Theorems....on THAT level (Part II)

Honest Isn’t the Best Policy…it’s the only policy!

Have you ever started a statement with ‘honestly…’ If so…STOP! You are about to lie! Why would you even imply that you are dishonest? Remember the old saying:

…it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it

I’d like to take a look at ‘its not what you say’…Well, what you ‘had not’ said was that you were untruthful…at some point…in life… It also ‘implies’ that you don’t believe your friend wants the truth, even though they asked for your honest opinion. You just wanted to be sure…right? Yeah, unh hunh…

Believe it or not, the thoughts and ideas that people don’t speak about can impact their entire statements overall message. While this isn’t an ‘aha’ moment in a philosophical school of thought, its announcement needs to be reignited. It’s cliché-ness (yes, I made that up) has overrun the true wisdom behind it.

Advancing to my interpretation of ‘it’s how you say it’ ... hopefully you haven’t told Sista-girl the truth about those too small pants…yet.

If it’s how you say it, then how do you say it?

Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you to find a ‘nice’ way to tell your friend she’s fat. I ‘want’ you to tell her she’s fat. Why? Because it’s the truth! The truth will set you…and her bulges…free. Keep in mind this theorem is a bit longer than others. It’s going to take a little more convincing than usual…right? Right.

So…back to your friend, the need to be honest, and using the f word. Lets look at your friend first. She’s overweight, restricting the circulation in her waist, and asking for your ‘honest’ opinion on her apparel choice….

How do you say it…honestly?

Humor always works if one person laughs, even if that person is you. Laughter has a way of easing tension when you have to tell a hard truth. Most psychiatrists and psychologist will tell you this defense mechanism is used to divert the intent of the message. I say, so what! You’re telling her something that is uncomfortable for you to say, so what’s wrong with a little mental soothing? Not a thing! This is my proposal…

Snicker and say ‘suck your fat in, if you can’t, I think you should wear these (while offering her another choice of pant)…I like them better anyway…

Your friend is not going to be hurt…why? Because she knows she’s fat. She wakes up every morning in her body. You are only validating her thoughts. The same thoughts she had when she tried to zip her pants. It may seem cold when written but with ‘honesty’ in your voice, she’ll know you aren’t being malicious.

If she is truly your friend, not only would you tell her she’s fat, you’d care about her health and offer your assistance. Be it a walk…workout…together…or even becoming educated on the consequences of being overweight. Friends care enough about each other to remain truthful and open, right?

By saying what needs to be said, the way it should be said will place value in your opinions. Your being straight forward AND helpful to your friend will create a bond that is truthful and wholesome.

So, slap a fat friend on the ass and tell them if they passed the jiggle test…if it doesn’t jiggle a little, it’s too small or they are too fat…

Theorem: Say exactly what needs to be said, it’s better that way…

Introduction to the Theorems...on THAT level

Introduction to the Theorems

The musings of a distorted mind are beyond fascinating. It takes a sincere, open individual to appreciate its’ knowledge. It takes an individual in tune with their mental and physical capacities to incorporate these theorems into their lives. There is a difference between these two types of people…

The sincere, open person will read the theorems, validate its point for the sake of it being someone’s view and place it on a shelf for weekly dusting…wasting away. The person in tune with themselves and know their truths, are those that will research and practice the theorems, tweak and apply them to their lives. They will also recommend them to friends. These are the people I want to read ‘Theorems’.

Because of the recommendation, the friends are bound to have a discussion. Dissecting each piece and finding out more about themselves in the process. During the debate, which I am sure it will turn into, each side will want to be right. Being right involves validation of fact. ‘Theorems’ may not be that ‘fact’, but I’m sure it will initiate the dialogue that will find the ‘fact’. That’s my sole purpose.

So grab a fat friend for a book buddy and check your conventional way of thinking at the gate!

Stop Lying!

Have you ever thought it best not to say anything if it were negative? Has someone ever asked you for your ‘honest’ opinion and you still lied?

Yes…telling your girl her pants were fine when you saw how the zipper refused to stay…zipped, is a lie. So what she’s a little overweight! Why would you allow her to walk around exposed and ultimately embarrassed? To protect her feelings? Lets be real…you were protecting your feelings…inadequate feelings of confirming your friend’s struggle with her weight. But…you lied. Denying powerful emotions (energy…in motion--Tyra rocks!) to guide the situation where it needs to go.

Look at it like this…Sista-girl knows she’s thick but first impressions are sometimes the only impressions.

Theorem: Think about it…and stop lying!

