wasn't gonna post an entry today, but i just had to...

you think the self-hate ain't pervasive?
you think de-segregation was the answer to all of black folk problems?
think we should have asked for access to someone elses instead of demanding the government fix what was in our own damn neighborhoods so that it was ALL equal?
you think movies with 'white saviors' make a black kid think to him or herself "i AM worthy!"
you think all that talk about 'black folk don't do' and 'black folk always doing some bad shit' don't affect the little spirits around you? think your constant complaints about black folk and not ONE positive thing to say about your folk is helping shit?

think again playa.

"a girl like me" documentary -


so in the end, what have we accomplish if despite our freedom to drink from the white folk fountain, many of us still doubt our worthiness to do so? this shit here made me CRY, and then it made me more determined than ever to continue assisting kids in empowering themselves so that they're strong enough to make their own fucking way and define themselves. i hope this shit pisses you off enough to do something (if you ain't already).

man...

these last few weeks have been HECTIC. i haven't even been able to get a coherent thought together, let alone blog on this thing. blessings and beautiful days have a way of taking one away from a computer monitor, you know?

it's been busy, but in a good way. in the process of moving to the spot i prayed for getting. VERY happy about it. the only thing is that i've got a shitload of stuff so i've had to pack and clean and clean and pack and stop smiling long enough to think clearly. just wanted to drop a line to let you know things are definitely good in the hood. all my folk are doing aiight, especially granny. no longer on the chemo and radiation and is back to talking shit. 'swad is doing his thing, mom and dad are doing their thing, the professional life was just dealt a promotion and the personal life is quite yummy right about now :)

anyway, i'll be back to the spot to blog in a few weeks if not sooner. wanna be in the new spot by next week, which means feverishly packing shit. promotion means new work on top of old work which leaves me little time to blog from there right now.

i hope all is well with you and yours. one of these days i'll be able to sit back and read a blog or two. please know that just cuz i haven't been around your spot doesn't mean i've stopped thinking about you and loving what you write. you know how life do...it inserts itself when you try to neglect it and that's what has gone down in mine. my life is requiring my attention and care and damnit, i'm gonna oblige.

in the meanwhile, stay tight and keep your inner light shining.

i'll be around.

thankful thursday

i'll be finishing both the stories soon. mind is occupied with other things at the moment. i ask that you bear with me as i make my way through the chaos.

i am thankful for/to:

god, who continues to bless me with breath

the blaquescribers who continue to keep me focused on the task of writing

a gray day so i can revel in rain

the knowledge the sun will shine through again

a heart willing to forgive if not forget

the will to love, even when the person makes it difficult to do so

a mind open to knowledge and the sometimes harsh truths that mark its existence

my mother, who continues to love and support me even though her daughter can sometimes be selfish and shortsighted

the desire to foster change in a world full of people content to profit off of the mistakes of the past

the words that continue to flow, albeit at a trickle

my readers who still stop by even if i haven't written anything worth a shit in weeks

the happiness that hasn't eluded me nearly as much as it has in the past

the minutes needed to think on who i am and what i want to be

the hours spent with myself needed to really get to know me

the discipline to find a new place to put my things

the knowledge that no matter where i move, i exist within my skin and THERE is where my life begins and ends

tony dungy and lovie smith for blazing new trails for black head coaches in the nfl. may both of you find success in your endeavors this weekend.

for your hugs that soothe me, for your kisses that move me, for your smile that behooves me to continue to keep you close

another day in which to make my dreams come true

another day that brings me in both body and spirit closer to you

thankful thursday

man, i really need this right chea...rough week, but at least i'm still here, right?

i am thankful for/to:

the creator for doing what you do cuz that's why i'm here able to do what i do.

'swad for more enlightening discussion. hopefully this time it'll stick.(man, that sounds like a broken record, huh?)

sunlight in my office window. makes it that much easier for me to be happy when it's not raining.

a new day in a new year with no mistakes in it (yet)

for the island of japan cuz de ex is there right now experiencing it and it inspires me to want to explore, too.

for the patience and diligence necessary to find a new spot to reside. they're building new condos on the spot where i currently live so i gotta bounce. part of me is really excited about it, part of me is like "but I DON'T WANNA MOVE!"

for herb, who always makes me laugh even when i don't wanna.

for wiki, cuz man...it's crack and i'm ADDICTED.

for kim, who is kicking the blaquescribe folk into gear. we gotta do the damn thing for real.

