A day of gratitude

This year is the first year, possibly since I've been a blogger, that I didn't write a Mother's Day post.  I had every intention of doing one.  I woke up, wrote two different drafts.  My friend Mo sent me Read more

Diversification of Bonds

The year is 1981.  My four year-old self had just watched Superman kick Zod's entire ass and it was glorious.  In 1981, Superman was THE superhero movie to see.  It had action, conflict and even romance.  The Christopher Reeve Read more

Ooh, Child...

Yall. I cried for Alfre Woodard dyin. I cried for Delroy Lindo as a single dad. I cried for little black girls who have to grow up too fast. - @MeLaMachinko Crooklyn was a movie that I loved from the first time Read more

Action Mel

Today is one of those days that I don't feel like being the life of the party or having a clever quip.  I don't want to be the unstoppable force of nature that I am 95% of the time. Read more

There comes a time in every man's life

"I think I want to live with my dad." I always knew that the day would come where he would need more than I could give him as a mother and a mentor.  I'm glad it happened before he was Read more

Uncategorized

Saw this and started crying

I’ll admit that I think my period may be coming or something.  But this right here…

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“Keep on Pushin’”

Eventually, I’ll be able to talk, but until then:

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So here’s the thing

I typically like to keep myself reserved.  I enjoy conducting myself with a measure of decorum and professionalism at my place of employment.

However, tomorrow, I’m going to be bright and early at the office, dancing like I got my OJ prize.

You may also occasionally see me say “NIGGA WHAT!!!” to random folks.

Honestly, it can’t be helped.

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Excogitations of a Post Modern Maverick

I had a post all planned out.  It was a little morose, because I had a HELLACIOUS morning.  Life’s clusterfucks should not be allowed to rear their ugly heads prior to 10:45.  So I was roaming around, feeling all blue about this that and the third.  (I had only gotten to positive visualization #2 before the morning went to shit.)  So I sat at this very computer, and composed the most beautifully worded tale of woe typed by human fingers.  Were I able to detach myself from myself, I probably would have given myself some ass after reading it.  Such a tender soul is truly deserving of the utmost affection, right?  And yet, just as I was about to click “Publish”, I paused and said, “Bitch, you are NOT about to post this shit.”  Yes.  I call myself a bitch in my inner monologue.  I decided to wait until after I ate, and if I was still feeling the same after lunch, I would post it.  Thank God for sauteed spinach and grilled chicken.

I’m giving myself 12 months to get it together.  So, in honor of my birthday, one of my presents to myself is…myself.  I’m giving myself my undivided attention.  That includes celibacy, which means, by extension in 2008, I probably won’t be dating.  (Mark, I swear if you make one comment, I’m going to hunt you down and make you eat your underwear.)  For those who have scoffed, I successfully did this a few years back.  I met, and exceeded the allotted time (because, let’s be honest, after you’ve been keeping it to yourself for a year, when that time has elapsed, you don’t exactly fling it off the back of a truck).  I remember dating a charming guy during that time, who graciously said, “I respect what you’re doing, and that’s cool, as long as I’m not the only one you’re not giving it to.”  That lasted for a couple of weeks.  (I’ll give you guys credit.  Sometimes, you start out with some really good intentions.)

Today, I finished reading a book that really had me going, until I got to the end.  I’m sure I will be quoting it in the coming months, but it kind of took the wind out of my sails.  I was really pulling for her, because I drew so much from my own experience.  But the end sort of said, “You’re fooling yourself kid.  Every chick wants that, and the more you try to pull away from it, the more you’ll want it to.  Stop wasting your time.”  Eventually, I’ll post something that will make sense of this paragraph.  In theory, I could now, but I’m tired of blogging.  And I have to pee.

just b

Posted on by Beauty Jackson in Golden, Uncategorized 4 Comments

A New Week

There are not enough hours in the day.  Fortunately, I’m pretty well rested since I took Friday off.  isn’t it funny though, that no matter how much time you take off, you wonder where the time went?  I had this extra day, and i did get some ish done, but dang.  I would like to file a request to have more hours in the day.

The only reason I’m working is due to my own obsession.  I’ve added blogging to my daily writing exercise. After I finish with this, I have to comb the most monstrous fro in all of creation.  Think Lenny Kravitz’s drummer.

I’m still going through unsettled feelings about whether or not I should continue to live in Maryland.  There are times I want to be closer to fam, and other times that i love the anonymity being so far away affords me.  My family and friends are STILL pressing me to move closer.  In addition to not wanting to uproot my kids.  Now that I’ve moved away from “home,”  moving to another destination doesn’t make much of a difference to me.

I’ve decided that after Ladybug goes to college, I’m going to live abroad for at least three months.

Oh yeah, and WHY THE FUCK am I still seeing Joe the Plumber on television?  He is actually on television (Fox News, of course) taking questions from the audience?  What in the seven shits?  You know what…I’m going to get ready for tomorrow.

just b

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Andromeda

I ran across this picture.  I liked my face here.  Not because it’s a particularly good picture (I’m probably one of the least photogenic, non-ugly people you will ever meet), but I just look so damn happy in this picture.  I’m pretty sure I took this when my funk was in full swing, but I pulled this smile from somewhere deep.

At this moment, insomnia, disheveled fro (that is about to get cut OFF), legs slightly stubbly and all, that’s how I feel on the inside.  I’m still chubby, horny and broke. But I’m happy.  The wonderful thing is that nobody made me happy.  The fact that nobody has made me happy, makes me even happier.

But with all that happiness, I REALLY need to get to sleep.  This song is one of the most relaxing songs ever and I listen to it whenever I need to come down.

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Flavor Flav and Beyonce: Harbingers of the Apocalypse?

