Wait for it... Wait for it....

Sex before marriage, we were all taught not to do it, and most of us rebelled. Sex sex sex. It's like the most important thing next to food, water, and alcohol. Well, really it's not. This is just the distorted picture that is painted for most youths and the picture only becomes bigger as we get older. But today, I had decided to tear down the immoral mural displayed in my mind. I no longer want to sex before I'm married. I mean, in reality, where has it gotten me. Nowhere but down the road of a struggling, single mother with more miles on me than necessary (which is none). I'm tired of letting men have joy rides with me and leaving the tank empty. Hell, I still have to make it home to tend to my child that was made in that back seat. My exhaust is exhausted. Rotating my tires and changing my oil isn't getting it. I have to park it.

I have been thinking about this for some time and I have made up my mind. I used to fear that no man would want to court me under these conditions, but I no longer let fear run me. Hell, most of the men who won't stay around without sex won't stay around with it. It's a hard pill to sallow, but with a big glass of acceptance, I managed. I recall telling friends about my decision and they were not feeling it (which is totally ok). I have prepared myself for this response from most people, male and female. "What if you wait until you are married to have sex with the man and then it ain't even good?" Wow. How many times have I heard this? My response is marriage is soooo much more than sex. Sex is just one of the physical aspects, which is not, or should not be, in the top three of importance. Yes yes yes, sex is very important, but if a relationship is based solely on this factor then we are screwing ourselves. And let me point out that most everyone has had bad sex. Not only have we had bad sex, we have had "friends" put in place for sex and the sex wasn't even that good. Why? Because we are looking for something greater than an erection followed by ejaculation. Though true, most don't realize or acknowledge this. But now I have done both, and I have comfortably accepted abstinence. No sex in the champagne room.

Holding on with Dear Life

The situation is dead
Heart is only beating due to the life support it's connected to
You decided to pull the plug
No sense in dragging out the loss of a love one
Reality rings in my ear
Flat line
Draw the curtain back
The time for visitors has passed
I try to find comfort in this time of mourning
But all that's discovered is me trying to resuscitate it
I've never been good at accepting death.

But Down the Weapon

For some time now I've been battling with a deadly disease, a killer tongue. I have reached the point in my life where I can make a wise crack out of any comment thrown in my direction. I am sarcastic, rude, slick, and quick. Quite frankly, I am excellent at talking shit. It's first nature for me, almost like my native tongue. I watched my parents use this technique of communication and I picked it up, practiced it, and mastered it. They say each generation should be better than the last and I made this no exception. When I tell most people that I want to stop with all the slick comments they say, "Why, that's who you are." Damn. I don't want to be that person. With our mouths we speak from our hearts. Why is mine filled with such filth? Such death? When I tell others that I want to change because I don't know where to draw the line between harmless and harmful many agree. "Yeah Sharree, because you be damn near offending people," is the comment that rings in my head. Why do I joke to the point where it's no longer a joke, but an offense made against my love ones? They say all jokes have truth to them and that itself is true. I am truly being rude and unloving to the ones I claim to love. My tongue is a murderous weapon aiming to beat down and kill the spirits of my people. I do believe that I am not the only one with this deadly disease of a killer tongue, but it is a growing problem within the black community much like high blood pressure and diabetes. As I take time to examine the conversations of many of my peers it seems like a lot of people let negative comments spill out their mouths like waste fields. I coldest part about this observation is that most don't even notice, or even worse, they like it. Talking shit is all fun and games to the naive mind. But what is really happening is that it's a serious problem that we find it humorous and acceptable to speak negative things to one another and no one ever takes the time to give their brothers and sisters praise. I know that today I am praying for change. I want to give life to people's hopes, dreams, and spirits. I want to put down the murder weapon and try to resuscitate life into the dying minds of our people and teach the other fools who our slaying our people. Sticks and stones may hurt my bone, but our words are killing us.