SHE DANCES LIKE LOVE (poem)

SHE DANCES LIKE LOVE

I watched you sway

I watched you close your eyes…and dream

dreams full of hearts and love and love and…

I watched him walk away…defeated

mistreating this obvious show

that was truly for his eyes and I watched more…

waiting....wondering why you continued to dance like…love
when he no longer watches but continues to walk away...

It's that persistence...

It's that walk by faith mentality and hope

it's dope and at times…painful

but girl you danced…you danced harder...
and
you
sweat more and…

the desire grew in your eyes as you opened them to realize…he'd left

left you…left your efforts…left the love you laid on the floor

you turned once more
and a smile caught your eye…

then your dance began again.....

The House Of Mistakes: A Novel

Prologue

The house was old with memories. It smelled of stale bread baked with love. As I walked through its corridors, I saw flashes of grandmother staring me down.

“Chile, didn’t I tell you girls don’t wear pants.”

“But grandma, girls do wear pants now-a-days.”

“Well, not in this here house they don’t. Gone an’ put on that nice skirt I bought you from Sears last week.”

As I walked to the closet that use to house coats, I thought of all the dinner parties and family meetings held in grandma’s home. When I opened the door, I couldn’t understand why I had half expected some of her things to still be hanging there.

“Damn,” I whispered. “Grandma been gone for a while now... I’m going crazy.”

I closed the closet and leaned against the door. My mind wandered to the time I was sent to live with her because my mother couldn’t handle me. It was so hard for her. I was a frustrated teen who didn’t understand that what I was going through was normal. Guilt started to consume me as I recalled the times I’d screamed and cursed her out, for no good reason.

“You ain’t grown Michelle!”

“I ain’t trying to hear what you saying! You just want me to live a lonely life like you! I ain’t having it!”

I was a walking time bomb then. My momma died clutching her chest. A heart attack, they say, but I know it was because of me. She died of a broken heart... I’d disappointed her so much.

Walking up the creaking, wooden stairs, I thought of all the fun I had sliding down the banister as a child. My dad would scream at me; telling me that I was going to hurt myself one day. He didn’t know it at the time, but he had sealed the deal on my future.

“Girl, get your ass of that damn banister before you break your leg or something. You gone get one of them bony ass ankles caught, I tell ya.”

I heard his voice each step I took.

Reaching the top, I bypassed my uncle’s old room. He died in his bed, of cancer, and the room was never reopened. I knew it would be full of his things, mainly his memories, and I wasn’t ready to face that... yet. He had stolen my innocence. Placed his penis in my hands at the tender age of 8 and by the time I was 12, he was full fledge fucking me. Was it so wrong if I enjoyed it? It’s been over ten years and I still feel him touching me when I'm asleep.

Opening the door farthest from the steps, I removed cobwebs that threatened to grant my entrance.

“This will have to do,” I mouthed, looking around the room.

It was where grandma did her sewing. It still had fabric remnants and a few tables scattered throughout. I pulled a chair from the corner and sat it in the middle of the floor. I wanted to take in its totality at once. I grabbed a thin piece of fabric and placed the homemade tourniquet around my forearm then took a deep breath. I checked the syringe for air bubbles before inserting it. As the needle punctured my skin, the memories and voices slowly faded away...temporarily.

Genesis is.....(poem)

I was on my page on shelfari.com (it's on my blogroll) and realized that the reason I had never completed the 'about me' section because I just couldn't......

I know that people find talking about themselves easy, but I don't. Nor do I find it fun. Surprising hunh? Shouldn't be.

I've told many people about things I like and don't like, or what I would or wouldn't do...and I know you're asking 'well those things are about you, right' but, in essence, it's not. Not for me anyway....

Take a look...I created this in my little 'about me' section. Sitting for 5 minutes, staring at a blank template....then words began to cross the screen.....

I am the beginning....

A few someones I've birthed
baby fresh whimpers
new angelical vessels....His vessels
glory they be!

I am the beginning....

the spark before flame
the idea preceding action
the conflict of males
yet the necessity of life
procreation--that is

I am the harborer of secrets
my children, and sista-friends, and cousins tell
I am the healer of scrapes and bumps and heartbreaks and bruised egos
I am the devoted daughter of a King and Queen
--anxiously awaiting my time on the throne yet will mourn it's arrival, simultaneously.....

I am the beginning, and conversely the ending, of everything

Five minutes later, I had partially defined myself and could have gone on but....well, it just stopped

.....so I assumed it was over.


