You're Lucky That's All I Did

"Bust Your Windows" by Jazmine Sullivan

I bust the windows out ya car

And no it didn't mend my broken heart

I'll probably always have these ugly scars

But right now I don't care about that part

I bust the windows out ya car

After I saw you laying next to her
I didn't wanna but I took my turn

I'm glad I did it cause you had to learn...

I must admit it helped a little bit

To think of how you'd feel when you saw it

I didn't know that I had that much strength

But I'm glad you see what happens when...

You see can't just play with people's feelings

Tell them you love them and don't mean it

You'll probably say that it was juvenile

But I think that I deserve to smile

I bust the windows out ya car

You know I did it cause I left my mark

Wrote my initials with the crowbar

And then I drove off into the dark

I bust the windows out ya car

You should feel lucky that that's all I did

After five whole years of this bullshit

Gave you all of me and you played with it

Oooh ahh... I must admit it helped a little bit

To think of how you'd feel when you saw it

I didn't know that I had that much strength

But I'm glad you see what happens when...

You see you can't just play with people's feelings

Tell them you love them and don't mean it

You'll probably say that it was juvenile

But I think that I deserve to smile

But it don't comfort to my broken heart

You could never feel how I felt that day

Until it happens baby you don't know pain

Oooh Yeah I did it (Yeah I did it)

You should know it (You should know it)

I ain't sorry (I ain't sorry)

You deserved it (You deserved it)

After what you did to me (After what you did)

You deserved it (You deserved it)

I ain't sorry (I ain't sorry) no no oh... (I ain't sorry)

You broke my heart

So I broke ya car

You caused me pain (You caused me pain)

So I did the same

Even though all that you did to me was much worse

I had to do something to make you hurt yeah

Oh but why am I still cryin'?

Why am I the one whose still cryin'?

Oh oh you really hurt me baby

You really you really hurt me baby

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

now watch me yule

now watch me yule

I bust the windows out ya car...

Emotional Diplomacy

"I Need You Bad" by Jazmine Sullivan
...when you want it so bad...say oh oh oh oh...

So again, I have arrived in negotiation territory, and to be honest, I do not trust my own bargaining skills. For one, I can be, at times, wholly unrealistic. And two, I can be, at times, tragically pessimistic.

The juxtaposition of those two attitudes can sometimes make it impossible for the negotiation enzymes to fit in my life and do their job in making my life better (biological analogies might be my favorite thing to do with my writing).

Nonetheless, I make my offers, good or bad, always walking away feeling good until the deal does not hold up and I am left short or overwhelmed. Rarely, since puberty, has the negotiation of my happiness been close to what I was hoping for, but, be it resilience or ignorance, I still resort to the same negotiation table after less than satisfactory records.

Romantic happiness has been the most elusive, influenced by the ways in which I am damaged and my failed negotiations in other departments of happiness. For example, I am very unhappy with myself and present a lackluster product (broken me) and expect consumers to be satisfied. The disconnect is obvious but the solution is less easily seen.

But no matter what goes wrong, if it is/was my fault or his fault, whether or not I am sure I am ready to even begin negotiations again, or whatever other factors there are to be considered, when the situation presents itself, I am already drawing up contracts of expectation and documents of hope. And, I do so as if I haven't been hurt or as if the hurt did not matter.

But in those moments I was in the worst of pain, I felt as though I would never recover, and somehow, without my conscious effort even, I am reconciled and ready to try again.

My last negotiation fell apart because I was with someone who only wanted to fix me so that I could be good enough for him. There is obviously an inherent problem with that deal because ultimately I am not being "fixed" but being repaired to the standards of someone else. If I were indeed "fixed" to those foreign standards, I would still be broken to myself. I still would not like myself and I would still be unhappy. Consequently, so would the relationship with the person whose standards are being used to "fix" me.

Now, the negotiation is only with myself. I do not expect anything from him other than to listen and respond the way he feels appropriate. I will tell him when and how far I will go and I will even allow myself to be pushed a couple of inches, but I will have final say in the ending destination. In other words, I'm just going to let it flow and say if I can or cannot do something.

And if this doesn't work, I'm lynchin' this fool.

The Way You Make Me Feel

In My Mind by Heather Headly

...he's been through some things and I'm thinkin' he could really use a friend / in my mind...