Retail Oppressed

I hold a BA in Business Management with a graduating GPA of 3.6… honors. I currently work as a cashier at a nationwide retail company. Never have I felt so much like a guilty prisoner. Everybody who holds any ounce of authority in this store feels the need to exercise it at any chance given. I am a grown woman, holding down a household and car note along with many other responsibilities, and yet they treat me as if I was a child. Hell, I have my own child to raise. Every day I go to work I am told where to sign on, where to stand, when to break, how to greet, who to call, and how to treat the customers. I feel like a dog on a short leash; heel, sit, stay, bark, roll over… good girl. Except, there is no “good girl” ever given.  No “good girl”, but they will be sure to broadcast every thing I do that is not in compliance to their own, personal desires. I do my job, and I do it well (I think I’ve stated this in previous writings). I don’t need anyone to tell me which foot to step with first, but apparently I do because they never fail to do so. And I have no problem with the owners wanting their business to ran to the best of its ability, but I do have a problem when I am hounded and scolded by management that fails to lead by example. They say customers first to me, but they take fifteen minutes to return a page. They say wok as a team, but I rarely see the people in authoritative positions get down with “us common folk” to make a rough situation run more smoothly. You know what they tell us? Work harder, lines are backing up. But then again, this is my fault. I am the one who applied for to be a cashier when I know that I am better than this. And I am not knocking any cashier or sales associate of any kind. But I, Sharree, am above being treated as if am less than. I try to stay humble and respect those who are over me. But I refuse to shuck or jive to stroke anybody’s already inflated ego. At this point, I am uncomfortable and this is the best feeling to have. With comfort there is contentment and here I have neither one. So, each day I have a goal and that is to make it through with gratitude for what God has given me, and determination to go get what else He has for me. While I am being weighed down by this retail oppression, endurance sustains me, and the end result will be a stronger me.

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Treat Church Like Your Job

My mind has always searched for the answer on why do so many people look at church as a unnecessary pastime activity. People go when they want to and use simple excuses like being tired or spending the day at the park or honestly not feeling like it for reasons not to. I am talking about people who claim to Christian and believe and love Jesus Christ. Yes, I do understand if you are extremely tired because you dealt with a fussy baby all night or you don’t feel well. How does God look at us when we use these excuses not to gather in His congregation? I mean, each and every day, for five days straight, we wake up early in the morning to punch a clock. We go to work for eight hours, or at least four, serving for a man’s company, but we can’t get up (for morning or afternoon) church service. Wasn’t it God who blessed us with the job? Why can’t we come into His gates with thanksgiving? If we partied too hard the night before we still drag ourselves into work for that little paycheck we get every two weeks, but for God we can’t call it an early night. Is congregating with your fellow brothers and sisters and learning good, solid doctrine  not important for the soul to live in accordance with God?  I guess the real question is, do we i even care about being in accordance with God? Today, we are guilty of being caught up in worldly issues and not making Jesus the Lord of our lives. Getting paid a few dollars an hour is more of a priority than pleasing God and keeping ourselves from eternal death. We need to at a look at ourselves and reevaluate our lives. Examine how we live verses how we ought to live. I just hate thinking about all the souls that will die and are dying because we treat church and God’s work like a unnecessary pastime activity.

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Fear Vs. Faith

The biggest fears about being at a turning point is not only are you turning in the right direction, but you so badly hope that you don’t crash in mid curve. Now is the time for me to make a change. I can no longer stay stagnant. Now I must finally start walking all that talk I’ve been talking. And when I say walking, I mean running.  There are things, goals, that I want to accomplish; indefinite goals. Now is the time for me to approach one of them at full speed.
I recently attended an informational to go back to school and so that I can obtain my teaching credentials. The program seems to be a very good program, but it seems just as intense: Night and Saturday classes, internship, assessments, teacher/student training, observations, not to mention… “mo money mo money mo money”. The program actually seems to be a really manageable set- up for the average student. But too bad I’m not the average student. I’m a single mother working two jobs and handling a household. When will I have time to work, go to school, train side- by- side with a full- time credentialed teacher for eight weeks, and be a mother? How will I have enough income to maintain my adult responsibilities and do all these things for school? Within an hour and a half I felt the tension building. It will be a challenge, but I am a survivor. I wouldn’t necessarily call my self a go getter, but when it needs to be gotten, please know that I’m on my way. So during these times I must remember not to lean unto my own understanding, but in all things acknowledge God. Honestly, this is a hard task but I must pray constantly because at the end of the day, I don’t know anything, and I would run myself ragged trying to figure it out. Also, we often have to sacrifice and I would rather sacrifice for a year and a half than for the rest of my life. I must go after the desires of my heart and pray that God will guide my path. This is a lot to process, but the biggest test is, will I trust God? Truth be told, my trust in Him is the only way I will succeed for I am merely man, and every good thing I have is a gift from Him. I pray that not only once I get my credential will I be able to teach, but also as I go through the process of life people can learn from me. I am an example that life isn’t always easy, but with God we can do all things. I am and will continue to be a living testimony. So as I have stated earlier, I am a learner trying to teach and a teacher trying to learn. Wish my luck… no, no, no pray that God blesses me in my endeavor.

