Today..

Was hard..When I first heard of Michael Jackson's passing I didn't expect it to affect me the way it had. Tears flowed and flowed. All I can see was this man who loved to perform who was gentle and sweet and we just shitted on him and now..he is gone. I grew up with Michael there was never a time in my life he wasn't there. He was my first crush. I remember being so proud of him and thinking how cute he was. This BLACK man ruled. Do you hear me! No one..no one was more famous than he. Artists aspire to be like him but they can't touch it. He is legend. They just don't have artists like him anyone that lived and breathe the art they created. I know he is weeping with us, at all the love being put out in the atmosphere for him. It was like my brother died..but I would have been the ghetto sister cussing muthafuckers out for running my brother's name through the mud. I would have beat bitches in to the concrete. I wouldn't let any body fuck with him. But he wasn't my brother.... I know they say he belonged to all of us and to a point he did but he belonged to his family. He was a breathing human being not a personality or Jacko or all that bullshit. He was Michael Joseph Jackson, a son, brother and father.

Michael was a grown man and he made the choices he made and who am I to judge. That man carried weight. Folks talk about him as if he worked at Kinko's we can't compare his life to ours or judge his choices. We just can't. As I watched the memorial service for him the tears began to flow again. Our Michael is gone. Children have lost their father. I can't even imagine! Those poor poor kids. I hope people leave them alone. Please leave them alone. And Katherine! That was her child! No mother ever ever thinks about burying their child. I am depressed about the whole situation and confused to weep for a man I never knew is confusing. Why do I hurt like I do. Why do I want to hug his family and tell them how sorry I am. Who am I? Maybe its because we grew up with them. I don't know but lord I have cried a river today.

Everyone at the memorial to me touched on all sides of Michael the performer, the friend, the brother, the father. None of us are one thing are we? I was wanted to cuss when I saw Al Sharpton and was ready to get army marching to tell him to shut up but when he spoke to the kids I was like YES YES. "Nothing is strange about your daddy, what he had to deal with was strange" That was the truth. He saved himself because I was ready to ring the alarm with all that shouting he was doing. Brooke's shaking hands... But for me who truly captured the memorial was Stevie Wonder. Oh my God his song choices!!! The Lyrics to They Won't Go When I Go was so poignant. I am crying now just thinking of it. Stevie you are a genius and a blessing.. Fuck the haters Michael..they can't touch you...

Paris baby girl..thank you for being strong and speaking for your Daddy. A father is a girl's first love. She broke my heart because she is having to be strong and experience something that my 34 year old ass can't comprehend. When she called him Daddy it just broke my heart. Daddy means something to a girl I can't explain it. Thank you for being a brave girl and letting us know how much you loved him. We appreciate, respect and cherish that the first words we heard you speak was for the love of your father. I know this blog sounds like a babbling hot mess but I had to write it. Typo's, fucked up grammar and all. It's from the heart. Thank you Michael I pray and hope your soul is at peace in God's glory. I love you..I love you..

Old Time Sake

From reading my journal from middle school, I find I was bitchy, self-involved, funny, way to obsessed with Prince and incoherent. My handwriting was so hard to read all tight and loopy. This thing needs to burn. Good lord. Reading some of the entries make me want to vomit. LOL The infantile me is loud and clear. I roll my eyes at this little girl yet I am still interested in what she has to say. I am her and she is me. Maybe this is why when I start to have kids the thought of having a girl scares me.

Here are some of the entries that made me laugh:

1-24
"Today in computer this boy who I think is cute named ***** talked to me, which I thought was nice. He asked me could he sit in my seat. I said NO and he keep trying to put a sweet face on me."


2-14
"I wish I had a boyfriend. A CUTE ONE!!!! PS I saw a fight"


2-23
" But YOU SHOULD have seen ***** if you did your eyes would have fell out he had on a black turtle neck with some Guess on. He looked good Oh I wish I could go with him."

