Friday, April 29, 2016

Little Pieces

   I fight with my soulmate because we don't believe in soulmates

Two cosmic forces always pushing apart but not being able to stop talking to each other 

When we do get months of silence , Venus and Mars pull us back together

 Inseparable

Coincidences start becoming creepy

One day I asked him if he was stalking me

We drift apart like Pangaea

Little pieces

Continents

Countries

I can be harsh and mean

Thinking I parted Brazil and Italy

Although I am at a high sea level

Which means I can't be full of too many things

In my adolescent imagination I am a witch

I go to heaven although I'm not religious

Like eating spinach, not because you need to lose weight, but because it's harder to run

23rd Psalm

blah blah blah

"The lord is my shepherd"

blah blah blah

"I will dwell in the house of the lord forever"

HA!

There I restore my soul

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death fear no evil

I am with me

I comfort me

I am not broken little pieces

I am everything I want to be

Or can try to be

Or emulate

Or imitate

Like my room 

I'm not dirty but I'm not clean

And when Pangaea becomes

Countries

States

And cities

I will still be nice and neat     


Thursday, November 12, 2015

Am I The Same Girl?

This is a self evaluation of the current realization that I'm growing up. Enjoy :)

 
Me at 15 and me at 18.
Similarity: I still like the color pink.
Difference: I don't smile as much in photos .
Me at 15 and me at 19. 
Similarity: My mother still takes bad photos of me (referring to the left pic of course).
Difference : I wear makeup ( lots of makeup) .
Me at 17 and me at 19.
Similarity: I love dresses.
Difference: I'll never wear braids again.
Me at 16 and me at 19.
Similarity: I support gay rights.
Difference: I'm was in the closet!
Me at 16 and Me at 19
Similarity: I love a cute necklace.
Difference: I'm a woman who sits up straight. :)
I'm growing up y'all.
 This is so overwhelming but I'm getting used to it a bit. Thank you.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Scissors

Scissors is the blog's first fictional post. It's a story about a 14 year old named Vanessa and her struggle with family. Also most of all hair.  Follow Vanessa and their journey to figuring out who they are.



"He didn't mean it."

 Fourteen years of hard work flushed down the drain. My mother looks at me in shock.

     "Last night Nicky and I were playing with the scissors and he probably got ideas."

Her eyes widened, "You let him play with scissors!"

"Yes I did, but I was right there the entire time."

She puts her hands around my head.

"I think we're lucky it's hair this time and not your fingers."

She sighs, "Tomorrow we're going to Nina's to fix this. Nicky is never seeing scissors again -and lock your door!"

I run up to my room and celebrate.

Confession Time: I've  hated my hair since I was eight years old. When all of my boy friends and I were playing basketball, things got really intense. One of the boys pulled my ponytail and I fell to the ground. It was ok, I was a tough eight year old and I could deal with some illegal moves. Although my mother was there and told me to come in the house. That day she told me I couldn't play ball anymore. From that day on I've wanted nothing to do with my ponytail. It was just a burden to me. My mother adores my hair. She gives  braids and buns that make my head hurt. When she has time she'll take two hours straightening it. She thinks I'm a doll.My teacher ,Mrs.Fey, always has her hands in it. "Vanessa, you're an angel." I often imagine pushing her into a desk and saying, Mrs. Fey, your back is broken!” I hate it, all of it. I've waited for this day for a very long time. I can't wait to visit Nina.

Nina is my mother's really good friend. She went from doing hair in her living room to having her own salon.

   "Girl this is a travesty."

My mother finally found someone to attend her funeral.

"It's fixable and since she's a pretty girl she'll rock it."

Nina snaps at my head with precision and quickness. In only fifteen minutes I have a pixie cut. My bang is the longest part of my whole head. I keep having to push it back from getting in my eyes. I love it though.

"Thank you Nina, she looks beautiful."  My mother is lying to be polite. To her, I look nothing more than neat.

My mother opens the door to the house. From on top of the staircase we hear, "Three sons!" My mother stomps her feet, "Brandon shut up! Brandon and I burst into laughter. "You all think this is funny?”  Brandon,  holding in his laughter, "She looks great. She looks dashing really. Don't you look dashing?  '' I nod my head. "She looks elegant and powerful.”  All women with short hair do. My mother , finally calm, "Go up to your room". Brandon grabs my hands. He whispers in my ear "Come on little bro”

Confession Time: I love myself ten times more with short hair than I even did with it down to my back.  I wish I could kiss myself. I asked Brandon how he thinks I look and he said I could never look ugly, Which isn't an answer. He let me have some of his clothes today. He knows mother would never let me wear them. "You're fourteen, not four. You should do whatever you want.”

