Dear Mr. FuKyAfEeLiNgS!

Mr. FuKyAfEeLiNgS!, I've been attempting to ignore your lil punk ass but I can't do it any longer. I don't know why I act surprised when you visit. You are about as predictable as my menstrual cycle. The longer the string of good news, the more I need to get the guest bedroom ready for you to move in and stay a while. Usually I am deeply emotionally effected by your visits, but each of your visits is becoming less and less effective.

This week:

1. I managed to FINALLY win my three year battle with Clark Atlanta University for my scholarship.
   
2. A random stranger paid for my groceries.
3. I cut ties with all energy consuming individuals in my life.
   
4. I executed a plan to get the hell away from Sister Paterson's lair.
   
5. I had a wonderful hair appointment.
6. I recieved the images for the front/back covers of both of my books.
7. I was placed in a training position at my job, ensuring job security and approval of my supervisor.
8. My car insurance policy was finally sorted out by an excellent company.
9. I spent valuable time with a very special person in my life.
10. I realized everything has come full circle and felt extremely blessed.

This was just to much for you wasn't it? Yea, I know.

When you attack, you attack big. You have to. You know I go hard n the paint, so you go hard too. I count my blessings so you know you have to take one huge shot at me to knock me on my ass. Fuck you.

U aint shit.

For this particular list of 10 you decided to gut punch that ass when Sister Paterson refused to put her tax information into the FAFSA so I could get government financial aid. You played against my strengths. I'm young and independent with no kids. According to the government, still a Dependent. You went through the person who pisses me off the most, and waited until you could attack the area in my life that means the most to me. You fucked with my Education & Money. Too-Shay my nig.

Mr. FuKyAfEeLiNgS! I've learned to deal with you over the years. Just as you know me, I know you too. I know what you're capable of and I know your limitations. Any mess you do can be undone. It may take some hard work and creative thinking, but every wrong will be made right. You know this. That's why I call you: Mr. FuKyAfEeLiNgS! All you can truly hurt are my feelings.

You figure I'll get in my feelings about something and make a rash decision. You think I'll merely react instead of stopping to think. Unfortunately, you aren't God. You aren't omnipotent. You don't truly understand my innerworkings. You smile at the fact that your attacks piss me off and cause tears. You fail to realize that I count that as motivation to fuel my determination.

Your the dumbass in the fight that gets their opponent to the ground, don't have the know how to finish the ass whoopin', walk away and get hit in the back of your peanut ass head with a fuckin brick. DAAAAAAAAAYYYYYMN!!!! YOU GOT KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT!!!!!

Sound familiar?

Guess what, Mr. FuKyAfEeLiNgS!...the majority of my list this week was because of you. You cause me to reach higher heights and truly realize my potential. You knock me on my ass, but in the process you build me up.

In closing, I'll repost that list of 10 so you can see what all I've accomplished because of you.

1. You took away my scholarhsip. I got angry and fought for 3 years. I got it back, got a book out of the deal, and value everything more.
   
2. Not Applicable
   
3. You attacked my two closest male relationships. Two individuals in my inner circle decided to show their asses. I got anoyed. I cut ties with both, got my own damn phone plan, and have had the most drama free week in recent history!
4. You set me up. The house I was scammed/pressured into buying was foreclosed on so I ended up living with Sister Paterson. I got a job and worked long hours. I'm moving back into my favorite house in the whole wide world....the most peaceful place on earth...where it all began....my first house: in two weeks. I can now ease the anxiety of having my own shit while living in a controled and peacefull environment.
   
5. You attacked my hair. My old loctition broke appointments, used my expensive shampoo up on other clients, and tried to charge me for a style she messed up. I became riled up and found a new loctitian who is prompt, professional, and has excellent customer service skills with an excellent location and great prices.
6. You used my personal relationship with my first graphic designer to damage our business relationship. I became hurt and found a new graphic designer who designed two amazing front covers and an excellent back cover, showed me love on t-shirts...a logo...AND worked with a sistah's tight budget. I have a budding long term business relationship.
7. You got me fired. A 300 pound bitch claimed she felt her life was in danger because of me and I got fired so I got angry. I had a better paying job within a week. I love my job and I am earning the approval of my superiors through hard work not ass kissing.
   
