel I shouldn't have any emotions. Or no, wait maybe it's because when I finally do muster up enough courage to deliver, you make my thoughts and feelings seem so trivial to everything else in the world.

What is this....Ricki Lake

It could also be that I'm so afraid of people knowing the truth about me, so I hold back. And the truth is that I care; it doesn't determine the outcome of my life or predict the next outfit I'm going to wear, but it hurts.

"Their piercing words seep through my bleeding heart."

I hide behind what's real. I hide behind the real me because deep down inside I'm afraid people won't accept me.

So the question of the evening? Why do I need people to accept me- this unresolved issue lingering inside me.

I feel so unworthy of everyone's love and attention because I'm so afraid of finding it within myself. Maybe once I find it, I'll have to deal with what's really there and live with it day after day.

"Accept yourself, so that you won't need acceptance from anyone else."

Yes, I understand you're going through something. But I'm antagonizing myself with all these irrational thoughts of who I'm supposed to be. It may not be that important to you, but it's real to me.

Just because I can't have a candid discussion with you about what I'm going through, doesn't mean I don't love you. You're growing as a person, and I think it's fair to say I'm doing the same.

"Someone as strong and independent as me carries the burden of having it all figured it out."

"Did you just say you were strong; I'm sorry are we reading the same blog post here?"


Critical thinking questions....

Would you consider yourself a strong and independent individual?

Do you feel as if you always carry other people's burdens?

Do you think your closest friends truly accept and understand who you are as a person?

Love

Love- an untamed force inexplicably challenging yet dangerously rewarding.
What is love?

We are faced with this question everyday of our lives.
He doesn't love me anymore. My insecurities have not only confused him, but drove him into the arms of another woman.

Love -something learned or something taught

I made him feel like he wasn't enough, and now he doesn't want me.
I chose to seek happiness through him instead of finding it within myself , and now he's gone.

Love-something we can't run away from; we must learn to face it.

When we broke up, he withdrew emotionally; I couldn't understand why. Maybe he was afraid. Men usually distant themselves from women when they are afraid. I should've welcomed him with open arms when he came back to me, but instead I recalcitrated against every insensitive proposal he had.

One ticket for heaven please!

As humans we often torture our minds, hearts, and souls. I've plotted a million different ways to commit suicide but could never bring myself to go through with it. Is it because I love myself too much? Or maybe I'm afraid of where I might end up when I die? I never imagined life could be so difficult. There's no one waiting with all the answers. What's even more frustrating is trying to find the answers within yourself. Is it really supposed to be this complicated?

I wish I knew. One would think it should come easier with age. The older you get the more you know; but getting older is about doing the right thing with what you know and making the right decisions. So every decision I make will affect me for the rest of my life? Well, that's just too much pressure. I'd rather torture myself, and I do.

And I'm losing myself in the process......

If only I could talk to them, and tell them how I feel. I never meant for things to end up this way. She beat me, and tortured me in the most unimaginable ways but I loved her. I can't see anything. There's no heaven, stars, or big white angels to come take me away. Just the darkness of my eyes and the bottom of the ground is all I see. Wait, something is happening. My body feels heavy. My muscles are tightening and my skin is shrinking. Oh no! What is this! I notice her.

The one who did this to me. I can see my limp body lying in the coffin. I can hear them talking about saying how it was for my own good and I got what I deserved. I feel cold. Then She came to me. How was she able to feel and touch me as I was and others were not. She said that she felt lost without me. "Without you, No one will ever really know who I am." "Some people don't believe in you but everyone needs someone like you." "Most people can't see you although they know you're there."

"Most people take you for granted because they feel they can get along just fine without you."I want my soul back."







Do you believe in souls?

What do you think happens to our bodies when we die?

Do you believe in reincarnation?

"Are we there yet? How many licks until we reach the center of Heaven, mommy?"