So this blog today, is a little lesson....about me

Ask me specific questions.....if you ask me to tell you about myself and don't receive a response, check out some of my web pages...you'd know 'something' about me...if you read them....then we'll have the makings of a good conversation

If you call me and I don't answer....for days...I'm probably feel 'me' out at that moment--it may not be a good day and I may hate the world at that time...so you wouldn't want to talk to me anyway....I'm kinda saving you some grief too

I don't really care what people say but I watch what they do....that's how I determine their character and their position in my life

That's just a little Saturday knowledge on me. The jets and mess are practicing for the air show and it's driving my baby crazy...."scared of airplaaaanes," he cries. So mothering calls, I have to comfort him. Have a nice, long weekend! REALLY relax for a change.

Stay peace

Genesis

Baseball Season In The Hood

This blog was inspired by The Bizarre JC Martin ----) Click here for her blog "Summertime Fun"

Life Lessons Realized

Baseball season meant the WORLD to me! My dad would bring out the old cleats; dusting and polishing them off like we did the mantle full of trophies he'd won playing the sport. Lacing them up carefully to make sure they still 'fit'. I don't remember exactly what he would say, but it was always funny. Although his serious, quiet statuesque demeanor would make you believe otherwise, he was really a gentle giant; until crossed.

After the cleats were finished, he'd send me or my brother to get his bat. I use to loathe searching for that bat. The search itself was fine but carrying it to him was my issue. I'd always complain about how 'ghetto' he was because he had drilled a hole into the handle of the bat, filled it with water and corked it. My thoughts were, 'we are always nigga-riggin' sh**'. None the less, when I found the bat, he'd begin his annual ritual of cleansing it too.

The cleats, the bat, and we are half way there. This is when I would start to get excited. The only thing left was to launder his uniform. Yes, the uniform that made my dad look like a 'real' athlete! I loved the way my father's smile warmed my heart while in his uniform. This seemed like the only time he smiled so wide and so full of excitement. I had grown to love seeing him that gleeful. My mom would reset some of the buttons, around his ever-growing belly, and make sure he had his calf-high socks to hide the fact that he had actually gained a few inches in height as well. Whomever said people shrink as they get older was a liar, or it could have been the socks had shrunk.....

Mommy would make sure we had a cooler for the adults and a cooler for the kids. No sense in buying pop and chips from the vendor at Thurgood Marshall when we could just bring our own, right? Right....

I watched my father run around the bases until one year he utilized a sub. My daddy would hit the ball and the sub, a guy quite a few years younger, would run the bases because his knees had gotten bad. It bothered me so much not to see MY daddy running those bases. Those runs gave me all the reason in the world to give my daddy another hug, another kiss. Those runs are what had my mother, who was a home maker, scrubbing his uniforms after each game. Without those runs, what was the point?

It wasn't until years later that I understood the point...

It wasn't about cleats. It wasn't about water-filled bats, uniforms, and coolers. It was about fellowshipping; camaraderie and mixing it with good ole fun. It was about making lasting friendships and enjoying family time. My childhood experiences there prepared me to understand that things change and we need to change with them. To understand that though the method changes, you can still attain desirable outcomes. The basic things we need when life deals us bad hands. The things people don't seem to have time for or can understand these days.

From the age of six until 16, I spent the majority of my time on baseball diamonds, in most of the cities in Ohio. In what I thought was following my dad, the baseball star, was really teaching me things that I wouldn't understand until now.

Last week, my husband announced that he would be joining a baseball team this season and I almost cried...


The baseball field wasn't the only place I learned lessons......more to come

Stay peace

genesis

CRY, OH LORD, OUR COUNTRY (poem)

CRY, OH LORD, OUR COUNTRY

I stand with iron fist
pumping in air

CRY, OH LORD, OUR COUNTRY

tears of despair
trickle down cheeks of innocent children

WHAT ABOUT THEM?

what about the hunger of their minds,
attempting to understand?
man
almost blind and guilty by
being born
man

CRY, OH LORD, OUR COUNTRY

immune to nothing
they stand with shallow breaths
confused and misguided
or unguided
as we
man
strive and stride
without them

WHAT ABOUT THEM?

CRY, OH LORD, OUR COUNTRY

place guns in children’s hands
so they can defend themselves

WHY NOT?

we are so preoccupied with those
we think are spying on us
lying on us
mistrusting ourselves
digging our own
sleeper holes

WHAT ABOUT THEM?

selfishness taking over the wheel
leaving tire tracks on the children's back

CRY, OH LORD, OUR COUNTRY

they fight a losing battle
from the first wail they produce
from their mother's womb

crying, wailing, crying

hungering and thirsting
for the path
which WE have not laid

CRY

OH LORD

OUR COUNTRY

for the children will not
be
saved


©3.2.07 Genesis

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