for being here to breath, to love, to be.

wassup hollywood.

we were like roaches racing from the big shoe about to come down upon us. we'd survived so much, but at what cost? being enslaved for centuries and then being 'set free' to engage in the dance of faux equal opportunity in the same land of the folk who oppressed us. it's like telling nazi germany to set the jews free, then let them compete with them for jobs and the pursuit of happiness. i can imagine how difficult it must have been for a nazi to adjust his/her mindset to accept the fact that the same 'animal' they were willing to kill in a gas chamber is not only a human being but also deserving of the same things as he/she. poor little nazi.

and for that matter, poor american white folk who have had to deal with all that civil rights shit. i'm sure it must be difficult for you having to level the playing field when so many of your ancestors had seen black folk as inferior and sub-human. how it must rankle one to have to deal with that shit. truly, i sympathize. i mean, until then you experienced the superiority and entitlement that came with government-backed laws promoting socioeconomic inequality.

you could force a black person to sit at the back of the bus, force us to enter a building from the back entrance, and sit in a hot and dusty upper balcony to watch the same movies you watched. you could bumrush our neighborhood and burn the mothafuckas down. you could intimidate us into not competing with you for jobs. you could pay us lower wages and treat us unfairly because really, despite our protest (and believe me, we protested about shit WAY BEFORE THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT) we didn't have the power necessary to do shit about it. you could send us your cast off books and watch as the socioeconomic inequality afforded through the lack of genuine equal opportunity prevented black communities from housing schools equal in resources with their white counterparts because the term 'equal' can be defined many ways in many shades and therefore 'separate but equal' really meant 'separate but whatever the fuck we tell you equal means', thereby forcing us to challenge that definition. you could create sharecropper laws that made it impossible for a black person to gain fair access to the acquirement of land and create laws making it damn near impossible for a black person to vote, thus forcing us to take matters into our own hands and basically demand our human rights.

in other words, if not for us forcing you, we wouldn't have shit.

so why bombard us with movies telling us we couldn't have done it without your generosity? why try to play like black folk need saving from themselves and it takes the white savior to do it? why do i have to see yet ANOTHER fucking story about how some self-sacrificing white woman who, after abandoning a lucrative job and a promising life afforded her, decided to go slumming in the hood and instead empower some poor little underserved kids for chump change? why the fuck do i have to see yet ANOTHER fucking story (based on a true story of course) about some white guy who abandoned the lifestyle damn near guaranteed him because of his ethnic make up for the chance to save some poor little black kids from becoming statistics? why is it the only time i see a black teacher in those movies is when i see the white teacher 'educating' the black teacher and/or administrative professional about what they're doing wrong, 'motivating' them to fight for their kids, to find the answer even if that shit ain't an easy one. why do i have to see yet ANOTHER white person singled out for what any human who gives a shit about other humans would do and has done WAY before now?

why do i have to see yet ANOTHER FUCKING MOVIE about how white folk YET AGAIN roll up in the hood and show black folk how to save themselves?

how come the ONLY time i see a movie about a black person empowering the black community that black person is an icon in the community like martin luther king or malcolm x? (wait...there was that hiccup with 'lean on me' wayyyy back in the 90s).

look, black teachers and administrative professionals have been fighting the system, empowering their kids, and finding the difficult solutions for the sake of their students WAY before desgregation. how the fuck do you think they were able to turn out capable citizens with books missing pages, books outdated by decades, while being taught in schools less equipt to educate than dog training schools? i ain't just offended by the implication suggested by these movies, i'm outright PISSED THE FUCK OFF.

where are the movies about the many black teachers who have made the same sacrifices, the same monumental changes in the lives of their students? how could ANYBODY possibly find empowerment within themselves when the messages thrown over and over in the media is "wait for the white folk to save us"? how the fuck do you propose regular everyday black folk find pride and value in themselves and who they are when you don't even think their stories are 'worthy' enough to depict on screen? it's like you want poor and/or non-white folk to save ourselves but in the meanwhile, you shove a thousand movies into our minds about how it was yet another white person who swooped down from his or her perch in the heavens, sacrificed all he or she held dear, all for the purpose of saving poor and/or non-white folk.