How dare you condemn my brother for the path he has chosen? Who are you to say what he's doing is right or wrong? Matter of fact I think we'll all turn out better than you!
At least my brother is devoted to his family. Don't I deserve a little more credit for not conceiving at a young age? At least our baby boy comes from a stable and loving home. I feel sorry for you.

You say I'm not resourceful, but obviously I'm doing something right, I have a job, and a damn good one too.Why do you even want me to live with you? (Subconscious mind: He needs you; he doesn't have anyone else). "I love you and I want us to be together forever." You need to be honest with yourself. (Subconscious mind: He can't face the truth).

Until then, I should be on my own. I need stability. "Ask anyone, I'm the most stable person you'll ever meet." You're always putting other people down. I believe the way you treat others is a reflection of what you feel inside. You say you're joking but every joke has a ring of truth. "Baby, I don't mean to hurt you, I'm only kidding."

If you really feel that damn peaceful then why is there a cloud of negativity looming over your head? (Subconscious mind: Deep down inside he knows that he's a failure but he refuses to present himself as a vulnerable creature). My mother may not be as worldy as you, but she has worked damn hard to build a foundation for her family. She hasn't traveled to exotic places and could barely read 15 years ago but she's always gonna be there no matter what. Dad, I honestly don't know if I can say that about you.

I know that you love me and at times you care, but seriously,what are your motives? (Subconscious mind: You're the only person that understands him).What are you feelings deep down inside? "I don't have a relationship with any of my kids." "I don't have anyone; it doesn't matter whether I live or die." You're constantly trying to prove something to yourself and others.You criticize their pain yet it parallels the anguish you caused from not being in my life.

Do you have a healthy relationship with your father? If so, is there a special bond that exists between the two of you?

Do you believe unhealthy relationships with fathers affect your percerption of life?

The way we are

I never realized how much I hated him until someone said his name. I don't even love him so why does it hurt so much. Well at least I'm not in love with him.

He beat all the sadness out of me. Everything I worked hard to become was long lost way before we even met. With that being say, I absolutely detest everything he stands for.

I'm sure every woman has struggled in relationships. We fall in love so quickly and then wake up with these unimaginable feelings of emptiness. Deep inside our hearts, we believe he was the one but then there's that tiny little voice inside of us saying "You can do better than him." Most of us ignore this voice in fear of being alone. Some of us don't want to start over and most of us believe we'll never find another as sensitive and understanding as he. Well, I say risk it! Ladies, we must not only learn to internalize our feelings but understand them as well.

Why are we so afraid of being alone? Doesn't the solitary life you lead as a single woman evoke the same kind of sadness you feel from being with a man that doesn't love you? Most of us decide to put up with it anyway, and then we develop this cynical outlook on life. Is it healthy for us?Is this why we're incapable of loving ourselves or is it why so many others fall short of loving us?

The spotless mind

Why do I strive so much to be perfect? I claim to have absolutely no regard for what others think, yet I'm the first to primp and curl my hair in the morning, and the last one standing in the mirror on the way out of class.

There must be some underlying issues with me. (subconscious mind- you don't feel you are worthy of love, so you feel a need to prove yourself to others). But, I'm so strong and confident: I'm capable of handling almost anything on my own. Invincible in the eye of others and intimidating to most, how could somehow like me ever feel like they had something to prove?
(subconscious mind-It is women like you that need the most support because you carry the burden of the being the most formidable opponent.

I was lost then and I'm lost now. At times I feel great, and then all of a sudden, I'm compelled to crawl into a big empty shell. I lie awake at night questioning my self-worth and capabilities. I believed experiencing solitude on all possible levels would shape me into a more self-contained person, but at times my goals seem so insurmountable, I feel like giving up. (subconscious mind-sometimes good feelings evoke emotional discrepancies from your past causing you to feel lost and helpless.

Hopefully one day I'll be able to make sense of everything going on inside of me. I can't bear to imagine going on like this forever. I really want someone to liberate me from this dark and lonely place, but I trust no one but myself. (subconscious-you must open your heart to other's love or you'll never be able to emotionally heal from the past).