Tina Rivers

Tina was smart. Her conversation was always intelligent. Her voice was kind of earthy, always feminine but a little deep. It was sexy.

Tina was always a lady. She had a huge heart. She worked for a non-profit organization in New Orleans. She was professional and focused. Then, she'd get annoyed and say something about somebody getting on her nerves that was so profane. I'd always pause and replay the sounds I'd just heard to be sure that she'd said what I thought she said. Then, she'd giggle that Betty Rubble giggle.

Tina would get down sometimes. Then, she'd remember that she'd survived a miracle. That'd get her past a lot of the petty bullshit that office professionals deal with on a daily basis. Tina survived leukemia as a teenager. She'd received a bone marrow transplant and had a full remission. As far as she was concerned, life was too short to stay upset about a lot of the things we deal with.

Still & always, I miss you, Tina.

Tina got the sniffles. Then, she kept the sniffles. I nagged her like a li'l bitch about going to the doctor for two months before she went. She finally went to see the doctor. Her leukemia had come roaring out of remission. She was Stage 3, moving into Stage 4, already. She fought her leukemia, too. She fought it and did not give up. The Last Enemy won this battle, though.

Christina Rivers is my friend. Her death does not, will not, and cannot change that. This is not her birthday. This is not the anniversary of her death. I was just thinking about my friend today and I wanted to talk about her. She taught me to value the time that I have. She made me laugh at a time in my life when I didn't have much to smile about. She was a better friend to me than I realized for those lessons alone.

Getting This Off My Chest...and Moving On

I just stretched and popped all the kinks out of my chest.

* * * * *

Y'know, everybody wants different results but they don't want to change anything about what they're doing right now. This is ESPECIALLY true in employment and in relationships. I see and hear so many women complaining about the men they date. Three times out of four, there's a man to their right who loves everything about them and who wants nothing more than their love in return. But, he's usually not the type of knucklehead that she has her heart set on.

Taking my own advice, I think I'm about to find me a cute, fluffy chick who loves me as much as she loves her snacks. I know what I want. I want a pretty girl who loves her some me, who'll be my partner in building a LIFE for the two of us, and who won't give two fucks about the expectations inherent in our respective culture(s). I thought that's what I had. Turns out, I was the dummy. Yay, me!

I'm still really hurt about the way my relationship ended. I'm apprehensive about opening myself up to someone because I know the effort that I put into this relationship. I was very honest about myself and my life and my ambitions. I doted on her and put her above all. I supported her and really tried to communicate with her about the way she was feeling and the way I was feeling. I looked to her only and I stopped associating with all of the women who I used to talk to...to the point of completely cutting ties with some. She punted my heart into the stands and trotted off the field wearing a smirk.

You think that's hyperbole. I got hit by a car earlier this year. Not: my car got hit by a car earlier this year. I was a pedestrian and a li'l White girl whipped around the corner and into the crosswalk as I was crossing the street. After jumping airborne, I landed on the hood of her car. My ex-girlfriend hung up on me that night.  I wasn't arguing with her, mind you. I was honestly mulling over the fact that if I had gotten killed, there's no one in this godforsaken state who would even bury me. I told her that she should let my Dad bury me if something like that happens. He & I don't get along that well, but my father will always do the right thing. That was too much for her, I guess. She thought I was being a punk for considering my relationship with my parents.

Yet, when her family did some things to upset her...to the point where she was crying...I was there for her, letting her know that the situation would pass and that I had her back. I asked her if she wanted me to do anything for her. That's what I'm supposed to do for my woman, right?

Anyway...I'm done with all of that.

I'm trying to figure out what to do with myself. I think my next step should be getting my passport. Then, I can stop limiting myself to these borders and go make myself some money somewhere where they've never even heard of Love & Hip Hop.

Vainglory

It's interesting how this culture equates a man's parenting skills with how much crap he can put up with from his child's mother (and whether HE pays child support on time). "If he really wanted to be involved, he wouldn't let that stop him from seeing his child." May I please request that you push your head FARTHER up your ass to the point where it muffles your dumbassed mouth? The number of games that some parents play using their children as game pieces is staggering. Don't even think to pretend that women are not above using their children so.

The rule of thumb for you, my slow-witted friend, is this: Anything a man can think, feel, say or do, women have proven themselves just as capable of thinking, feeling, saying or doing. So, get off of that high, pretentious horse.

I have tried NOT to drag out details of my particular baggage because, "Hey! I picked her, right?" But, I will say that a man can get to the point where he wants to cut his losses in a situation...especially if the children are complicit in the duplicity. The promise and ability to "do what they want to do" goes far in gaining children's cooperation. After dealing with established patterns of behavior, enabling, deception and simple bullshit, I get to the point where I let them run headlong into the wall I see and they don't.

* * * * *

Professor X (X-Clan)

I've been told that I'm too serious. I don't have patience for some forms of bullshit. Love & Hip Hop (whatever city its filmed in) will never be something that entertains me. That show and those behaviors are some dumb shit. These types of folks are exactly who Professor X was describing when he said, "Vainglorious!" That you like the show says more about you than you're comfortable acknowledging.

When a person's sole criterion for judging the worth of an individual is their monetary net worth, they tend to deal with people who are devoid of real human emotion. You get people who treat other people, and worse: themselves, as objects.

Even if you realize that those behaviors are unhealthy, your viewership enables more of that type of programming to be greenlighted. "Ion't really like the show. I just watch it." *smh* That's what a rating is, numbskull. You increase the ratings just by having your TV on the channel.

I'd say that's food for thought, but whatever! Duwhutchalike...as usual.

Ever the fool...

• My ex-wife "kidnapped" my son. He visited for a weekend. I got a text telling me that he's moved in with her. I don't even know where she lives.
• My girlfriend broke up with me. Just dumped me and won't even talk to me now.
• The good ol' boy that I'm forced to work with under the restructuring of the company I work at takes inordinate glee in the twist he gives the knife that's perpetually lodged in my spine.
• I already have insomnia. Now, I can't sleep at all. I'm awake until I pass out, basically.

The Universe is up to her games of benign neglect, again. I relaxed a little with what I thought was a new lease on life and let myself forget. Lessons learned over ages, epoch, eras and millenia has taught her that the cruelest torture that you can apply to a man is to give him a glimpse of hope and then let entropy slowly rob him of everything he has & is...leading all the way up to him losing his life.

Let the Rain Come Down

What I like most about being in a relationship is the feeling of being a part of something that is greater than the sum of its parts. I thoroughly enjoy being able to talk to her and clear my thoughts knowing that she has my back and that she'll be there for me. I enjoy that because that's what I do my level best to do for her. I love HARD. I don't hold back. I'm wide open with my lady. Everything that I am, I give to her.

That's why my soul is rent, torn, and bleeding a steady, slow drip, right now. I'm having a really difficult time in ignoring this and forgetting about her, too. That's really what people mean by "move on", after all.

I promised myself that I was NEVER going to feel like this again. I was doing well, too. I was home, raising my children, minding my business, playing my PlayStation and not seeking affection or attention from ANYONE. Enough of that! Putting myself out there for the fickle affections of the 'modern American woman'? No, thank you! I'm good!

Then, here she comes! She's different. She's not like them other bitches! First words ever said to me? "Will you marry me?"

*smh@me*

Such a fucking sucker!

I keep hearing the lyrics to Prince's 17 Days in my head.

Fuck, I hurt!