Peaches, Trepidation and Financial Aid Refunds. March 8, 2010

When I was 16 I was 90% sure I had the world completely figured out. I knew exactly how life would occur and knew nothing of the repercussions that a majority of my actions would cause.

Being a teenager was fantastic; minus the angst and self deprecation life was a peach. I was always one who figured things out easily, learned quickly and didn’t utilize this gift appropriately. I was a B student and managed that amongst the procrastination and complete preoccupation with my pubescent relationship; whom I assumed was the alpha and the omega. I avoided projects, papers and home work and instead spent hours on the phone talking about nothing of any significance and resent myself for it now.

I didn’t realized the opportunity that lay before me if I had properly applied myself. I was an honor and AP student but didn’t properly seize the scholarships, grants or fellowships that could have easily alleviated some of my financial woes. I didn’t realize how key money was in the college game until I was enrolled my freshmen year.

I was lucky enough to have a PEL grant that covered 80% of my tuition my freshmen year. Freshmen year was amazing; 3.9 GPA, I was working full time, applying myself in class but financial aid missed me in the summertime. I missed the financial aid window for my sophomore year and was left in a panic waiting tables. I was still in the city where my father resides so I had a place to stay but I felt completely stagnant by not doing something to better myself academically. I decided to go on a whim and reapply to Howard University in Washington, DC, taking this current lag as a notice to explore the world on my own two feet. I was accepted for the following spring semester and managed to apply for and receive a private student loan that assisted in paying for my tuition.

January 1st 2007, I was living in my own apartment in DC and about to start my sophomore year at the school I desperately wanted to attend. I waited tables to pay rent and attended classes, I managed a 3.7 GPA for the semester where I studied Arabic, Literary Criticism, Russian Literature and African American history. I was also working 40 hours a week waiting tables and barely scraping by. I would never change my decision to move to DC and make something work for myself, I was probably the happiest then even though I was still sitting and not acting on what I want to do with my life. I’m grateful for DC and for it leading me into the military because here I learned exactly what I want and need to be doing with my life (and god knows its not staying in lol).

It’s amazing the resentment you can host for yourself when you look back and realize a number of your missteps. I had limitless potential and was trying to make my situation work but money has never been my strong suite and soon enough I was unable to ascertain finances to keep me in school for the following fall.
If I would have taken the extra time and energy to investigate scholarships and grant programs both in high school and college I would have more than likely been able to hold a degree by this time. I get to see photos everyday of friends, friends who have graduated, friends who are chasing their dreams, friends who are not afraid to continue on in their educational quest as I still feel stagnant. Wondering why I couldn’t motivate myself to push a little harder or do a little better so I could be with them. Then again, a screen writer and novelist really doesn’t need a PhD or Masters in literature or film.
I sit now and type, drawing from experiences in my life that will hopefully paint an interesting enough story to one day make my dreams come true.

I have set a personal goal for myself, I want to have my PhD by 34; not for my friends, not for my family but for myself. I am no longer going to idle by the water and let my dreams drift out to sea.

Complacency and ADD December 15, 2009

Inconsistency strikes yet again; I managed to leave a 5 month lag between old and newer posts. I’ve also utilized the most evil punctuation in all of grammar: the semicolon*.

If you plan on reading something cohesive, today is not the day. I’m having one of those fractured, stream of conscious type of days. Leave it to a day of work and continual ADD to have me rambling on about more or less about the moronic and small aspects of the day than the things that are actually troubling/inspiring me.

I’m not kidding about the ADD, I’m starting to get concerned. I was never this distracted in my life before, I’m starting to feel as if I cannot focus on anything for more than 5 minutes at a time. Only time I don’t feel like this is when I’m working traffic and that’s because well those are people in planes and distractions can be bad. In part, I think air traffic is contributing to my ADD because I am used to constant stimulation so being alone with my thoughts becomes boring.

Aside from that I’ve still been beating the bitch ‘COMPLACENCY’ with a bat. You ever wonder why we run from comfort? I am able to waste hours of my time doing mundane and regular activities and still claim I will not fall into a pattern of complacency. How many people actually do this? Are we so scared of becoming comfortable and normal that we sabotage our own happiness?

Give me some feedback, I fully intend on following up on this issue with a clear head and better perspective but know I need a day when I can actually FOCUS.

Talk to me people, whats your biggest fear and concern?

*Jacked that opinion from Kurt Vonnegut ‘s ‘Man Without A Country’

R.I.P King of Pop June 26, 2009

Regardless if the man has a tarnished legacy or not there is no denying that Michael Jackson IS and always will be the greatest entertainer to have graced this planet. R.I.P to the King of Pop.. you leave a legacy of music and have inspired countless performers that will carry the torch.

Thank-you.