8. You attacked all kinda random shit through my car insurance. An idiot company fucked up my insurance policy. I spent countless hours on the phone trying to get it corrected. I got angry. As a result, I got a new policy written by another company. I am extremely pleased.
9. You kept me away from a very special person. You killed two birds with one stone on this one. Took an angel home that affected the special person in my life & used my biggest pet peeves against me. We spent time together and it was great. I really value.
10. You keep trying to turn my circle into a damn square! The mintue I smooth out the rough edges in my life you throw me for another loop. Everything in my life HAS come full circle even if it has a few kinks. Your tactics are wack

Mr. FuKyAfEeLiNgS!....FUCK YOU!!!

Hell of A Ride!

I'm determined to ride this mothafucka til the wheels fall off! Of course i'm speaking about life. I couldn't be happier, and swear my art is suffering. I got whatever the hell Mary J. Blige got infected with. Her ass got so happy about life her art suffered. Sorry MJB, but I miss you when u were strung out on drugs....damn the music was good!!

I know I've been truly M.I.A this month, but I been grinding! Finally they created a Blogger application for the Android. Now I'm back in action like Jerry Curl Freetress Weave by Milky Way.

I'm excited ya'll!! The book is almost out and I have a fantastic man in my life (not a boyfriend...yet....just a damn good man). The bullshit with Clark can't even bring me down. For the record, those bastards yanked my scholarship back (AGAIN). I called to check on my paperwork and the man who reinstated the scholarship no longer works there. Guess what! He left no record. Now aint that some colored shit??? U wanna know what i did? I forwarded the stupid 2 line email from him to the woman over scholarships, started looking for a lawyer, and prepared a huge mail campaign to everybody from the board of trustees to professors.

Good ol CAU has til February 1st, 2009 before i seek legal action.

Life is a roller coaster with ups and downs. the ups creep up on you really slow, but the downs happen extremely quickly. You tend to remember the downs because you feel the effects more than the ups, but there's something about that ride up that makes you reflect on what the hell juss happened when u were down & what's about to happen when u peak. This Clark thing is just a minor dip in my life's ride. It's a hell of a ride and I'm stayin on it til the damn wheels fall off!!!

The Story, My Testimony, This is Me.

Find A Way or Make One

I've been knocked on my ass for the last time. As I expected, my body has readjusted its settings to transition into a mindset of a fighter. It's well into the wee hours in the morning and I managed to pull myself off of the computer, only to pick up my phone to write this post. One of Clark Atlanta University's motto is "Find A Way or Make One." I used to live by that. When you need a solid solution to a problem, you'll find yourself digging into the inner depths of you just to figure out every possible option. I remember watching this Whoopi Goldberg movie, where she kept a box of ideas her boss rejected. In a clutch she pulled them out when she was running her own business and didn't need the approval of her boss. I'm in a clutch, and damn right I'm taking it there.

VIA Sister Paterson's request, I'll soon be finding an alternative place to live. I found the perfect studio apartment, but events leading up to the eventual foreclosure of my home have left me with less than desirable credit. I want this place, and I will try hard to get it even if my cosigner doesn't get approved. 

My first taste of making my own way was when I realized that if I could drop $2,000 to pay the lease in full, I wouldn't need a cosigner. I don't know how the hell that's gonna happen, but it got the ball rolling. I immediately updated my craigslist ads selling my stove and advertising my writing/editing services. Then I priced other things to sell. From there, I got proactive and brushed the cobwebs from my Elance profile and submitted proposals for a few projects. Elance limits me to 3 free proposals/mo so I began exploring other options. I checked the "writing gigs" in Kansas City's craigslist. After realizing that I provide virtual services, I moved on to Atlanta's craigslist, then Austin's, and on down the list until I pulled myself off of the computer.

Her Royal Flyyness is back!

I remember when one of my big sisters taught me how to properly fight in school while getting in as little trouble as possible. She told me never hit first. If you hit first then you started the fight, and you would be the one to get in the most trouble. I later learned that if you don't hit first, you run the possibility of getting knocked the fuck out of giving that bitch the upper-hand. You also have to show moxy to be that first hitter. You are officially writing a check that your ass better be able to cash. That takes guts. Hell, even if you loose, at least you had the balls to try.