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In the Center of Self

Over the past few days I have actually come to the realization that I am very self- centered. In almost everything… no no, in everything I do I want to be recognized. I feel the need to have someone tell me, “that a girl” or “very good” or “I like it” or of course the infamous, “YOU GO GIRL!”. As I created this blog and after having all of one post I found myself telling the world to read it. Like it’s all I wanted people to do. “Hey girl… long time no hear from. Check out this blog I started.” After about telling this to a few hand full of people  I thought to myself, “Wow. You are self- centered”. I wouldn’t ever be satisfied with simply discovering (accepting) this fact about me. I had to dig deeper. I’ve come to the conclusion that yes I am self- centered, but this is merely a side effect of insecurity. I have to constant hear how good I am as if I don’t believe it. But of course I believe it because everything about my is great. Right? Wrong; I just want everything about me to be great. Because the bad memories about pops, and brother dissing me, and cousins manipulating me, and son’s father disappearing causes a feeling that I’m less than. So I must make up for these unfortunate mishaps that happened to me and not by me. Even so, I must be great and if not great as least really good because something has to make up for all the bad that has occurred.
And on this night I sat in a store meeting hearing all the people get recognized for excellent work and for the last two years I have yet to hear my name called. Before tonight I would be confused and angry and swear it was a conspiracy. I work hard, harder than half of the names they call. I am efficient and effective and not to mention friendly with customers. I go out of my way to make sure the customers are happy. If I don’t know, I go find out or we may look together. Whatever the case is I make sure that I do what I can to satisfy. So you can understand the fustration. But tonight right now I accept all recognition. I recognize that that is my job and my pay check is my recognition. I recognize that the issue goes deeper than my place of employment. It lies within me, better yet, it stands tall, roaring like a lion. And I also recognize that the self centered attitude I posses must be put to death. In order to do that I must pump life into my esteem. So from this day forward I will be humble and quietly build myself up. While looking for recognition I was the one to recognize. Ironic.

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Strong, Black Woman

Today I read a post from young, black female that struck a cord in me. She was simply stating that while in the middle of a discussion she was having with someone they up and slammed the door in her face in the middle of her speaking. Now, I do not know all the details of the situation taking place, only what she put out, and I was forced to draw my own conclusion. I told her that it was rude of him to slam the door in her face, but us as women need to learn to be quiet. This did not sit well with her. She told me that the other person’s actions was an indication that she needed to GO OFF!!!! I was greatly disturbed. This is the usual reaction of women, especially black women. We always need to speak our minds, stand our grounds, prove our points. We feel that we have to be this strong being, not letting a man take advantage of, manipulate, or control us. But this is not the right approach. This is exactly why we get doors slammed in our faces and felt with an attitude. We should be able to calm ourselves down, think about what we are saying, and take an effective approach. This is the only way we will truly control the situation. Control isn’t who has the biggest bark because its apparent that he will just shut it out. More importantly this is a easy way to get the title bitch. Control is about who is the most effective in the situation. She told me that I would have reacted the same way, but in reality I have tried the exact opposite and was very successful. Ranting and raving is the typical, predictable response. He’s used to that and used to closing the door on it. But what about when we just shut the hell up. Then what? Most don’t know because most don’t do it. I bet he will desperately urge you to tell him what’s wrong, go within his own mind to find the answer, and give suggestions on how to correct it. This is how it should be. He’s a big boy let him put forth effort in correcting his mistakes. But no, we always have to fight because we cannot have him thinking his actions will be tolerated. But truthfully, we just feel we have to have the last word. And more than likely he didn’t here you anyways. So why not shut up? I’m not a phycologist of any sort. I am just another young, strong black woman ready to see us ladies out down our fists and stop fighting a battle that’s already loss.