Mental Pestilence

Flavor Flav had a dream.  A dream to remain relevant.  I imagine that when he consulted with others to bring that dream to fruition, he was hazy on the details.  But I imagine that however the conversation began, it ended with, “Oh yeah…and chlamydia, G!  Lots of chlamydia! “  Hence, “Flavor of Love” was born.  Since it was a success, there were spinoffs, sequels, and copycats galore.  I mean, the shit has gotten so viral that the muhfukkas that were in a spinoff, got their OWN FUCKING SPINOFF?  Another spinoff cat is marrying an Oscar winner.  What part of the game is that?!  (And is the game that rough that Oscar winners are taking the sloppy seconds of someone whose vagina is essentially a living, breathing petri dish?)

It’s really got to stop somewhere.  Seriously.

Emotional War

That damned Beyonce knows how to go to the heart of the bitter woman, doesn’t she?  So first, she had all you chicks telling your men that he shouldn’t think he’s irreplaceable.  Fact check:  Beyonce is rich (and for the record, I’m more than sure that Jay-Z has put her through his own fair share of bullshit).  She has her own shit, so some dude all up in her shit and not breaking bread IS a dime a dozen.   You, my dear, are not Beyonce.  You and money are going half on the bills and the leased Pinto.  Or Nova.  Whatever.  Sit DOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWNNNNNNN.

Now she’s singing “If you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it.”  Now drunken angry bitches the world over are going to be shuffling on the dance floor dedicating this song to some troglodyte that they probably shouldn’t have even brushed up against in a crowded elevator, much less slept with (do people date anymore?), looking a hot ass mess.  Don’t let the smooth taste fool you ladies.  Beyonce doesn’t believe that shit. But she knows (or at least her PEOPLE know) that women are some bitter folks, and love songs ain’t really sellin’.  After she shot that video, she went home…to her man…the one with whom she split from and then returned to.  So before you parade your current temporary fuck in front of your last temporary fuck, you might want to marinate on that.

Thank you,

Mgmt.

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Ouch

I felt out of sorts, then I realized, I hadn’t posted today.  That’s insanity.  I had chills, fever, shingles.  What’s more, I had something funny to post, and now I can’t remember what it was.  I sort of wish that i’d written the idea down.

Just out of curiosity, how many brains does CSI plan to show?  I mean, it’s not even shocking anymore.  It’s just like, “Oh, wow.  More brains. *yawn*”

peace lambs

just b

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Sometimes

We want to believe in people who have no desire for our faith.

We want to love people who do not want our love.

We want to embrace people who recoil from our touch.

We want to behold people that want to disappear from us.

And, when faced with that harsh reality, we can do little more than let go, accept it, and keep it moving.

I’ve been on the emotional roller coaster lately, partially because that letting go shit is hard as a muthafucka.  Especially when you feel that there was something at least based on the foundation of friendship.  When that slips from you, it kind of feels like you’re losing twice.

And it hurts.  It all fucking hurts.  The confusion hurts.  The silence hurts.  The unanswered questions hurt.

Sucks much, but, c’est la vie.

Posted on by Beauty Jackson in Jewels, Uncategorized 1 Comment

Pigtails, security blankets and…merciless beatings?

I’m a tough mom.  In this day and age, whether you’re a single parent or not, you have to be.  I make no bones about the fact that if Finge and Ladybug act a fool, I will get in that ass.  Yet, there is no doubt that I do what i do because I want them to be well mannered and successful.  My kids will be the first to tell you that I don’t play.  To be frank, if that keeps them out of trouble until they have reached the maturity to see the much bigger picture of the whys and wherefores, I’ll take it.  I’m not going to be one of those parents whose inaction leads to them seeing their child in a jail cell or worse.

HOWEVER, children were made to be loved.  Before a person makes the decision to be a parent, there are some questions they really must ask themselves.  Renee Bowman did not ask those questions.

Her seven year-old adopted daughter was found roaming her Lusby, Maryland neighborhood, after having escaped her home through a second floor window.  According to a neighbor, she was bruised from head to toe.  According the the authorities, Bowman herself admitted to beating her with a hard heeled shoe.  As though this were not horriffic enough, a search of Bowman’s home yielded the discovery of the bodies of two other children in a freezer.  Bowman said the bodies of the dead girls had been there since February.

Bowman adopted the girls from the District, then lived in Rockville before moving to Lusby, which is in Calvert County.  There was no record of the girls being enrolled in school in Rockville’s Montgomery County, or Calvert County.  A neighbor reported the girls as missing, and was given some variation timeless speech when one expresses concern about a child to an over-burdened system, “We’ll look into it.”

Now, two girls have to thaw before the coroner can even determine what happened to them.  The surviving girl will have to undergo YEARS of intense therapy, lest this cycle of violence be repeated.  I dare not mention her being at risk for the spectrum of self abuse that she may engage in because she did not receive the requisite nurturing desperately needed by a young girl her age.

Bowman wasn’t some hard luck story that suddenly found herself coping with three children.  She deliberately brought these children into her home, under the guise of providing a better life for them.  The young girl was found with lesions, restraint marks, and open sores all over her body.  This is not the action of a woman who snapped.  Not even the action of discipline gone too far.  (There is NO reason for restraints to be used when disciplining a child.)

I have a seven year-old daughter, and the horror that she would have to experience to get the gumption to jump from a second story window turns my stomach. I become sad when I even have to fuss at Bug.

I don’t know what people expect when they walk the road of parenting.  it is WORK.  HARD WORK.  There are days when being a mother, a sane mother, is one of the hardest things I have ever done.  But, people, that’s the job.  Parenting goes beyond creating a mini-you and putting them in cute clothes.  It goes beyond furthering your legacy.  It is incumbent upon every parent to mold someone who can be a powerful and positive force in this world.

Our future can’t be allowed to slip through the cracks.

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