Two Candles Down, Many More to Blow-Happy Birthday New Jack

October 27th, 2009 was the 2nd birthday of "The New Jack"

I'll admit, in two years I haven't gotten this blog nearly anywhere to the level that I've wanted it to reach. But though I may not have the readership and exposure I seek, I still gained.

I've truly gained a place to lay out all my feelings and all my experiences in the last two years. From jail to freedom, from being coupled up to single-hood and everything in between. My thoughts are deeper, and I still have a lot more growing to do but regardless of which, I've grown. From a 21 year old who just came out of college with a multitude of instant expectations to a 23 year old who finally understands that love is all that truly matters in this world.

In the last two years, I've had few solid plans. I used to believe you just do, and as long as you do you should just receive; but, I'm older now and a bit wiser. I know a couple things now about work ethic..about love...about trust...about pain...about how to rebound.

The thing that I'm proud of most is that this blog has given me the opportunity to rebound.Two years ago, this same person let the issues of her world destroy her. Now this person may get weakened by it, but always knows in the back of her mind there's a way to rebound.

Two years...

Two candles down...many more to blow...

Teyana Taylor Update: Dope Lips

I'm not a fan of Teyana Taylor, but I am obsessed with makeup.

I'm pretty certain I'll be testing out her new line to come of lip glosses, "Dope Lips"

3Oh!3 Update: Starstrukk

Featuring Katy Perry

New Jack Update: Stalker Tactics

There has to obviously be something I'm missing...some correlation between the two that I just don't see...

These days my family is insistent upon things I don't see and apparently that I'm doing that is detrimental to myself.

I don't see them, or at least, not all of them. That's honesty.

This is a door

























This is a window..







































































They're points of entry way to one's home and if used correctly they provide a non-coerced entry into ones home. When denied entry, they can be used against the owner of the home in the fits of a forced entry.

Maybe, I'm not ready for this...for him..

There are no doubts in my mind that I want the All-Star and that he would be an ideal man for me, however..as a single man if you cant control your chickens then one should clean out the coop.

Just a thought.....

I don't do stalkers. Surprise visits-at least by parties that should know its not their place to surprise me, because I actually LOVE surprises; Doorbells ringing 4 times at minutes to 2am; People who wait outside of peoples homes, etc.
This is the correlation: The one human that I loathe, my mother, as much as she didn't raise me because we have no connection with one another she inadvertently trained my mind that I'm too good to chase after any man on this planet. A combination of my looks, intelligence and pride is too much for me to stalk any man. Any. And though I have grown to despise her more, we both share the same sentiment of confusion when women stalk men. WORSE so, if this man is not your husband.
It's something that leaves my mind truly blank.
The only thing that fills the space is that the more I draw close to this man, the more I feel and I'm throwing myself at him, meanwhile he's throwing himself at everyone else.

All of us chickens in the coop get fed, but some are apparently laying golden eggs, some of them just plain white eggs and I'm failing to produce at all. We're all aware that we're part of a coop..all "97" of us "chickens" but the name of the game is who is going to be the farmer's favorite.

Or in the end will the Farmer just pick a pig instead..
All it evokes in me is fear.

I don't know if I should be more fearful of the other chickens trying to pluck my feathers off one by one, or of knowing that I'm not the only chicken that the Farmer wants is just as painful as grabbing a handful of my feathers at one time. Or should I fear like the other chickens that he may not choose any of us, but a totally different animal..one we've never saw coming.

And as I laid awake, hearing a chicken ring door bells, and wait outside of a home in full on stalker mode to get to the farmer..I fought my tears.
Tears of gratefulness that maybe, Mother dear was good for something besides destroying my soul-she made me too prideful to call a man back more than once, to ring doorbells and wait outside homes.. Tears of guilt, that someone has to feel something for the Farmer the way I do..to stalk. Tears of anger and frustration that if I ever became the chosen chicken, will it always be a life of someone lurking around in efforts to pluck all my feathers?

But I didn't cry in front of the Farmer..I won't open up my soul that much until a soul is opened up to me; a mistake I've made too many a time before. And I didn't cry driving home, even though the heat of my tears brimming burned my eyes.

But I cry now, at home.
Upon entry, after a fight with my mother, upstairs behind a closed door, I can cry now.

Cry over losing her.
Cry over always being left in the coop.
Cry in absolute fear.

I can cry now.

New Jack Update: Storyline

I'm done.
Officially.