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What's Missing

As I go through this change in my life, a turning point around corners I’ve never seen before, I sit and think about how much I miss you. They say it’s normal that I’m missing you, but it almost doesn’t make sense. There was a relief that took place inside of me (after the breakdown) when you told me you didn’t want to be with me, nor my friend, not even around me. It was as if I was contaminating your world. And yet I felt my chest loosen. I’m self- conscious enough on my own without having to wonder if I’m offending you, making you feel uncomfortable, turning you off. It was like all the effort I had put forth thus far to be a better person was all a facade. It wasn’t real. I was merely a sarcastic, judgemental asshole. This is how I felt I was being perceived. Wow. So what exactly am I missing? Could it possibly the anticipation to that good morning text or the phone call that took place just to see how my day went? Could it be the way you embraced me and pulled me close as if my presence comforted you? It’s probably the way you respected me now matter how bad the situation was. The way my smile made you smile which caused me to smile harder. I’m sure the way you made me feel important and as if I mattered when I couldn’t find that in other places has something to do with it. I miss the hope you gave me that good men still exist outside my brothers and cousins. Not only do they exist but they are not all taken. I miss the pleasure of feeling wanted. The daydreams that actually included a face and name instead of “somebody”. I miss the laughs, the hugs, the kisses. I miss the good times with you.  

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Can I be Me?

Why is it that every time I say I’m going to grow out my hair and where it natural there are always people who discourage me to do so? Why are weaves and entensions more acceptable than what God blessed me with? If not a weave I must at least where put a chemical on my hair to make it lay down. But if it doesn’t lay down by itself wouldn’t that imply that it wasn’t meant to lay down? Just because my hair doen’t curl, but rather it kinks should I be ashamed? Am I not as pretty being naturally who I am? Do I care less of myself if I don’t want to sit a let a man- made product transform what was God- given? I love who I am and what people say does not move me, but it boggles my mind when people desperately tell me not to grow out my perm. It’s almost like telling me that I am not good enough simply being who I am. But rather I must always try to add to myself. If women where to sit back and think about all the artifical things we add to ourselves we should be a little distrurbed. We add hair, eye lashes, nails, height, breast, butts, even color (eyes, hair, skin tone). But why are we so desperate to enhance the way we look? Why are we not more concerned with our attitudes, morals, motives, knowledge, talents, history, or spiritual lives? Beauty’s only skin deep and that’s as far as most care to look.

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What's it all about

I have had a lot of things on my mind and they have been weighing on my brian for some time now. Things that make my blood boil, my heart race, my wheels trun, and put fire under my butt. These things cannot be ingnored any longer. At least, not by me. I must acknowledge these things: thoughts, actions, beliefs, standards and speak on them or my head is likely to explode. My name is Sharree. Here I will go by Dyna, which means: power, to be able to. I feel that this name fits who I am. I am a writer and within my words I do hold power. Power to make you think, make laugh, make you cry, make you aroused, confused, or outraged. Whatever the outcome is, my words have the power to input existence into your mind. My goal is to feed you life. Life through my words and I pray that God guides each key pressed so that My purpose is served. If you chose to read I thank you now for this is put here for you. No, I am not a profound writer, nor politican, nor preacher, nor anything else with “high importance”. I am simply a single mother on the verge of 25. I am a hard working woman using everything in me to raise up a small boy in a world where he is expected to fail. I am a sinner trying to be a saint, and a saint trying not to sin. I am a teacher trying to learn and a learner trying to teach. I am who I am and always striving to be even better. So please join me on this journey called life and experience power in the written form.