Heartless

"You broke my heart and I let you succeed, cuz to a player that's an organ that you really don't need." - Sugafree

I wasn't heartless til the fucker broke the one I had all up into parts.

I mean really what was I gonna do with a broken heart?

Shit that's broken is useless to me... unless we're talkin bout broken down weed

Sometimes things just can't be fixed, especially if they've been shattered

So I just said fuck it and let him keep what was left

Cuz the way I figure, it don't even really matter

Music

I want a guy who's playlist is similar to mine but with a few extras to enhance what I've got.

I want a guy who when he hears the salsa o merengue come into rotation, he doesn't immediately change it.

But instead he listens to it and appreciates the sound of the congas, horns and güira and the precision of the timing, realizing that to analyze and understand the music is to analyze and understand me.

I want him to be able to plug into my player and feel like he's hearing his.

I want to appreciate the diversity between his list and mine.

I want his music to expose me.

I want it to pull me apart and then put me back together using the melodies, harmonies and tempo as the glue to reinforce.

I want his music to flow through my body as naturally as bossa nova causes me to move and sway my hips.

I want his music in me.

Off the Hook

You ever been fishing? I've only been once or twice in my life, but this is what I remember of it:

1. Take the fishing rod and bait the hook.
2. Step back a little and then cast the line out.
3. Wait
4. Wait
5. Cuss
   
6. Wait
7. Pray
8. Wait
9. Pray
10. Wait.Cuss.Pray

This is probably just my take on it. Again only been once or twice. However when I've seen other people do it, whether it be on TV or in person, other folks always seem to catch a fish. But me? Never. Not once. I admit this is probably largely due to the fact that I am impatient as fuck. I HATE WAITING. Always have, so fishing is probably not something that I should fuck with anyways right?

Well it seems like this whole concept of "fishing" constantly follows me. Even when I'm not trying. I notice this main in my "love" life. (Love is in "" cuz well really there isn't a whole lotta love in my life. I'm not sad or anything like that over it. Actually I'm content with the way things are. My life is plenty complicated and busy without any extra "love". ) I use to be hopeful when I'd cast out my line, feeling the slight tugging on my heart strings thinking I'd caught the big one... only to real in my line and find out I'd caught a damn guppy =/ Toss it back. On and On this went until I said Maaaaaaaaaaaaan FUCK THIS, cuz you know like I said, I'm impatient. That catch and release bullshit ain't for me.

Lately, last two years or so, I've been the fish on the hook. Luckily I've more or less been able to realize when the bait used on the line ain't worth snappin at. Unfortunately, cuz there's been more bullshit bait on the lines I'm sure I've swam past some bait worthy of consumption. Even the few times I've found myself nibbling on the bait, I've backed up. Hell I've been slightly hooked, but pulled away before I was truly captured, getting off the hook left scars but fuck it... even at the thought of this I just gotta *shrug*. Cuz honestly I feel like Nemo when he was trapped in the aquarium... knowing there's an entire ocean out there, I can't bring myself to be content with biting at just any baited hook... no matter how tempting. I won't allow myself to get hooked. I'm not ready to be pulled out of waters I haven't explored.

I just hope I don't get eaten by a shark avoiding the hook.

Light Skin, Bright Skin: Part 2... Sorta

"Immigrant parents had me feeling like a stepkid/Black Americans never did accept me" - Wale

"Shades" is currently one my favorite songs. I remember the first time I heard it after vibin and nodded my head to the dopeness of the beat, lyrics and Chrisette's beautiful vocals... I half wanted to karate chop Wale in the throat for reading my "Light Skin, Bright Skin" and flippin the concept without giving me my props. It's so rare that I can feel a song as deeply as I do this one. Not just on the skin color tip either.