you can't have it both ways. you can't keep patting yourselves on the fucking back lauding your contributions to the 'saving' of poor black folk with these fucking movies while at the same time telling poor black folk to save themselves with the laws. you can't dismiss black folk contributions to the empowering of themselves and then expect them to somehow pull that fucking message out of thin air and handle that shit. if there were more stories depicted on screen, more movies about how black teachers handled their biz, i'd have no problem with checking out 'freedom writers' or 'knights of the south bronx' or 'the ron clark story'. until then, i ain't doing it. you can call me racist, you can call me intolerant. i don't care. i mentor kids just like the ones depicted in those movies, so i don't need a movie to expose me to their challenges.

cuz the bottom line is that those movies ain't for me to see anyway. they're for all the folk out there suffering from guilt, for the folk who want something to make them feel better in the face of the socioeconomic inequality that many of them haven't had to experience first hand. those movies are for the folk who need that answer for the question of "what have white folk done for black and/or underserved folk" or to validate the ideals of a conservative government "cuz see, folk DO care and the citizens will take care of themselves. they don't need the government telling them to care!"

kinda like you didn't need the government to tell you to start seeing folk as equal. mind you, no government can mandate the heart of its citizens. if a person wanna see me and my folk as animals, ain't shit the government can do about it. if that was the case, we wouldn't still have brothas getting dragged behind pick-up trucks or black folk being denied jobs cuz the name on their resumes tips the person reading it off to their ethnic background.

HOWEVER, the government can damn sure make sure that ALL kids have access to TRULY EQUAL education and are afforded the SAME opportunities to choose what they want to do and be.

so you can keep your movies. it's obvious that yet again black folk are gonna have to write about our triumphs and create movies depicting our self-empowerment because hollywood ain't gonna do it.

don't worry though. we've got plenty of experience in fighting EFFECTIVELY for our own shit WITHOUT the white savior.

monday musings

is it better to have won and loss than never to have won at all? that's the question i ask myself in the wake of romo's bumble on saturday night. for real...maybe it would have been better if he'd just sucked from jump. then the 'boys wouldn't have made the playoffs and i wouldn't have had to suffer watching that shit at the end of that game.


congrats to sarcastic variable (or whatever the hell he's calling himself these days) for winning the blogger den's fantasy league championship. my boy dp ended up in second place despite being in first place for most of the season. that was a bitter end my friend. believe me when i tell you i understand COMPLETELY. i ended up in 'who give's a damn cuz i didn't make the playoffs' place.



congrats to organized noise who once AGAIN has taken the championship in a pick 'em league i've sponsored. i don't know what that man is doing but evidently he's got the 'sight'. he always seems to predict the right team will win. missy put up a good battle though. i was fourth.







and in what had to be my most bitter defeat to date, i went from first place all season to fourth place in the final standings, ending the season by losing two straight. if that wasn't bad enough, my first playoff lost was to that 'dethrone nikki' bastid. eating crow is NOT something i want to repeat. thank goodness he ended up losing to his brother, which made everything alright for me cuz at least HE didn't win the championship. and no, i ain't a good sport about that shit.

back at work and already hating it. man, i gotta get me a new gig pronto.

watched aqua teen hunger force last night and almost crapped my panties. all i gotta say is 'spaceship made out of dicks...' GENIUS i tell you...GENIUS.

how come guys assume a sista is indiscriminant about her dicks just cuz she's candid about her sex life?

how come dicks never look nearly as good in the photo as they do in person?

how the hell would i even know the difference? it's not like i've actually dated a guy after he sent me a photo of his phallus, although i wonder if maybe that isn't a good idea...

"dear dude,

i know you're damn near perfect in every way with your six-digit yearly salary and your 7-series mercedes and your penthouse in buckhead and your flawless looks, but i've found that in the past guys with toys as big as yours have them to compensate for their lack of penile girth. in order to avoid future disappointment, i am sending you this email to request a photo of your penis. please do not attempt to alter the image as that's a clear sign you are unendowed and steps will be taken to ensure i never see you or communicate with you again. once you have submitted your photo i will take it under review and get back to you. if you haven't heard from me after a week assume i have found your phallic length inadequate for my needs.

yours,

nikki

p.s. - extra points for you if your penis is curved upward or has a large head."

the folk here where i work are making it seem as though this university is on the cutting edge of progressiveness. funny thing considering many black folk working here have tried to bring a class-action lawsuit against the school but have been unable to do so because no lawyer is willing to take on a school with federal government ties. meanwhile, we haven't had a black man working in my division since the 90s and i'm only one of two black folk working in the entire lab. if that's progressive behavior then maybe i should shout hallelujah cuz i haven't been lynched.