It's 7:00 and I'm wearing my brother's shirt and pants.

I comb my hair. I keep looking at myself. I feel like this is how I should look.

My mother lays her hand on her forehead. "Why are you wearing Brandon's clothes?"

I can't answer or even speak for that matter. 

Brandon walks into the kitchen and says,   "You look nice!"

My mother turns around, "Why is she in your clothes?”

"I gave them to her," he says nonchalantly.

She laughs and says, "Go upstairs and change."

"She's wearing a shirt not a jockstrap!"

Brandon never yells. No one ever yells at mother.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Oh come on mom she's too old for that!"

"I don't like it!”

"It's completely casual and no one knows it's mine but us."

"BRANDON I DON'T WANT HER WEARING IT!"

Crying starts from upstairs.

"You're really passionate about some pants. Most girls barely want to cover their thighs!"

My mother pushes in her chair and turns to him . "Your sister looks ridiculous and now you've woken up my son."

Brandon gets me to walk out the door and I whisper to him, "Thank you!"

Confession Time:  Today at school everyone said I looked nice. Riley said I looked like Leonardo DiCaprio from the 90s, which is definitely a compliment. Tiffany said, "No offense but you look better this way." I do Tiffany,none taken. Evan called me the coolest dude. I feel happier with my hair this way than I ever did with it down to my back. I never want to wear my clothes again. I never want my hair long again.

I'm in the hospital now and Nicholas is sick again.

"What's wrong with him Brandon?"

"I don't know anymore."

Nicholas was born 3 months early. He doesn't talk very much and he can't walk well.

Mother comes through the doors with him in her arms.

"Big boy!” I yell. 

I grabbed him from my mother.

He smiles at me, "V!"

Nicky's body is really warm but he's still smiling.

"It's only a fever. I've got a prescription so he'll be ok.”

It's 9:00 at night and I'm getting food. I hear my mother's footsteps so I try to hurry.I grab my sandwich and walk quickly out. She stops me, "Brandon was right today. I shouldn't be so hard on you. I'm sorry.”I don't feel like talking to her right now.

I walk up and in the middle, her voice cracking, "Just don't grow up too fast on me."

Confession Time:Nicky is a good brother and he wouldn't hurt anyone. Sometimes he's curious though.  I mean he's more curious than most three year olds. One time he broke grandma's vase and thought it was hilarious. So now we can't leave anything fragile unattended because he'll break it just for laughs.  He'll imitate us too. One day he ripped up mother's letters. I think he was just trying to help. He just wants to be like us. So it wouldn't be surprising if he cut my hair. It would be believable. That day it was really hot. I had sweat all over my face and I just couldn't take it anymore. I was going to die if I had to do one more day like that. So I cut really big chunks of it. I made it look messy but I wasn't sure if she would believe me. If she didn't I would just tell her. She could finally know something about her daughter for once. She still treats Nicky well though. I'm sure Nicky wouldn't mind that I blamed him anyway. He would be happy he helped. I can't put into words my happiness about my hair or my brother's pants. It's like my whole life I've been Clark Kent and today I was Superman. When I leave her house I'll be able to wear whatever I want and  I won't be her doll anymore.I'll be the cutest boy ever.



Sunday, May 17, 2015

It's 10:00

It was an hour ago I awoke.  In my sleep I fear things. He's warm but not warm enough.  So I lay closer to him . I rest my head on his chest and stare. He's asleep but I can feel his disapproval.  " That's weird , Ebonni." In my head I apologize and look down shame.  I can feel his lungs working on my hands.  Up and down.  Wind is blowing.  The sun isn't bright today. The summer heat still fills the room. He's strong. I rub his stomach.  He has muscles on his tummy.  I play the keys.  This is bliss. The hairs tickle my ear. My heart strings. I smile and move closer.  I squeeze tightly for a second.  Ah. What a dream while I'm awake. What a nightmare yesterday was. I get so afraid sometimes. I sing " Melt With You ". The world has stopped .  I sink in the depth. Nothing matters. He moves. I'm offended by the gesture a bit.  I position myself to fit his. I'm safe again.  I play with curls in his hair.  My hair is in there!  Get out, you don't belong. I see a gray I think.  It could be my imagination.  My excitement to be held by a boy, age 23. I don't kiss you while you're asleep , love. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Enjoy the passion when you're awake.  I can't help myself. I gaze again.  He's beautiful. Lips, full as the moon. I fall harder.  I want the cheeks.  "You're the most beautiful man to ever lay next to me", I think.  I believe the Egyptians would be proud.  Nose of Thutmose.  Defined features of a mahogany man. You smell bad.  I'm sure it's because it's the morning.  I don't mind.  I breathed in . I laugh at myself. I lay my legs on you. You said something about my thighs. I said I hated them and you didn't.  For a moment you rise and pull me close. I can find no wrong with you at rest. I believe you are at your best.  Dream good things , sweet.  I'll wait until you're done. I like someone.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