Clearly, this is a rather racist advertisement (and it is a real American Apparel advertisement). Aside from the fact that it is racist though, it is striking, just aesthetically.

But...what the hell?

Who's idea was this and what is the point of it? What are they advertising exactly? I know that clothes are being advertised but the advertisement has to have the ability to connect the image to the product and make it relevant to the consumer's life. I don't feel like this advertisement is doing any of those things.

Still, while I am mad about the racist content I am stunned, a little, by how beautiful this is. That is a little disturbing that I am offended and mesmerized at the same time.

And who let their daughter pose for this? I assume they must not have noticed the racist overtones bleeding from the page. At least, so I hope, otherwise the tragedy is doubled in size.

I found this image looking for something about Black people in the media for an entry on my other blog and I had to use it. But it was so amazing that I had to comment on it separately. It is rather unbelievable that this is an advertisement is of the 21st century, because I thought racism was extinct. Just kidding.

September 12th

"I Decided" by Solange

I like using this small font. I don't know why exactly but it is much more aesthetic to me. The blog entries I write tend to be rather long and somehow a smaller font seems to consolidate the chaos.

Today is the day after September 11th and I was trying to remember what I was doing, what I noticed, what was going on around me on September 12, 2001. I was 14 at the time and the only thing I can really recall is that my Mom did not want us to tell people that we were Muslim and she would not let us go outside. That was annoying but having grown up, I realize what she was trying to do and I understand.

I remember it took a while before school went back to normal and freshman year of high school ended up being the longest year of my high school career for some reason.

I thought it was interesting that although I forgot that it was the seventh anniversary of the attacks, my blog entry on this particular blog was about planes (be they paper) and democracy (about home life). I didn't mean for that to happen, but once I realized that it was 9/11, it struck me as an unconscious attempt to remind myself. Read Magic Woman if you want to know what I currently think about the whole anniversary, consequent war, and all that.

Third World Democracy

Paper Planes by MIA

The parentals make me feel as though I am crazy, and really, I am. Despite being the victim of my own insanity, I still want my parents approval. I only denied that to myself for a brief moment, years ago.

I thought I was above pining for their approval, but no one is. No one is above pining for approval, period. The audience from whom you seek your approval may be different from the next person's, but the fact remains that you want to be accepted, you and all your bullshit.

So, to the idiots that think I don't know that I want my parents' approval, shut up. I know. Christina and I discussed this last night on my super dope phone and it kind of pissed me off. I don't understand how that is a reason for spilling all my business. But, such is life.

And on the subject of life, I still haven't been able to write that letter to my Old Lady. I have outlines and notes, but nothing cohesive. I just feel like nothing I write is good enough, clear enough, genuine enough, calculated enough, gentle enough to counteract the stupidity of another author. F. man, f. So with each wasted page, I sit and practice making paper planes, throw them around the room and pretend I am on them going to different vacation spots.

Brittany laughs at me and Christina fusses me out via text. No one else could control me like these heffahs. The truth hurts and they pack a punch, but they are right and all our personalities are too strong to back down, so a compromise is always made, which is good. I fix my life, and they get to keep me in theirs.

No one on the corner has swagger like us.

(MIA has been awesome for the past 4 years and I'm upset everyone else is picking up on me and Ravi's girl, because we loved her first, quiet as it's kept. Please believe me.)

Karmic Responsibility

In Love with Another Man: Jazmine Sullivan

This song doesn't apply to me, but it does something to a person that tricks you into thinking that it is somehow relevant to you. And if it is only a little bit true, that makes it all the more convincing.

Especially when she gets to apologizing in the song; it's so heavy and so dramatic, you forgive her even though she's not really talking to you.

And forgiveness is a funny, funny thing. It's fleeting and evasive but always around somewhere, almost as if to tease you.

I feel like I'm being teased. At times, I see it clearly and I forgive and I feel fine. I feel unburdened because anger is a heavy load to bear. Then at other times, when I am giving the solace of my own company, I feel just as bitter and even try to tell myself that I am entitled to my anger.

And I am entitled to it. I am entitled to feeling angry and betrayed but I am not entitled to keep malice on my mind such that I wish bad things for other people.

I am hard of forgiving like folks are hard of hearing. I almost can't do it at all. But I have learned from some people that forgiveness doesn't mean you forget or you are ever fully repaired or you forget how it hurt. It means you let it go. You don't add it to the tally of things done against you in life.

