Amanda

Weekend Wrap Up

Due to Twitter and Facebook, I am annoyed with what I have been seeing. I decided to go on an Instagram break, which has been happening since November but I should be deleting that soon but I’ll come back in February and then decide after. My weekend consisted of laundry, applying for jobs, and rest. Well needed. I purchased a frame to hang my art work in, check that out on IG, in February.

But to start my rant,

First, the shit written article about Black Girl Magic and publish on ELLE online. Next time that journalist decides to write a piece discussing her views on her own black girl magic and mental health issues, she should put in a disclaimer. Her views are valid because their her own. HOWEVER, you do not stand for every black woman. Black Girl Magic isn’t a slogan made to overly empower the idea of the “strong black woman”, but it was meant to help our girls understand that in the world we live in, you are special, you have magic. When you think you can’t, you will, there are others that you will look too that have made it because they have magic too. We’re magical! However, this is my view on it. Yours may be different, that’s my disclaimer.

My second rant goes to the journalist, whom once again, must utilize her disclaimer rights about Monique Pressley. See here’s the thing, you will not discredit her for being a defense attorney. She isn’t here to defend the victims, and by all means, her job is to utilize the justice system to ensure the rights of her client! I am glad that the victims are free now. They were able to let go of such pain, but I will not let this journalist discredit Monique Pressley. Nah bruh, we don’t know the trials and tribulations she personally has gone through to gain her success before COSBY. He’s his own individual. Now about the rape culture, “we”, as in many Tyler Perry Films, Shonda Rhimes episodes, “us”, in our communities, as BLACKS, think it is TABOO to discuss rape when it happens in our homes, but I’ll wait. Talk up when that shit happens. Share your story. I have read some stories and they weren’t easy ones to digest but they have helped other women.

Lastly, this one is personal. I hate my employer. Well not the agency but the administration that I am operating under. Bad enough that I am in a highly stressful position, but there’s nothing worst than Drama. Un-needed, unnecessary, too fcuking old for this shit, DRAMA. The clients give us enough DRAMA, why personally give more. I am in a place in my life where I seek stability. My career isn’t as stable as I would have hoped for it to be at this age but I need a stable place to grow while I complete my degree. But this isn’t working for me. I am now having to start the applying process again. I applied for a position last night and interviewed today, maybe the DRAMA is pushing me where I need to be.

Anything interested over the weekend?

About last Friday….

Cliché to do the new year / new me post bullshit but there’s no new me. I’m just adding to the manuscript.

It’s almost a week into the new year and beside drinking water like I said I would, I had no problems recently saying how I feel to someone whom maybe I shouldn’t even had given attention to. It felt good though.

Beside my sadden Sunday, I actually enjoy sitting alone at happy hour. It’s better than purchasing my own bottle and drinking my sorrows away, that I don’t believe in, happy hour allows you to drink what you can afford. But I enjoy sitting at the bar reading through archives of my favorite bloggers. Some of you are connecting with me. It’s almost spiritual. It’s also giving me an opportunity to plan out my move, hopefully by the beginning of next year. New city, new “me” (maybe).

I didn’t want to be alone for New Year’s, well since I have never really brought it in by myself anyway, I jumped up and brought it in with my two amazing long time friends at church. Church is always good. What happened after church, well, I didn’t do anything strange for some change. I came in at a reasonable hour. Slightly inebriated. But I was good. And I looked good.

I praise myself about my 43 lbs. I need to tighten up my stomach but I look good. Yes, let me toot my own horn, (toot toot).

It’s been almost a week… What’s “new” ?

Sunday

It’s 7:31 pm Sunday night, I’ve been waiting a whole hour to be seated at the bar since the ratchets decided to have a big ass brawl at the local Friday’s.

Came across a new blogger and immediately connected. Just to sum up what I have read, she told an old lover that she was lonely.

I’m lonely. And I’ve known this for some time now. My parents are literally 10 blocks away from me, my sister is still there too, I live with my cousin, I speak to my best friends often, but I can’t shake this shit.

I’m lonely with love. I wrote him a letter and sent it in a card, told him that what I am going through is Rehab. Currently I am trying to learn to shed the love that I have for this man daily. It’s really hard to do when someone has been apart of your world consistently. What makes it so much harder is that I didn’t really know how much I truly loved this guy until our intimacy needed to end.

I fought with myself for months trying to find a way to still have him selfishly. “Being friends” after falling in love. Shit makes no sense. How do I separate the idea that he’ll belong to anyone else but me. Nah, fuck this. I just can’t speak to him until I am okay.

But what’s so scary is that, I really don’t think I’ll ever be okay. This love is a different kind of love. Break ups are hard for me but nothing like this one. Usually I’ll be good after a month or over of separation. Not to start dating again, but my functioning would be okay. Not this time. I fall apart when I wake up, when I leave work, when I’m walking to my car, when I’m in the shower, when I go to bed, and even in my damn sleep.

I guess when you love someone who doesn’t hurt you, it is harder to let them go. That’s the part that hurts the most. Coming to grips and reality that I’m in this boat again. Having to communicate with other men when I am not interested, but only because I am not alone.

But I’m trying. Taking this as a teaching moment.