how come there's always at least one grammatical error or spelling error in spam mail? is this the job that illiterate and ignant folk have been designated to do? wait a minute...there IS the presidency...

and why am i getting so many emails from nigerians requesting money from me? what have i done to deserve this? i know i'm black and i'm proud, but SHIT. i'm starting to get extra pissed about this boosheet. if i were nigerian i would be even more upset that somebody representing my folk would be out here begging other folk for funds on the fake. not a good look.

congrats to my girl scarlettrae who got engaged over the holidays. you go girl! don't forget to send me my invite!

congrats to my oldest and dearest friend tamica who got engaged over the holidays as well. i went to a bridal show with her yesterday. YUCK. ever been around a bunch of guys competing for dominance with proof of their superior penis length? it was the same here, only the penises were on the womens fingers. i saw the conversion chart on the wall:

5 carats or larger = dick size of at least 12 inches in length, four inches in diameter, and will guarantee a woman has an orgasm within ten strokes. also pro at eating pussy.

4 carats = ds is 10-11 inches in length, 3.5 inches in diameter, and will guarantee orgasm within fifteen strokes. adept at eating pussy although skills could use improving.

3 carats = 8-9 inches long, 3 inches around, and orgasm within 20 strokes. proficent at eating pussy but will only do it if asked.

2 carats = 6-7 inches long, 2.5 inches around, and orgasm within 25-30 strokes. needs improvement in eating pussy...likes to use teeth on overly sensitive areas.

1 carat = 4-5 inches long, 2 inches around, and orgasm within 45-60 strokes, usually requiring finger assistance. has to have his head guided to where the pussy is or he'll end up licking your knee.

anything under a carat = dick size requiring use of nanotechnology in order to locate it and orgasm will occur only with the assistance of a dildo or body substitution. absolutely refuses to eat pussy because he thinks it's icky...compares it to eating slimy okra.

and don't get me started on those vendors. they were like vultures. we couldn't walk two feet without being accosted in the lane by some pamplet-toting, heavily perfumed chick caked in make-up while touting her skills as a wedding coordinator or some tuxedo-wearing white guy assaulting us with flashing disco lights and business cards until we were too disoriented to avoid his boring ass sales pitch lauding his skills as a dj.

me to one of the djs in question: "what kind of music do you play?"

the dj in question: "my collection is extensive. i can play any kind of music you want. i've got alot of rap, including them franchise boys and lil jon."

me: "are you assuming cuz i'm black that i'd want to hear those franchise guys at my wedding?"

the dj in question, after realizing that thing he was choking on was his foot: "oh nooo, not at all. why don't you tell me what kind of music you like? i'm sure i've got it."

me: "how about frank sinatra? i prefer the capitol years."

the dj in question, a moment after quickly swipping that surprised look off of his face: "definitely! i have plenty of frank sinatra classics'"

me: "whatever, dude..."

what a fucking idiot.

some undercover black chick met mica and i in the line to get water...

undercover black chick: "man, it's so crowded in here!"

me, trying to be friendly: "i know! i can't believe they didn't make more space for the vendors considering the crowd."

undercover black chick: "this is my first bridal show. it's something huh?"

mica and i nod in agreement.

undercover black chick, after checking the label on mica's chest designating her as a bride-to-be: "so when's your big day?"

mica: "sometime in september."

undercover black chick, finally revealing her true colors: "have you planned your honeymoon yet? i'm a travel agent. i can help you with that."

i rolled my eyes and mica and i exchanged looks.

mica: "no, i haven't."

sneaky ass travel agent black chick: "you know there's going to be another bridal show in march. it won't be as large as this one, but i've heard it's pretty good."

me: "really?"

sneaky ass trying to establish a false sense of sisterhood just cuz she a black chick: "yes, it's for us by us."

me: "us as in black people?"

presumptuous sneaky ass black chick thinking she done read me just cuz i'm black with locs and wearing a crochet cap: "yes. it's black-owned. run by this sista who's been doing them for years."

cynical me getting impatient with her ass: "are YOU that sister?"

mildly offended sneaky ass black chick after checking me and realizing i think she's an idiot: "no. i'm sorry if i gave you that impression. she's a collegue of mine."

sarcastic me ready to end this ridiculous exchange: "oh, well thanks for the heads up. we'll look for it online."

desperate sneaky ass black chick willing to crush her va jay jay into our faces like we're carpet munchers: "if you give me your contact information, i can send you the specifics about the upcoming show."

i look at mica and try to communicate with my eyes. they are telling her "please tell this chick to go fuck herself so we can move the hell on..."

mica: "why don't you just give us the name of the show and we'll look it up."

resigned sneaky ass realizing she ain't getting shit from us black chick: "it's [whatever the fuck the name of it was]. i hope to see you there. you know we've got to support our own. bye, my black sistas."

when she walked away i sighed heavily and turn to mica.