For those that are just tuning in & haven't read any other of my previous postings, 1.) Shame on you. Go read them. and 2.) I'm obviously mixed. My mother is Mexican. Cali born and raised, and non Spanish speaking. My father is Haitian and Dominican, born and raised in Port au Prince, Haiti, English, Spanish & French speaking. My parents divorced before I was even aware they were together. I was raised primarily by my dad and stepmom. My dad remarried my stepmama when I was about 4. Stepmom is straight Nicoya, meaning she's from Nicaragua. I don't remember her speaking anything but Spanish for the first year or two she was married to my dad. So picture it... Early 90s... here you have this super light, slightly napped headed (cuz Lawd knows my stepmom didn't know what the fuck to do with my mixed textured hair... hell at 23 I barely know what to do with it), Spanglish speaking, biracial little girl.

I was privileged enough to go to private schools for a majority of my childhood. This particular one I'm gonna speak on was nestled in near the Oakland hills, nice area. Their curriculum was challenging and far ahead of anything my cousins who went to public schools were doing. And more than that, it extended beyond the books. There was a heavy focus on nonviolence and tolerance of other cultures and races. They kept us up on current affairs, they didn't sugarcoat much. Black History Month, Hispanic Heritage Month and St. Patrick's Day were celebrated equally. In 1994 (age 8), I not only knew what apartheid was, I could spell it, tell you why it was an issue and Nelson Mandela's role in demolishing it. I knew who Cesar Chavez was and what the farmer works movement was. I did book reports on Sammy Davis, Jr. I sat next to and hugged Jane Goodall. I got the chance to TALK to Mother Teresa and have her pray for me. I mean I only said "Hi, How are you?" but still. I've kissed both Jerry Rice and Jason Kidd on the cheek. By the age of 9 I'd experienced things most folks NEVER will. And more importantly "WHAT" I was didn't matter as much as WHO I was. I wasn't put into a box.

That all changed my first year in public school. I was bout 10 or 11 and given a rude awakening. My school was still in Oakland, predominately Black American sprinkled with a few S. Pacific islanders, Mexicans, White kids, and "standard" (Black & White) mixed kids. I didn't get beat up or nothing like that, not physically. I just really remember feeling so fucking out of place cuz for the first time ever I really realized I was different. I wasn't mixed like the other mixed girls. My hair wasn't "mixed" looking the way theirs was. I was brighter than most of them. When they talked bout what they ate for dinner there was no mention of goat or lengua, maduro/bannann, djon djon or arroz y frijoles. Breakfast for them was Apple Jacks or a Twinkie.
**Side note: I STILL don't know what the fuck Apple Jacks taste like and I didn't know what the hell a Twinkie tasted like til I was 19 when my ex had me try one cuz he couldn't get over the fact that I didn't have them growing up** I ate stuff like Mangu, AK100 or eggs and rice and drank papaya or guava juice for breakfast. And in my naive lil mind and logic, if they were all on the same page, I had to be the weird one cuz I wasn't. I had immigrant parents who immersed me so far into my cultures and had come from a school that was so culturally accepting and open, that being on the opposite end was quite the mind fuck to say the least.

I fought with my stepmom, who by now had learned how to manage my hair, to get her to stop braiding it. I figured out how to straighten it on my own so I could look more like the Black Americans and "Standard" mixed girls I hung with. I threw away the maduro, queso cotija, arroz y pollo that was made for my lunch, saved my allowance so I could buy school food and eat what they were eating. I stopped speaking Spanish at home, answered only in English and only spoke Spanish when I had to. I just wanted to be "normal". I wanted to be accepted. Now as an adult I would call this an identity crisis. My issues with my race, or rather the lack of being able to have my own box to mark, were damaging for quite some time. I really struggled with what I was more than who I was. Some Black girls and some Latina girls fucked with me and were cool, but most didn't and weren't. To the Latinas I was the Black girl trying to be one of them cuz I could speak Spanish. To the Black girls I was the halfbreed trying to be like one of them. Don't get me wrong... I wasn't a loner. Far from it. But on the inside this is the bullshit that I struggled with. Throw my transition into puberty into the mix and you can understand why I was (am lol) so off center.