That's how I'm feeling now. My balls are full grown and I'm hitting life first before it can get me. I've adopted this new game plan and my body knows it. That's why I'm still awake at 4am. If I sleep, I'll dream. I don't feel like dreaming. I already have a dream. Right now it's time to brainstorm and act so I can achieve my dream.

God forbid I don't get this apartment, I'll be fine. I have a plan B, C & D. Yet and still, I have life by the balls...fingernails gripped in...twisting. Life's a bitch. Treat her as such and run that shit!

Down Goes Frazier!

"Kick Rocks Lil' Dude, It's Nuttin'"

So I won my second great victory in the war which is my education. The first victory was getting word that I could get my full ride back to Clark Atlanta University. The second battle began when I tried to get my transcript from The University of Missouri Kansas City but was told I had a hold on my account due to some unpaid fees. Apparently, they charged me three semesters instead of just one. It was emotional, but I fought the fees. I made an appeal which got turned down. I didn't give up though. I filed another one with a higher committee and just got word today that all charges were removed.

Thank God!

This was truly God showing his favor on me. That committee could have very easily demanded that UMKC get their money. The weak proof I provided paired with some divine intervention was enough to make this happen. When you have a strong willpower and a strong spiritual backing, road blocks in your life look as small as the kangaroo does in that picture. Coincidentally, the Kangaroo is UMKC's mascot (thank goodness I'm a PANTHER).

Today I went and paid off my campus parking tickets to get all holds removed from my account and got my transcript sent to CAU. I'm not gonna lie, it almost didn't happen. The ATM wouldn't give me my money but still debited the amount from my account. There goes God lookin out again. I had cashed a check from a client (I'm a freelance writer - digital portfolio available) and had enough cash to cover it.

Through this whole process, I have learned that problems may seem big at the time. They aren't. I just have to have faith and keep believing in my dreams. I know I can achieve my goals. Roadblocks are nuttin'. If David could knock Goliath the hell out with a rock, I can have victory over my obsticles. Perhaps Howard Cosell said it best during the Joe Frazier v. George Foreman fight:

Down Goes Frazier! Down Goes Frazier! Down Goes Frazier!

Plight of the Molded/Educated/Trained Negro

Honestly, I hesitated before writing this post. It's been on my mind for days and in my heart for years. Despite coming off as a pompous jerk, it must be written. I see this phenomenon all to often and can't stay silent anymore. If this offends you, then oh well. It must be said.

Sitting in this two week training class is like going back to middle school. People are just fuckin immature. It's like combining a class of college seniors with 7th graders. The differences in maturity levels and mannerisms is a contrast that can only be described as black and white. When grown women came dressed to work (for a business casual dress code) in jeans, ill-fitting slacks, tennis shoes that were obviously to small (or narrow), and ragedy hairstyles.....I said, "They are just hood." When these same grown women say immature/ignorant comments loudly to get noticed, pop their gum, argue with the supervisor, and get attitudes with their coworkers....I said, "They are just ghetto." When I reflected on my life, and where I grew up....I realized, "I'm both from the hood & have been called ghetto. I act nothing like them."

The fact is, the school I went to was in a district so fucked up that, as a whole, it wasn't accredited. A person just got shot in the front yard of a house I lived in while attending middle school and half of high school. While in college, a serial killer was stashing dead bodies in abandoned homes all around the house I lived in while in high school. The only real advantage I see, is that my mother holds a Masters Degree. Other than her advanced degree, I had the same advantages, in the same city, these women had.

Those who know me, have realized that I'm an extrovert. This means I think as I speak. I think as I type. After editing the title of this post a few times I've realized the key factor: CHANGE

In the title of this post I use three verbs which all involve change:

• To Mold is to give shape to OR influence the formation or development of
• To Educate is to give intellectual, moral, and social instruction to
• To Train is to teach a particular skill or type of behavior through practice and instruction over a period of time

Clark Atlanta University is known to be the hood school of the Atlanta University Center. CAU takes students who usually attended very urban high schools, and molds them into functioning adults. Our thought process changes, our mannerisms change, our attire changes....Our swaggers receive a complete overhaul. After two years at CAU, you are molded, educated, and trained to take over the world. I have to shout out Morehouse & Spelman for doing the same (even though the raw materials they are working with aren't quite as raw as Clark's).