Over the last two months, I've undergone a vast amount of stress. Between losing my job, trying to recover from the anger, frustration, sadness and confusion from the job in the first place, trying to relax and hear my own self think for just 5 whole minutes, ending my three year relationship with The Significant, meeting an All-Star that I'll never fully call my own, learning how to be hard with my heart, learning to be alone-first without men and then without anyone, being called a lush, and a home life that only half of me wants......I'll say that I've had my fair share of stress.
All these stresses have actually broken me down way more than they have built me up..

They say diamonds are built under pressure,maybe I'm not a diamond because pressure has the exact adverse effect on me.

After nearly two months and a full two week hiatus from people, a small part of me feels like I'm recovering but every time I start to recover, leave it to my mother-my arch nemesis to break me back down to nothing. No matter what anyone has to say to me, she has made it as such as that she is the antagonist in my story line from beginning to end of my entire book.
At 23 years of age, I've fully given up on the arch nemesis and I, the protagonist, ever joining mutual forces to take out some unknown enemy like a deep episode of Power Rangers.

The state of your life is nothing more than a reflection of your state of mind - Dr Dwayne Dyer

If that is so, then why is it that I've always wanted a normal, sane relationship with the one person that everyone insists I'm supposed to be closest to..but every attempt I make, its always combated. Where is the reflection of what I want? A normal, peaceful relationship.

I've always been told, "Don't say that you hate people, hate is too strong of a word and no one should hate anyone, it's always better to use the term dislike".
But I wonder more and more, as I grow..if hate is really too strong of a word. I'm sick of being cut down to nothing. I'm sick of everything. And what I'm sick of most of all, is being blatantly hated by a woman and being told I'm not allowed to hate back. I understand its a sick cycle, but I'm sick of what I feel like is almost near persecution. Not physically, anymore at least, but mentally. For as far back as I could remember, maybe even random pieces of ages 4 and 5 she's always mentally persecuted me.

..And why..

What could I have done at age 4 besides, exist to be mentally persecuted so?

In every story, the antagonist has a hatred for the protagonist and that's what fuels the antagonist's reasoning for persecuting the protagonist. I don't want her to be my enemy, but she insists upon it.

Insists upon it.....

After awhile, the protagonist can only be persecuted for so long before they too develop their own hatred for the antagonist...their own hatred for why they are being persecuted..why they are being chased, harmed, threatened, stressed...

The constant story line....
Snow White versus the Queen
Super Mario versus Bowser
Harry Potter versus Lord Voldemort

It makes me always want to pull away into a hiatus away from everyone or run to everyone in efforts to never be in the same house as the antagonist.

I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of running.
There are no more mushrooms for Mario to power me up...no more witch spells to cast or learn if I were Harry Potter..

I'm just tired. So dead exhausted, I wish someone truly understood.
Sometimes, people assume I'll be in bed from sun up to sun down because of my thyroid, and whereas that may be true, on some days..it's just her. Just the knowledge that it'll always be the antagonist versus the protagonist.

It's an on going game. And it won't end until one of us dies.

And then, it's game over.

Game Over.

Rihanna Update: Russian Roulette

Album: Rated R in stores November 23rd

I Am

Today is October 16th, 2009..my last entry was September 30th.

"Sometimes, having a big heart leads to an even bigger shield around it. However, keeping a sword is completely optional".

I am broken.
I am broken.
I am broken.
I am the owner of a big heart.
I am a carrier of a thyroid disorder.
Maybe, I am a lush.
I am tired.
I am cranky.
I am cold.
I am officially depressed.
I am a clown, wearing a smile when I want to do everything but smile.
I am sensitive.
I am sensitive.
I am sensitive.
I am open.
I am closed.
I am dying.
I am falling apart.
I am lonely.
I am afraid.
I am running.
I am standing still.
I am going through the motions.
I am trying to progress.
I am failing.
I am successful.
I am weak
I am weak.
I am weak.
I am strong.
I am strong
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am sick.
I am sick.
I am needy.
I am angry.
I am angry.
I am angry.
I am alone.
I am a writer.
I am a genius.
I am lost.
I am creative.
I am messy.
I am growing.
And it's true, I am lacking in self-belief
I am feeling defeated.
I am frustrated.
I am empty but I am full in that I am in pain.
I am stubborn.
I am opinionated.
I am struggling.
I am a fighter.
I am easily hurt.
I am easily distraught.
I am a believer in love.
I am avid in not supporting vengeance.
I am not at peace.
However, I am me.
Whatever I believe I am, I am being that me to the fullest extent.

I am hurting.
I am hurting.
I am hurting.

The hurt surrounds me day and night and reinforces the reasoning behind why I keep a set-a shield and sword. My shield is still up, and at the moment, thicker than it has been in the past only because I hurt so very much..but I AM working on putting my sword down.

I AM working on putting it down.