It was just a high school

It was just a high school.

Some friends and I were going to see a play at a high school. I don’t know what it is with me, I don’t like high schools. Maybe I knew it was going to be a big event. Lots of people to see their kids sing. Lots of kids singing. I hesitated at first, but I left because I did not want to annoy them. They know, I just think they don’t know the intensity of it. My heart was racing and I was scared, you can’t explain it sometimes. Why does your stomach turn? Why does your throat feel tense? Why are you scared to walk into a high school? We got out of the car and I could feel my face holding back tears just looking at the building. As soon as she opened the door and I walked further, I knew it. I left to the stair case by the door and was sobbing. My friends found me and made me laugh. I appreciated them that night. They even apologized. In the end the night was good. I was happy and calm. We even had pizza.

Friday, February 6, 2015

Some Images to get you inspired in Black History Month .

I want to write something this month about Black History eventually.  Although until then here's some inspiring images to get you the feeling of what's going on. Enjoy!  

Kanye being Kanye at the Super Bowl
Halle Berry looking better than you in the 90s.
Drake because this photo gives me so much lifeMichelle Obama
Viola Davis at The Screen Actors Guild Awards
Jessica Williams and major hair goals
Olympic gold medal winner Gabby Douglas and her thighs. 
Coretta Scott King and her husband Martin Luther King Jr
Nichelle Nichols as Nyota Uhora on Star Trek and a lovely quote by Whoppi Goldberg. 

Whitney Houston and her daughter Bobbi Kristina
The First African American Women To Vote in Ettrick after the passage of the 19th Amendment in 1920. Pictured from left to right are, on the first row, Mary Branch, Anna Lindsay, Edna Colson, Edwina Wright, Johnella Frazer (Jackson), and Nannie Nichols; on the back row from left to right; Eva Conner, Evie Carpenter (Spencer), and Odelle Green. 

Friday, January 9, 2015

The Lumps On My Chest

It's sounds like complete bull but I just woke up and had them.  I was in 3rd grade and my chest was hurting.  I went into my mother's room and she was just as surprised as I was . She called all of her friends and told them her daughter was becoming a woman.  When 5th grade came I remember boys liking me more. I remember having to tell them to get their hands off me. That I didn't like to be touched without my permission.  That was happening to me more.   I'm not sure what it was but they were paying attention to me. In 6th grade I can recall boys eyes shifting from my face to my chest.  Like being obvious about it and not even trying to not seem gross. For some reason I wanted them bigger. I remember wishing I had bigger boobs. I didn't connect the attention with my chest I just know what women had and I wanted that.  In 7th grade when I was playing around with my best friends brother in the woods he asked me out no where to see my breast. I ran as fast as I could out of there. I paid attention more after that.  I couldn't find a decent bra to fit me. My friends called me attention seeking for showing cleavage.  Once I got into high school I started to wear sweaters and big clothing and I didn't feel very good about myself.  I would bind my chest with bandages and ask older women about reductions or removals.  I wasn't happy with myself in high school and I hated myself.  I wanted to change so much. The women would say " they made me female" and that "men liked them". The problem wasn't that I hated my body.  I actually thought I was kind of good looking.  People making me uncomfortable made me hate my body. The attention it was getting made me hate my body. last year I made a resolution to focus on myself.  I was told I was beautiful that year the most I've been told.  I wasnt becoming a woman , I was a was a woman.  I felt better about myself as the year went on.  I was dealing with men now who expressed their affection for me appropriately. I had friends,  actual friends who said nice things about me . I still got touch without my permission and people still said inappropriate things.  I stick up for myself now.  I call people out on their stuff.  I liked myself towards the end of the year.   Although I still  did not like my chest   . It's been years of  trying to overcome all of it but I'm still working. It's just lumps on chest. Too big on me but not too much handle.