‘Billie Jean (Live @ Motown 25)’

‘Never Can Say Goodbye’

‘They Don’t Really Care About Us’

‘Smooth Criminal’

‘Man in the Mirror’

‘Remember the Time’

‘Jam’

It’s Only Tuesday?! June 24, 2009

A Haiku:

The days like today
You need a 6 pack and hug
It’s only Tuesday

A Brief Memoir: A Child Should Never See Their Mother’s Anal Beads June 23, 2009

I couldn’t really recall my favorite cereal at a young age, or my default choice in afternoon television but I can easily map out a lot of my family memories.
I’m not really sure if that is a good or bad things given the dynamics of my family life.

My parent’s split when I was 8, prior to that I almost prided myself in having a normal life. Define ‘n0rmal’ however you will. My mother coached cheer leading and softball and was there for all of the homeroom functions. My father worked and golfed– traditional gender roles achieved. I can remember  being 8 and pitying the kid’s who had to take plane rides to see a parent, or split week-ends between two homes.

I had no idea just how ironic life could be at this point, but shit did I ever learn.

My parent’s broke the news in any traditional way. They took us on a huge dream vacation so laden with awkwardness that in my 8 year old innocent delusion I could even detect this. If the awkward dinner’s and uncouth distance between my parents didn’t give it away, it was my mother’s hysterical laughter when watching my father plunge into the crystal blue Gulf of Mexico while a freak accident ensued during a routine bout of para-sailing.
My father was okay, maybe to my mother’s dismay.

The split was for the best in my mother’s opinion, my mother claimed an awakening of sorts. Her career eclipsed my father’s and she felt the castration her pay performed on his damaged the marriage. She was quick to split the city we resided in because she couldn’t handle the shame and embarrassment of seeing my father’s family. She packed, she left and sooner than later we met her new lover.

Jesus Christ, any sexual confusion I have ever experienced or noted need for experimentation has stemmed easily from a lot of these early experiences.

My mother delved into the BDSM scene and introduced us to her new ‘Master’ although obviously he wasn’t incorporated into our lives as an inadvertent owner of sorts. Only a man who managed to have her move 3.5 hours south of her family and who was married. I am not one to criticize a need for sexual exploration or satisfaction. Personally, I think it’s a beautiful thing to explore yourself and know yourself on all levels; spiritual, mental and physical. There’s not anything copacetic about a child seeing her mother’s anal beads hanging in the living room, nor hearing her mother call a man ‘Master’.

The relationship ended.

My mom blossomed into new relationships and began delving into her inner lesbian. My mother is still currently a lesbian. Too often I would be waiting for my mother to get off the phone with her long distance lover when visiting for the week-end. She’d be on the phone for hours with her lover, a black lesbian who was in a polyamorus relationship with two other women.

By the age of 13, my mother had been bartending and began taking me to work with her when I’d visit. I was a hit in the Myrtle Beach gay bars, if it was singing karaoke or just sitting around and conversing with the different characters.

Drag queens, butch bad ass bithces and bears.. Oh MY!

I experienced a various scenes of sorts and feel as if I learned a lot in the means of tolerance. Sadly by the time I was 14 I had also gained enough knowledge about blow jobs that I should have been a professional without ever administrating one. I maintained my sexual innocence in the process but saw my fair share of drugs and behaviors that were far from acceptable on a mainstream scale.

I am never one to judge nor claim that mainstream and conventional ways of viewing gender, sex and life are healthy; I believe in and limitations. I believe boundaries and limitations allow structure to breed a sense of identity and personal understanding. Even if oppressed one can define themselves through that oppression and through the definition and creation of themselves they can grow. To throw such a free sense of character and personality on a child at such a young age threw a wrench in my personal development.

I saw more damage done to a friend of my mother’s daughter, she spent the summer with me and I saw her destruction easily come. I often wonder today what strip club she’s performing in or what new variety of meth or heroine she’s consuming. Her teen angst and desire to experiment carried her through threesomes and self piercing and mutilation. When rolling up a blunt in my mom’s kitchen one night her coke stash slipped out of her pocket and hit the floor. She was 13.

I’ve hit blunts with my mom. I’ve seen my mother partake in shit no child should even imagine their parents doing. I’ve also seen my father cry while listening to Bob Segar, cry thinking about my mother, cry thinking about just how much the divorce and everything hurt him.

I don’t judge him for crying, I don’t judge him for ‘stifiling’ my mother’s growth as a woman.

I don’t lay blame or claim to anything that might’ve hindered either of their growth as individuals or one. I just often wonder why our desire for conventionalism will lead us to rush into things we damn well know we’re not ready for. My parent’s 16 year marriage was based on a loose standing relationship and was rushed into due to my mother’s pregnancy. I would never claim they didn’t love one another at one point, I wouldn’t claim that love disappeared as their own issues with conventionalism was challenged. I wouldn’t claim or say much because I don’t claim to know much.

All I know is a child, should never see their mother’s vibrator or anal beads.

Feminista April 7, 2009

The funniest thing She said with a laugh is before I am anything, I am a Woman.

Papaya Oil(s) in a Beachside Sandcastle April 7, 2009

… lingering the smell of papaya oil bottled lying  next to a bouquet of dried flowers.