4-6
" I can't stand ****** she keep talking shit she is going to make me go off on her ass"

4-15
"Prince is so fine I would love to marry him and do almost everything to please him" (I think I threw up in my mouth as I typed that)

4-27
" I got my letter back from Prince that I sent it said return to sender."

5-3
"***** told me that J.D said I started my period in C.C.D. I wasn't mad but if one more person ask me that I'm gonna go off on J.D cause he don't know what the fuck he is talking about."

5-16
" I made my confirmation it was O.K. The Bishop said my saint name was his mama's name"

6-1
" I could have kissed ******"

6-2
"My mama is getting on my fucking nerves shit. She is busting in here when I am changing without knocking and I told her she need to knock. Then she go say well change in the bath. I said it's my room I should be able to change if I want in my own room. She just gets on my nerves."

6-2
"Mama could have went out but as usual she fucked up my night."

6-19
"I got to watch 9 1/2 weeks ohh that movie is good."

Oh dear that is about all I can stomach of myself. I was a straight up fast, think she smart bitch. LOL

A Journal Entry From My Youth

Today I was looking through my diary from middle school and some of the passages I read made me want to gag. LOL. I may post some of them later, but this particular passage made tears well up in my eyes because I remember that day. The shaky handwriting that I used expressed a sad day that at the time I didn’t have the words to express what I was feeling, the ink was a cheerful teal blue.

OCTOBER 6

“I hate that damn Edward. Could take a gun and shoot him. No one is the world can have so much hate inside for someone. I mean I hate staying here. He’s out there cutting down a tree that I really like. I hate him. I hate him I wish a tree limb would”

That was all that I wrote but I remember that day. It was the first and last day a man ever laid his hands on me. I remember talking to my grandmother about how he was cutting the limbs off of a tree in our front yard. I was angry about it. I felt it was not his house to make such a decision. My mom was at work and Edward was her boyfriend who lived with us. He decided to cut off the limbs on a perfectly good tree at a house we were renting. It looked horrible. I remember thinking he was such a sorry ass man and how could my mother waste her time on him. Anyway he heard me talking shit about him cutting down the tree with my grandmother on the phone and we got in an argument. And it ended with him grabbing me by my neck and throwing me in my room. I remember thinking at the time that it must have looked like that scene in Purple Rain when his daddy slapped him into the next room. Remember that. It was comical yet disturbing at the same time.

Anyway, I remembered the fear I felt. I knew I couldn’t win. Even if my anger towards him was equal towards him as his was towards me. I would lose. I know we were yelling at each other what I said I don’t remember. I remember later looking in the mirror and the cross necklace I had around my neck had left scratches on my neck from the tussle. I could have had his ass. I had power, I knew what I could do if I just opened my mouth. I knew if I told my mom what he did she would leave him but I never told her what happened. Even to this day she doesn’t know for sure what happened that day. I didn’t want to worry her. I loved my mother I hated to see her hurt or break her heart. This I felt would break her heart. My mother was stressed our household was full of fighting and unhappiness. Our life was not good with Edward. But perhaps I didn’t tell her for fear she wouldn’t leave him and then I would have to hate her and resent her more than I already did for staying with this man. When she came home she knew something had happened and she asked me how I got the scratches on my neck. I said nothing.

My mother’s relationship with this man finally did end of course it took longer than I would have liked. I never understood and still don’t understand the hold he had on my mother. My mother was and still is a beautiful, intelligent and strong woman. I adore her. I recognize the sacrifices she made. Its not easy raising a child alone. I recognize now the complexities of relationships. I harbor no ill will. Outside people may have their opinions about the choices she made or my choice to not speak, but that really doesn’t matter. I am more than just this occurrence. She is more than that particular relationship she was in. And I am OK. My mother is OK. My mother raised me to be a thoughtful, independent and self-reliant woman. I learned how I wanted to be loved, what I expected from a man. I learned to never be weak. I grew from this incident. And sadly in life you sometimes have to learn the hard way, life isn't fair. It would be great if we were all infallible right? When I come back I will do the best of the "ohh the boy I like felt on my booty entries." lol