The truth is, I started my process of change long before I even attended Clark. CAU just put the finishing touches on me. They buffed out the rough edges and gave me a spit shine.

My mother, as horrible as she may be at times, began molding/educating/training me at birth. I learned how to thrive in any and every environment by watching her. When I was younger I didn't understand it. I called it "acting White." Now I call it, being a well rounded individual. Just because I had a corporate mother doesn't necessarily give me the edge. I could have chosen to be completely unreceptive to it. At the same time, people without college educated parents could have been more receptive to sources of molding/education/training around them. For the most part, life is an even playing field.

So what's the difference between me and those select coworkers that make me cringe with embarrassment, the willingness and receptiveness to change.

The title of the post contains the word "Plight." I'm getting to that now.

For Black people who are receptive to this process of molding/educating/training, we aren't necessarily received with open arms back to the communities we came from.

We are called: Pompous, Arrogant, Sadity.
We are told we: Act White, Are Sell Outs, Think We Are the Shit

I think that's all bullshit. True enough, you have those people out there, but just because you know how to carry yourself and speak proper english when the time comes does not put you in any of those categories. Why are Black people like this? My mother always told me Black people were like crabs in a bucket. When one tries to escape, the others pull it back down. She forgot to tell me that when one finally does escape, the same ones who tried to pull it down ask for a handout so they can escape too. Now aint that some shit?!

I silently laugh at the fact that Black people far and wide support Obama. They wear T-shirts proclaiming "Me and My Mama Vote For Obama." When he comes to cities, they flock to him like he is the Messiah. I love the support. What I'm laughing at is the fact that if he went to their high school or was just that "mixed niggga" at their job, they'd be saying that he acts white or is a sell out. They'd call him arrogant, sadity, and find some reason why he thinks he's the shit. If he wasn't about to run the free world, he'd be in the same category as all the other Black people who managed to embrace the phenomenon of change.

Black people crack me up.

I started looking up words, as I so often like to do just to make sure I'm using them correctly. I looked up the word "Plight" and was surprised to learn there are actually two definitions. The first is a noun meaning a dangerous, difficult, or otherwise unfortunate situation. The second was one I didn't know about. Plight can also be used as a verb to indicate a pledge or a solemn promise. Let me take this opportunity to Plight my troth.

"The Plight of the Molded/Educated/Trained Negro"

I make a solemn pledge of loyalty to change.
I pledge to always embrace it.
Never be afraid of it.
I hereby, solemly pledge to be a student of change.

I Dream of F.I.L.A

"Forever.I.Love.Atlanta"

With the wheels well in motion for my move back to ATL in July 2009, I've been having these wonderful dreams of my return. I was born and raised in Kansas City but my heart resides in Atlanta. It always has. For 17 years I never really felt like I belonged in KC. The people never got me, I was often misunderstood, and nobody's vision was fuckin' with mine. I wanted out. As soon as the plane touched down in Atlanta for my childhood bestfriend's graduation, I knew I was home.

I can't say I've been to a huge amount of cities, but I have been to tons of airports. If you ever wanna know what a city is about just look there and you'll find your answer. KC has a really sleepy and slow airport but it's high tech. People in the inner city like to think this is a diverse city, but one trip to the airport will set you straight. ATL's airport employees are 90% Black. Travelers are about 65-70% Black. As soon as you step foot in this airport, it's clear you've entered the Black Mecca. ATL's airport is busy yet somehow laid back, consists of more stores than some small town malls, and everybody looks like they have some interesting story to tell. It felt like home to me.

I don't call Kansas City my hometown because it never really felt like home. It's not like I have aunts, uncles and cousins here. My own parents are transplants. Instead, I look at it as my springboard. Gymnasts use a springboard to get a lil extra umph to make their performances look super-human. Kansas City gave me a great education, street sense, and is now allowing me to get my money for my permenant move to Atlanta. If home is really where the heart is, Atlanta is my hometown.