Windows open and light breezes soft reminders of summertime’s approach

Appeasing the senses of night

…. white wine and chamomile petals soft tones, flavors, scents

over old pages of dog earred manuscripts that smell of academia and senseless intelligence
and ever still slightly she waits.

For the clock to change to another hour of another day to feel the transitions of seasons
days passing like wintertime snow angels in spring heat
bright eyes in harder times

faith in the moments of lofty ambitions and concurrent ideas

It is only at the patience of herself that she can learn that papya oil and lilys which bring her happiness
in her momentary midst
are the things that will lead her to bloom in the later avenues of life.

She is gifted, complicated and listless
but living in her beachside sandcastle

Temporary penatonic tones of satisfaction
her requiem
and reminder
to seize the seasons

the tide
the time
Her life.

Diction in Four/Foreplay March 24, 2009

Guess you could say I managed to harness my A.D.D enough to pen this out.. Might do a few modifications to it later but I enjoy it for now.
Piece is dealing more or less with duality of words and thoughts and the struggle to become in tune with yourself on multiple levels.
The fragmented flow of the piece is intended. Enjoy.

I. ‘Seduction’
I know the allure stands to pick apart
Couplets & stanzas
Dissect the meanings of paragraphs
And words
Adverbs caressing the sweetest verbs
Who are running game on hyperboles
All the while making love to similes
and endearing themselves to MY syntax
as they relax their meaning..

II. Introspection
..and paint Mine
As I focus My Words in meter & rhyme
In error and Eros
Ethos & Pathos
I Express the deepest sentiments
As I Attest
but further digress the portraits of My
Oral Progress
And only test the limits of My
Circumference…

III. ‘Reflection’
…When fronted by those often times stunted
by those Lunar thoughts
as they saddle The sun/son
and lose The moon
Chasing words of wisdom
In the Youth of afternoon….

IV. ‘Acceptance’
…But my reason ain’t reason
Just my methods to get You seasoned
On forward motion and making moves
On this verbal foreplay
and Our dissection of Our moods…

EPILOGUE
…As I allow
the words and Worlds reflect me.
And in the direst of straights
Turn My ignorance
to Your maturity.
And My sunset to Your Afternoon.
As Our ambiguity becomes
Our evening’s bloom.

-The Lipstik Activist.
Peace.Love.Light

Music Videos of the Week: Love. March 14, 2009

The motivating factor behind almost anything I do is music.
From here on out I am going to make a post highlighting music videos from several genres that I give full props to.
This weeks theme: Love.

Neo-Soul/R&B:
Erykah Badu & Stephen Marley: In Love With You

Old School:
Al Green: Free At Last

Reggae:
Steel Pulse: Your House (Live)

Rock:
Incubus: Dig

Hip-Hop/Rap:
Lupe Fiasco: Paris, Tokyo

Jazz:
Nina Simone: My Baby Just Cares For Me

PEACE.

Moment of Clarity. March 14, 2009

“Thank God for grantin me this moment of clarity
This moment of honesty
The world’ll feel my truths
Through my Hard Knock Life time
My Gift and The Curse
I gave you volume after volume of my work
So you can feel my truths”

Jay-Z  ‘Moment of Clarity’

I am not sure what recently has taken me over, usual one who opt’s for a constant darker pensive disposition rarely has an epiphany of light. I stepped back and accepted a gift from God, a gift of clarity, a gift of learning I am not always in control.

God humbled me when I was running scenerios in my mind, scenerios pertaining to my personal emotional development. Tendencies to over mull over break ups, or rejection seem to be a terrible habit of mine and I was revisiting my last situation which, still had me confused.
It seemed almost instantaneous that the notion of ME disappeared and I had an honest recognition that God had completely replaced ME. I kind of realized I needed to better prioritize my emotional dependencies and for once place my spiritual faculties in the forefront of all else.

What does that mean? No, not a holy roller by any means. I prefer introspection and relying on the God within you rather than seeking what another man deems as God. I am well aware that the Creator did just that, Create. I felt as if God created an outlet to breath, aided in respiration by allowing my mind to take a collective breath in and amazing release. Creating one light that cast light on numerous, previously unexplored avenues of my mind that were unbeaten given my often sullen disposition. A candle was lit in my mind which, although small and fragile on the outside, harnessed a strong and passionate flame on the inside; my mind was now expanding.
I also recognized a lot of the things in life I was over looking.
Humans have an amazing skill when it comes to taking advantage of things that are commonly placed directly in front of our face.

So I made a personal commitment to seek God before I seek self service. Also if anyone knows of any good Mosques around the Trenton, NJ area I’d appreciate it.
I just pray that my writing and personal development will grow greater in God considering the inspirational tendencies of something so great. If I can pray that the one candle God lit can turn into just two, I am well aware of the many tasks I could easily undertake. Then again I am thankful for what I have and will have to come in my future.

May God bless you and yours and raise your spirits high

GOD IS: Peace.Love.Light

-The Lipstick Activist