So when I talk bout the whole Light skin Dark skin and In Between skin... it's not just bout color for me. It's everything and anything that goes into what made that skin. I won't say it's a touchy subject for me, cuz I'll gladly discuss it with you any day, any time... but I can't even lie thinking about some of the stuff I use to do to "fit in" and be "normal", and even just writing it now, brings tears to my eyes. I was raised within my home & family life to be proud of who I am, where my family comes from, to embrace my cultures. As an adult it sickens me to think that I ever tried to hide the beauty of the cultures that is ME. I'm appalled that something as simple as a switch in schools, in the same city mind you, made me want to not be who I am... beyond the way I dressed or any of that, but to change the physical makeup of who I am... all because I didn't have single box to check or know how to explain my cultural background so other people wouldn't have that o_O look and ask "Sooo um WHAT are you though?" As an adult I can also just chock it up to just being naive... but Fuck.Shit.Damn that's some scary shit.

I mean whatever you call it Light Skin, Bright Skin, Yellow Skin, Mexican Skin, Island Skin, Halfbreed Skin, and Anything else in between Skin... it's MY skin. And it fits me quite well.

"Shade doesn't matter, Heart makes the lover."

Realizations

Late Fall and the beginning of Winter have a strangely consistent way of bringing out a plethora of my emotions. Possibly because this time of year is a constant reminder that my life is progressing forward faster than I ever could have imagined since my birthday is approaching. Or possibly being single & laying in a cold bed night after night does it. Wait lemme stop... I'm sounding depressed & emo... that's not what I'm getting at.

Okay... it's more like I'm realizing that half the shit I thought I knew is crap. And that kinda leaves a fourth of the shit I do know half assed & incomplete cuz it was either backed or linked to that half of the stuff that is now crap. So I'm left with only a fourth of what I've accumulated over the last almost 23 years to be solid & credible. That ain't shit when it's broken down like that. I mean it could be worse but I'm greedy & occasionally arrogant.

Admitting to myself that I don't know shit, or far less than I thought I did, is more difficult than having to admit it to someone else. Fuck everyone else. Cuz like I said before I'm in this bed ALONE night after night. In a nutshell I've realized I can't run from myself. As many times as I've tried over the years, fooling myself into believing that I'm not, it's hit me that I'm not fooling anyone but my damn self. Sounds kinda obvious & "Duh bitch of course you can't run from you". Well maybe it's my Sag hard headed stubborn nature to overlook shit until I'm ready to see it or til I can't overlook it anymore. But I see it. I realize it. And more importantly, I think anyways, I OWN it.

I'm a control freak. Quite frankly I'm proud of myself, being a said control freak, that I can admit I don't know what, where, or which direction I'm trying to head in. For the first time in a long time I don't know how to get what I want cuz I don't really know what that ultimate WANT is. I'm great with directions & maps, all that. But only when I know where my destination is. And at this moment I don't know where or what that is.

Only thing I know for certain is that I want More. More of what? Guess that will be my next realization.

FUCK YOU Summer '09

Summer '09,
I Hate You
I swear on every thing that's holy. sacred or of any value to anyone
I fucking hate you

It wasn't enough for you to take Mike was it?
Cuz seeing the tears on my face when I got that news wasn't enough
Feeling my heart shatter when little Paris dumbed it down and reminded folks
That to her Our King of Pop was just simply Daddy: the Best father ever
Like the greedy bitch you are you just HAD to have Air McNair
And granted he may have been doin wrong
But still you were far from right
So fuck you for that too
And then to add insult to injury you had the muthafuckin nerve
You fucking take Baatin
Like hip hop wasn't strugglin enough

And even with you straight trippin and on that bullshit
Like a leaky irritable bitch on her rag
I kept looking and hoping that you'd close out
On a positive note, you know go out with a bang...

