God and Wine

Every once in a while I need to remind myself (and others) why I blog. I'm a writer, a facilitator, an artist. I post things about my life and it's not a cry for help or an invitation for prayer from others. I post my truths with the hope that my vulnerability will give way to someone else's breakthrough--that my humanness will let someone else know that they are not alone in this amazingly tumultuous journey called LIFE. Be well folks.

[ Read The Dating Chronicles: V here ] Note: I think it's important to note that the experiences I write/tweet/blog/instagram about are a collection of experiences that have happened to me, and others, over time (so not just yesterday). If I've dated you and you're reading this, feel some type of way if you want. As I always say, "If the shoe fits..." -Thanks, management. ---- So today (yes, June 1, 2015), I was walking down the street in my neighborhood (Harlem) and a man with a long white tee on (we'll deal with his fashion in another blog...I just can't) started walking beside me. Him: Pretty as you is, I'm sure you gotta boyfriend. Me: Uh...Yea (lying, as usual. You know how we do, ladies. I haven't had a "boyfriend" since I ended things with my ex-whatever months ago, but moving on). Him: I know you gotta someone special. Me: Yea. He proceeded to walk beside me, attempting to make small talk about how the police car tha...

I've been trying to write a letter to you since you visited me in my dreams days after to you left this earth. With all of these emotions, I struggle to find the words to express what it's like to lose a giant. I worshiped you, in a way. God gave you to me before I knew I needed you. He knew  and you knew, and it seems that now, more than ever, you cross my mind in infinite ways. Is this what losing a parent feels like? I don't desire to do this again, although inevitable. And I think about the mortality of my two remaining parents, and I beg God to spare me- to just give me a little more time to prepare myself for the kind of indefinite and sporadic pain I'm bound to feel. And these moments of grief cut so sharply, so suddenly... the unexpected tears flow and all I can really do is just let it rain. I rain for you. Even in the sun, I rain. And I'm embarrassed and ashamed, sometimes, to tear up in a bar or while walking down a crowded street or to just sob for you ...

Explicative & candid accounts of the tumultuous dating and relationship experiences of me and my girlfriends. --- [ Read The Dating Chronicles: I-IV here] V.  There are 4 types of people on dating apps and websites that I don't understand:  A) --a person who has huge grammatical and spelling issues in his online dating profile. Like, bruh, this is my first impression of you! Can you at least TRY to not write in all caps? Can you TRY to send your bio through the spellchecker on Microsoft Word before repeatedly posting "your" when you mean "you're." We all make mistakes, but you didn't even TRY to use punctuation! If your bio is one giant run-on sentence, I'm not interested. Looks like you need a tutor, not a girlfriend. Oh, and maybe curb your use of "u" for "you," "4" for "for," and "2" for "too," "two,"or "to," provided you know (not "no")...

Explicative & candid accounts of the tumultuous dating and relationship experiences of me and my girlfriends. --- I. You talk about you're feelings with someone with in-depth vulnerability and they call it "emotional regurgitation." You don't talk about any of your feelings and they call it "emotional unavailability." Well, what do y'all want then? II. One man told me what he wanted...kinda.  I went on a date recently with an educated, self-absorbed, self-proclaimed nigga. Yes, he referred to him as half nerd-half negroid. His behavior was jarring and completely unattractive, and he expected me and everyone around him to accept his loud and obnoxious mediocrity. In the midst of his intelligence lay so much ignorance. Apparently, according to him, most men want a fat ass that doesn't talk back. So, he basically wants a chick that'll hold him down, as long as she doesn't share her true opinions on his emotional and social impot...

I think women hide behind hair. We have been taught that our hair is our crown. I think that's part of the reason why I began cutting my hair when I was 12, and why I recently went bald. I never quite believed that my hair was my crown. I never believed that my hair length or style determined my femininity (or the lack thereof). I never believed that wearing jewelry made me more of a woman. I never believed that makeup and overdrawn eyebrows determined my beauty. Since cutting my hair off, some people have made it their job to remind me to wear earrings so that I "look more like a 'lady'" or to make sure my makeup is on point at ALL times, as if those things define me, my beauty, and/or my womanhood. I never cared much for the opinions of others and I can be a bit crass and nonchalant when it comes to displaying my lack of affection for another's opinion of me. Because I'm a performer, I've been living for other people (onstage) my entire life. I...

1. I've learned to assume the worst about people. That way, you set yourself up for the disappointment and you assume that the pain will hurt less. You are wrong. In fact, what actually hurts is the fact that you've lost the ability to love --love like a carefree child, with innocence and vulnerability. That's what makes you human. You've, therefore, lost your humanism. 2. I knew love, once... or at least I think I knew love--a twisted, unrequited love that reminded me of my humanism, of that organ in my chest that refuses to harden, and despite my desire to shrivel up and die, keeps pumping fluids to the part of my brain that forces me to feel things against my will. 3. I finally made it through the tunnel. People say that you'll look back on your dark moments and laugh, but I won't laugh. Every time I cried, the pain was real. There's nothing funny about the pain that I felt when my "boyfriend" moved away when I was 6, or when I got sto...