It's hard though because being bitter does taste sweet. But it ain't right.

Flaws & All, Part 4

Henry Ford Hospital, Frida Kahlo (1932)

The last consolation prize I can think of right now is I can get rid of the people who don't agree with that. I can walk away, at any time, from anyone whose help is not actually helpful. I might be damaged, but I'm not irreparable. I might be going down the wrong path, but I can turn around at any time. God does not believe anyone is hopeless.

I was however, angry with God. I feel as though each time I am about to do the "right" thing, I am somehow sabotaged. It was time to tell my mother. It has taken me a year to face the shame and guilt I caused and cause myself and I finally felt it was time to tell her. God knew I was thinking to do it and wanted to.

And I feel as though He should have blocked anyone else from doing it for me. It was important that she hear it from me and in the way I wanted to tell her. I know her. She is the woman who's approval I have pined for my entire life and I knew that news like that is devastating. I imagined the disappointed of hearing such a thing about one's only daughter.

And my poor Daddy. Our relationship has been rocky of late anyway. His frustration has turned into anger and now, I am sure, disappointment or even alarm.

But she needs to know...from me. In a calculated, sensitive, and gentle way, not from a note, a callus list she was never intended to see. Not from a piece of paper that was my personal thinking and mapping, meant to help give ME courage to say it the right way.

My Christina says to tell her anyway; to carry on just as I had planned because God is simply testing how serious I am about improving this existence of mine. And I am serious. I will tell her in the same sensitive and careful way as if she did not know already.

Because ultimately, I can never abandon my mother. For all her missteps, I have matched them, and she has done what she knows how to do. She will always be my mother, but I don't ever have to see him again. So hate on me...

And when a person tells who they are, believe them, all they say and do.

Flaws & All, Part 3

Funnily, I am not angry. I think anger neutralizes resilience and because I must move on with my life, I must pick resilience. It shocks me still, because anger is the emotion I am most familiar with, most ready to run to, and most likely to rely on.

My solace comes from a knowledge that fundamentally, I am a good person. My Christina reminded me that with all my bad decisions, my secrecy, my deceit, etc., never has she known a person to do so much for people without hesitation or invitation.

No matter what I do wrong, I can choose to do things right. That is one of my consolation prizes. Another is that there are people who love me no matter what, bullshit and all, and will not dangle my imperfections over my head in order to reign me in, in order to compel me to be and behave the way they want me to, like some people I have chosen to leave behind did.

My life is still and will always be the sum of my decisions, whether they be wrong or right. At least I have the right to make them. Depression, BPD, etc. gives no one the right to evacuate my life of privacy and does not make investigating my every move permissible. It still is and will always be my life. I exist even without you as you do without me.

Flaws & All, Part 2

Some of my ignorance, I think, is something all people share. Everyone needs and wants someone in their corner. So the people one has decided are reliable and in their corner are scrutinized in a different way. A person wants to believe the best about their family and friends, sometimes even in the face of abject contradiction.

So I believed the best although I knew the worst. Don't they say you may know better but not do better?

The tragedy really lies in denial. When everyone said it wasn't any good for me, and it was proven right, I hung on, not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. I felt like I'd had enough heart break for a lifetime so I didn't want to walk away even when SO many said I should.

Flaws & All, Part 1

Maya Angelou once said that if someone tells you who they are, believe them. I read that quote quite some time ago and I thought it was such a dependable piece of advice.

But I missed the more complex application. When she says "tell" you, she doesn't actually mean speech. A person may not tell you with his or her words who he or she is. Most people simply aren't that honest with themselves or the network of people around them to tell you who they are with their words.

They may give you generic and empty descriptions like "kind" or "thoughtful" or "intelligent" or "outspoken". Those adjectives are subjective. What I consider to be "thoughtful" or "intelligent" may be much different from the definitions another person has. So how, really is anyone any of those aforementioned things?

Of course, there are universal consensus about kindness and humanity and respect. We all agree murder is generally wrong. The difference in opinion come with the subtlies in details, not the big picture.

Nonetheless, rarely is a person emotionally equipped to tell who they really are. His or her true character is revealed in tests. The situations of one's0 life will test and provoke a response and the sum total of those responses will reveal who that person really is.

I missed that. I understand now, but I missed it. I saw someone based on what I heard. I trusted what I heard and overlooked what I saw.