For a person that often dodges sleep, I now run to the bed with hopes of being able to escape my current reality. I know that most of my friends have graduated and possibly left the city, but I don't care. Darwin & Crystal are still there so that's all that matters. In my dreams I go back to school and I get hugs from everybody. All I can really do is just thank them for being there for me through all these years. I'm so appreciative, I just really don't know how to express it and tear up every time. As much as I love dreaming, these dreams force me to embrace my reality and go to work. Most people work hard to survive and provide for their families. I'm working like my life depends on it. I can't afford to spend a second longer in this city then I have to. In Kansas City I merely exist. In Atlanta I live. F.I.L.A

U Know U Go To a HBCU When..

I saw this list on a friend's Facebook page. I didn't know what half of it was talking about, but I could definitely relate to the items I listed here. All of these items I have seen first hand. Though they may seem off the wall to you, I have seen them with my very own eyeballs at Clark Atlanta University.

• You had homeade frats/sororities. (I was in Phi-Hi-Psi)
  
• You knew exactly how many miles your car could go on E (Mine goes 30)
• Popcorn, french fries, Hot Pockets & Ramen Noodles were special gourmet items in your dorm room (I sold fully seasoned Ramen Noodles & delivered them to your room for $1.75)
• People showed up at the football games just to see the halftime show & left
• The Sigmas were cooking out somewhere (I think you have to know how to BBQ to gain entrance to this frat)
  
• The library was known as a gathering place (Club Woody!)
• You stole utensils, cups, bowls & condiments from the cafe'
• You had a "monitor" watching you walk OUT of the cafetaria searching for stolen goods (Damn if this aint the truest thing on this list lol)
• You knew the physical plant people or janitors by first name
• If the food/menu changed and was suddenly edible and delicious during parents weekend or when the board members met. (steak night and w/real silver, luau nite etc.)
• The best b-ball players refused to play for the school
• Everybody skipped class on the first hot day of spring

Nerd Nightmares

When I'm called an "Urban Nerd," I embrace it. Nerds make the money and though often teased, we always seem to end up on top. What could possibly strike fear into the heart of an Urban Nerd such as myself? Having to compete with even bigger braniacs and not being prepared. Last night was filled with what I like to call...
Nerd Nightmares:

The Cause: You all know I got my full tuition/fess scholarship reinstated (AFTER TWO YEARS) and plan to go back to Clark Atlanta University fall 2009. I have a bit of normal anxiety concerning my workload. I'll be a junior, an honors program student, have to maintain my GPA, and will be living off campus. Each of these factors stresses me out in a different way. The biggest thing that freaks me out, is not being prepared.

The Nightmares: I dreamed I was in an Ivy League environment. All the geniuses from high school were present along with a hard up British teacher. To kick things off, I was late to class after discovering my car, Imani, was stolen. I had to explain the situation to the teacher and tell her I may be leaving class to take phone calls from my father as he tried to track down the car. The nightmare continues....

Un-characteristic of me, I searched for a seat in the back of the class. The teacher redirected me to the front row. We started taking notes. I couldn't see the board, I didn't have the right pen (I only write with Pilot G-2), I couldn't even read her handwriting. It was a class teaching us how to Research, but for some reason she was talking about the configurings of the human hand. As the other braniacs fought to answer questions, I was completely lost. Had there been assigned reading for the first day that I missed?
The nightmare continues...

I went to the cafe' where I saw the guy who stole my car. I don't know how I knew it was him, but I knew. His name was Sunny, he was a white man with surfer type blonde hair. In true "Urban Nerd" fashion, I hit him with the butt of my gun in the back of the head. Got my damn car back and stressed over the cash to get the steering column fixed (it had been hot wired).
The nightmare continues...

I went to the bookstore to buy the four required books for that British lady's class. That's when I remembered my refund check hadn't come yet. How the hell was I gonna afford them? Somehow I raised cash, stuffed the books in my backpack and headed back to my dorm room to study only to realize that I had no dorm room. I woke up wondering if I needed to buy a study room from the library (Club Woody), and weither or not I was truly ready to live off campus.
The nightmare ends.