"and THIS is why i hate bridal shows..."


have a great monday everybody!

why u wanna go and do that? pt. 1

i couldn't believe it.

this mothafucka was lying to me all up in my grill, just like a scene out of one of those hood flicks where the brotha is standing there telling his girl "it ain't what it looks like" while his dick is standing at attention and glistening in the wind and some chick behind him is frantically pulling up her cum stained g-string panties with that 'this heffa look like she gonna beat the shit outta me' look on her face. it was positively surreal.

"i'm telling you, you dreamt that," he continued, his face straighter than baby girl's bang after a hit with the hot comb. meanwhile, my own expression was a nappy do of tightly coiled features, from the angrily braided brow right down to the cynically doubled-twisted lips sticking out from 'tween twin cheeks afro puffed with indignation. he was standing there in his boxers, his arms crossing his broad chest, the chest i had just a few hours earlier kissed over every inch with my lips. he looked damn sexy...and guilty as fuck.

"for real dude...i don't EVER dream about shit like that..." i replied, incredulous that he was continuing with this farce. if i had known the brotha was willing to boldface lie like this i wouldn't have fucked him in the first place. wait, i'm lying. i would have fucked him, but i wouldn't have stuck around long enough for him to have an opportunity to boldface lie to me.

it was three in the morning, way to late/early for us to even be having that discussion. certainly it should have been too early for him to straight up lie like that. i mean, the most effective lying takes place between the hours of of 7:30 a.m. and 1 a.m. when people fabricate plausible excuses for not going to work or come up with that effective bullshit line to make the booty call go down without incident. instead he was in that black hole of time when negros say ridiculous shit like "we don't need no condom" or "that's just my momma calling me". you know, when lies that have little chance of convincing a person with half a brain are uttered nonetheless.

i sighed deeply and waited for him to answer me, my mind drifting back to when i'd first met him a month before...
_________________

it was a friday night in july. a warm breeze made its way across my body like a lover's tongue, licking my skin and plastering my clothes to my body. candice and i had been to a club damn near every weekend since june, but we had yet to visit this spot. i stared at the building, noting the disheveled bricks making up the old building we were walking towards. it didn't look like much, but i was excited cuz i'd heard it was the most popular friday night spot in atlanta for us black folk. i could already hear the music from the live band kissing the air around us as we stepped in line and waited for entrance.

"what's the name of this place again?" i'd asked candice.

"'rollers'," she'd responded casually, as she glanced around her at the other people headed in the same direction.

pulling out my i.d., i looked up and into the face of one of the security guys at the door. i stopped mid-motion, caught up in the brown depths of his eyes. well looky here...

i placed my stare at his feet and climbed the mountain of his form with my eyes, finding a foothold on his thick thighs before leaping over the bulge between his legs, landing at the flat terrain of his stomach. i walked the rest of the way up, stopping to appreciate the scenery his broad shoulders provided before crawling up a thick neck. i took a leasurely stroll through the field of his soft lips, admiring the curve of his nose before finally ending at the oasis of his eyes.

now i could have said some really corny shit like "make sure you frisk me real thorough-like" but then i'd have had to supply the cheesy porn music. i can almost hear it...the gutter-grown guitar puffing out smoky notes to hover like rings in the air while the sleazy saxaphone skeets sound onto my eardrums. *shudders*

but i digre...uh, sorry chele...i mean, i've been led astray from the initial topic of discussion.

anywho, so dude was fine and gainfully employed, ergo he had potential. i handed him my i.d., my eyes still climbing his rugged terrain with a slow thoroughness. he frowned as he stared at it.

"just call me nikki," i replied before he could open his mouth and mangle my name. looking up, he smiled at the purposeful purr of my voice. his wireframe glasses sat on his cheeks, an attractive addition to an already damn near flawless facade.