Bang! is what you gave me alright...
Bang! from the gun that killed my Tia
Bang! explodin the next bullet that Tio took
Bang! that had my baby cousin callin 911 to say his mami is dead and papi's the reason why

Summer '09 you're a vindictive evil cunt
And you just had to make this shit personal
You couldn't leave well enough alone
Makin my baby brother be the one to call and speak those disgusting words
"Tia Magaly is dead"
Cuz my mami was too broken up from losing her baby sis
To tell me herself
You sniveling triflin piece of shit

FUCK YOU for taking it there
FUCK YOU for hurting MY family
FUCK YOU for making MY family headline news
FUCK YOU for taking MY Tia

MY family isn't suppose to go through this kinda shit
We shoudn't be hurt like this, not us
She was only 33, for reals and no offense
But you couldn't go fuckin snatch up someone out the old folks home?
Word, you funky Bitch? Fuck You

So now my baby cousins are without mami and papi
The eldest of the 3 will forever be stuck with the memory
Of callin 5-0 on his papi for shooting his mami
Seeing them both laid out in their own blood
How fucking dare you


So allow me to make this quite clear
I'm done with you
From here on out
You steer way the fuck clear of me and mine
And on behalf of my family and everyone else that you've hurt
FUCK YOU Summer '09

Light Skin Bright Skin

Light Bright, Damn near White
The complexity of my "bright" complexion
Has always been rather vexing
And the topic of a discussion that I've had more than once


Is it really my fault that this mixed melanin ended up being one of the lighter shades on the Black skin spectrum?
Does that make me "less Black" than the sistas closer to the Midnight hue?
Wait! Wait it's that I couldn't possibly understand the struggle the way the ebony folks do.
Billie Holiday psssh What could she really know bout Strange Fruit
Cuz let's not forget... she was light skin too
"Darker the Berry, Sweeter the juice" is what Pac said
And India Arie was in love with his Brown skin, not his yellow skin
So where in the hell does that leave me?
Besides not having my own song
Being light skin is low key frowned on in the Black community
It's the unnecessary necessary evil
And contrary to what most have heard
This light skin, bright skin ain't always in
At least not til a nigga gets concerned over his next of kin
Cuz recently I was told light skin is the solution for the Brother
Who wants caramel kids but not with a White mother

Words and taunts like "high yellow porch monkey girl" following me from my childhood
Words that left me feeling like
The bastard baby of the slave
Masta took a special liking to
The hatred experienced from my more antioxidant-rich chocolate peers
Left me feeling this urge to prove that I too could call myself Black
Becoming a slave to tan in a can and countless hours in the sun
Enduring painful sunburns and peeling
The words "Let's see if we can make Light Bright bruise" echoing in my mind
So the Summer sun became my best friend
And no matter how hot you'd never find me in the shade
Growing up to despise Winter
Knowing all my time spent getting darker was about to fade

And just when I thought I had shaken this complex issue as a whole
I'm reminded again at 18
In a club and dude is tryin to holla
Like "Yo Light Bright!" like it's my name (and I'm suppose to know)
And upon gettin no response "Stuck up light skin Bitch" is what he mutters
Only to approach my opposite minutes later
He's more like "What's good my Beautiful Ebony Dream"
I see her respond with a smile that says her panties are bout to melt like butter
I'm standing there thinking what's wrong with this scene?
Guess cuz I'm light skin that disqualifies me from being a Black queen

Spoken or not this light skin bright skin almost white skin
This "damn girl you glow in the dark" skin is suppose to be my shame
So I refuse to answer to Light Bright as if it's my name
Okay wait, hold up I take that back
I'll respond to Light Bright if they'll answer to Darkie
Or better yet how bout Spook?
I mean no need to be offended
I'm just sayin what was said in reverse
Nothing more, Nothing much worse