The Apology

Nothing really intriguing has happened to me today...the night is young & knowing me I could very possibly wind up committing 3 felonies in 4 states by the time the clock strikes midnight. Despite what the night holds for me, I can't help but sit in my bed and think about my first love: Clark Atlanta University. I also can't help but wonder what the hell happened to my "Apology Shirt."

Here's My Tribute:
Note: I'm feeling quite random right now so bear with me

• I'm sorry you're not as flyy as me
  
• I'm sorry you can't see the beauty in a plus sized woman
• I'm sorry it's 2008 and you still won't date a brown skinned woman
• I'm sorry you still think putting crack creme (relaxers) in your hair is cool
  
• I'm sorry you got so desperate to win that you chose a gun slangin', inexperienced, woman you only met once to run beside you
• I'm sorry you're 23 years older than Alaska
• I'm sorry you're gonna loose
  
• I'm sorry you're not a Clark Atlanta University student
• I'm sorry you think rounded circles in stepping is fine
• I'm sorry you can't step as hard as me
• I'm sorry you can't grill
• I'm sorry you don't even know what a grill is
• I'm sorry you think you've had real BBQ
• I'm sorry you don't realize Kansas City has the best BBQ
  
• I'm sorry you don't know how to get hyphy, go dumb, or get stupid
• I'm sorry you don't agree that "Thizz is what it is"
  
• I'm sorry you still use a PC
• I'm sorry your computer still gets viruses
  
• I'm sorry you can't get down with reggae
• I'm sorry you think SouljaBoy is hip hop
• I'm sorry you don't realize that I.Am.HipHop
• I'm sorry you don't have a Nintendo Wii
• I'm sorry you can't play Super Mario World or Super Mario 2 & 3

(Take A Breath...)

• I'm sorry your cell phone services aren't free
• I'm sorry my cell phone has never been cut off
• I'm sorry you don't know how to boil down chicken backs, throw in diced tomatoes, tomato sauce, mixed vegetables, and throw them in a pot with 2packs of Ramen Noodles to make a meal when you're broke
• I'm sorry your DVD collection isn't as extensive as mine
• I'm sorry you rely on MySpace to get dates
• I'm sorry I denied your friend request
• I'm sorry the only people who even know your record label exists are those you bombard on MySpace to add you as a friend
• I'm sorry no one wants to buy your shitty song for .99 cents
• I'm sorry there are still internet thugs
• I'm sorry internet groupies even exist

I Feel Life...

For two years the doctors had me doped up on anti-depressants and other mess as they labeled me as Bi-Polar. I was like a zombie, only felt numb or slight joy. I may have a few anxiety issues, but I'm definitely NOT Bi-Polar. I quit taking those meds a few months back and have never felt better. Hell, I got out of a dead end relationship & even dropped 4olbs!

I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach. It's official, I feel life.

I'm feeling the frustration of unemployment. Absolutely NOTHING has gone right during this lengthy job search. I'm no good at phone interviews, apparently suck at drug tests (see previous post), and simply don't have enough gas to drive out to the "good" jobs.

I feel betrayed. First by my father who forced me into buying a house just so he could get his investment out plus an extra $40,000. Next by the so-called friend who moved in and robbed me blind. Lastly, by the mortgage company who agreed to lower my interest rate and payment, but later said the conversation (which I have documented) never happened, and raised the payment. This new spike caused my unemployed n struggling ass to loose the house. It's being auctioned off next month. At least I'm in good company with the rest of America.

I feel lost in life and love. Am I really supposed to be in Kansas City right now? It has been made available for me to go after love while becoming financially stable in Atlanta...is that what I'm supposed to do? Are their better job opportunities for me in Atlanta? I'm so confused.

Sounds odd, but I'm actually grateful for these feelings. It shows that I'm getting back to normal. Instead of getting down, I just look towards the future. This situation is only temporary. By May I will be in Atlanta, in late August I will be starting school at Clark Atlanta University. Just gotta keep pushing towards that goal. I gotta keep my head up because I have no choice. Push or Die!