"i'm 'fingaz'" * name has been changed to protect the guilty.

i leaned over slightly and sniffed him covertly. lavender and clove with a hint of cedar...cool...no baby powder, which means he doesn't have his balls coated in that shit.

"no baby powder," i murmured as i inhaled deeply.

"what?" he asked confused.

"uh, nothing," i said quickly, my face a mask of innocence.

candice, who had walked into the spot before me, stepped back through the doors and looked at me with that 'i can't take yo ass nowhere' look on her face.

"you ready?" she asked impatiently, her voice almost drowned out by the live music blasting through the opening. fingaz was definitely appealing but there were too many fine brothas up in the cut for me to be latching onto the first one at the door.

"yeah," i said as i turned to fingaz and held out my hand for my i.d.

"i'm gonna hold onto this," he said, his voice all dark and smoky like a jazz tavern with deliberately low lighting. it brought to mind miles davis sitting on a stool on a stage bathed in blue light, his lips seducing the notes to 'round about midnight' from the mouth of his trumpet while the burning butt of an unfiltered cigarette dangles precariously from the edges of a plastic ashtray placed next to his right knee. (sometimes my imagination gets too specific with shit...oh well). he tucked my i.d. in his shirt pocket and smiled devilishly. i lifted a brow at that.

"what for?"

"so you can't leave without talking to me."

a slow smile spread across my face as i took on the meaning of what he was saying.

"alright then..." i finally said nonchalant-like, although i'm sure my cheesy grin let him know what the deal was. so candice and i stepped into the pool hall and headed toward the stairs to get away from the crushing crowd. i tugged at the mini-skirt i was wearing, conscious of the open face of the steps which would give anyone standing beneath them a clear view to the granny panties i was wearing that night (hey, YOU might not mind the feeling of satin floss cutting into the crack between your sweaty buttcheeks but i ain't the one for that shit. i've got a big ass with a big crack. it was hot and the panties were cotton. 'nuff said.)

anyway, so candice and i are now upstairs chillin and checking out the brothas. meanwhile, my mind was on the cat holding my i.d. in his front pocket. i started cataloguing his features in my mind...about 6'2 give or take an inch, 220 to 230 lbs all in the right places, broad shoulders, nice tight ass, sculpted legs slightly bowed, full lips brushed with a mustache, high cheekbones, seductive brown eyes and a smoothly bald head, and skin dark and rich like a chocolate truffle. sheeyit!

"er, i'm going back outside," i said as i turned to candice. she smirked, a knowing look in her eyes, but said nothing. i sauntered down the stairs and through the front door, pulling out my cell phone as i did so. i used the patented 'call someone and play like you didn't really walk out there just to talk to that cat' move. i strut about ten yards away from fingaz (ever mindful of the fact his gaze was no doubt focused on my ass) and flipped my phone open, scanning the list to see who i could call.

the person i would usually call when using this particular maneuver was in the pool hall, so i had to go to tried and true number two - my brother. i quick dialed him as i turned and made a covert glance in fingaz's direction. he was staring at me. i dropped my gaze to the sidewalk and pressed the phone to my ear. of course swad would pick this night not to answer his damn phone. i hung up before it went to voicemail and started scrolling down the list of folk in my phone book. by this time fingaz had walked over and was standing next to me. i saw his dark shadow break up the concrete grey of the sidewalk and lifted my head to look at him. the devilish grin had returned.

"you know you came out here to talk to me so you can end that call now."

oh...it's like that?

i shook my head, rolling my eyes as i flipped my phone close...
____________________

pt 2. next week.

waiter...

i've always been a good waiter

last year...

i waited on happiness
i waited on contentment
i waited on empowerment
i waited on the helplessness to leave me
i waited on the weight to drop
i waited on the patience to come
i waited for things to make sense
i waited for someone else to tell me what i wanted
i waited for someone else to tell me my worth
i waited for someone else to define me
i waited for someone else to fulfill my needs
i waited for the people around me to change before i did
i waited for loved ones to realized i loved them
i waited for the time to reveal itself
i waited for the dreams to fulfill themselves
i waited for him to be perfect for me
i waited for the moment when i knew he was the one
i waited for the other shoe to drop
i waited for the pain to stop
i waited to do
i waited to see
i waited to be

this year...

i will wait not one more fucking moment to do and see and be

2007 will be the year i happily do ME.