@uthor@

@uthor@

Meet @UTHOR@MB

Author Aija Monique Butler, was born in San Diego California, in 1979. She currently resides in the San Francisco Bay area where she is a student of Medicine pursing a graduate degree in Healthcare Management. She is an Advocate and Philanthropist for non-profit program development in the areas of Youth and Social Service Development. She is a grant writer and holds an extensive background in Psychology and has a host of medical certifications. Aija has a love for the arts and is a writer of poetry both fiction and non-fiction novels and memoirs.

Aija Butler is the Author of the Fiction Mystery Suspense Drama, My Nemesis a book series, Non-Fiction Memoirs, “Life Honestly After, The Undeniable Truth,” and “The Rebirth of My Soul,” an intimidate look at her walk with illness, sharing her journey through recovery and independence. She is also the Poet/Songstress of the Poetic Experience, My Butterfly Effect, and Non-Fiction Poetic Memoirs, In the Mourning.

Latest works involve freelance article writing,and an album of musical and poetic memoirs. Aija also looks to put together her first script and plans to release three new books in the year 2012. Look out for this creative genious she is taking on the world of creative arts by storm.

Monday, September 19, 2011

BORN AGAIN THE RESURRECTION 10/31/2011

In death I wrote journals that spoke of goals I wanted to accomplish. I spoke of the promise if given a chance to live. I find this quite humorous. When we humans are faced with travesty we remember our faith. We are saved and sanctified. God’s promise is first and foremost and our prayers become daily rituals that were once gone in the winds. I thought that when faced with death I would cringe with fear. However, when it came time to fight there was a point and time when I embraced it.

These same feelings of inadequacy and anxiety come when I am on the brink of success. I become so fearful of achievement, I let go. I am afraid to fail, I am afraid of the added responsibility, I am afraid to follow through. Hence, the pep talk comes into play. “The Rebirth I like to call it,” I get fired up. I remember the cause, I remember my fight. Thus I am Reborn and ready to fight…


“Around and around I go…, this life of experience. Around in death, in remission, and back to the fight, around and around I go…”

            I was 76 pounds of scar tissue to meat upon my bones. Forgetting the struggle from time to time I got caught in the winds. I was found out cold riddled with signs of my disease. My soul was dying and I had to die in order to be reborn. Grabbing hold to my shoulders I cradled my frail bod and whispered these words, “I want to survive.”
            There was a time when I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t see much reason to deny the inevitable. This is my story, my reason, my life support, my cause. I survived, but many a time I must call to remember why. I get frustrated when things don’t go my way. I get frazzled when the winds pick up and threaten to close my lungs and stifle my breathing.
            I write to remind myself of the fight and uphold my shield for I am at war. I write these words of encouragement, mentoring, and self-reflection as I recover. I also write my words of hurt, pain, and odd feelings as I am reborn. It is a daily fight to remember your struggle. Comfort comes quick. We take advantage of second chances in the blink of an eye.
Don’t be fooled to think you were saved in vain. If you walk out of a burning fire, you must recollect where the cup of water came from to put you out.”

Author Aija M. Butler

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Poem from Spoken Word Album The Butterfly Effect...


I am living,

I am singing,

I am dancing,

I play the piano,

My fingers tap the keys passionately;

I play the guitar,

I am playing to the beat of my own drum

I wrote the music, the lyrics, I run the show,

Seductively my fingers strum the strings of my guitar

My soulful voice hums an echo across a stage of dim lights

I am painting 

I am painting the trees, the skies, and the wind

I am painting my future as my feet sit in wet sands

The colors of each season pass as I grow

Creatively, remarkably, catching the very essence of life

I am living

Friday, September 16, 2011

Under Lock and Key Coming Janurary 2012


I can still feel the snap of my arm being jerked outward in my attempt to flee his wrath;

I raised my right arm to shield myself from the blow;

Catching my arm in midair he assured me that everything was ok;

He was not angry;



I came from under a my ball of defense and relaxed my strained muscles only to catch the full blow of his furry;

My head jerked back and hit the stone fireplace;

The shock of the beating numbed the pain;

It wasn't until he said he was sorry that my bones began to ache;

During the hours we had company in my dorm apartment he would make a point to show how obedient I was;



He fed upon his desire to create fear in the hearts of his followers;

He was short in stature but, he was grizzly;

Days drifted into weeks;

He worked the dark streets of Los Angeles;

He smelt of trash, when he returned, still he held a hubris fortitude;

Happy to see that he had retained ownership, of my person and loyalty’s,

He would dare others to look at me;



If he caught site of such betrayal and possible lust after what he proclaimed to own;

He would beat the man senseless then pull a knife to my throat;

The same question was always asked;

“Do you think I should kill him?”

I would suggest that he be exiled from the group, a small act of courage to protect him from this demons wrath;

God knows my time was near;

I too, had plans of making an escape;



He didn't take so kindly of my suggestion;

He figured I was looking to save my undercover lover;

He gave him a small window to either jump from or be thrown out of;

He jumped;

The second floor was high enough to break a few bones if willfully fleeting,

However to be thrown could end a life intentionally;

To jump was best;



Unfortunately, my hour of terror had just begun;

He continued his speech to his fellow constituents that cringed with fear but dare not shut their eyes to visual presentations;

As their eyes watered afraid to blink the tears threatened to cause attention to possible weakness;

He trailed the knife from under my eye down the outline of my face;

The men took the chance to wipe their mugs and adjust their game countenance;



I was stiff as a board and late answering his repeated question. "Are you afraid of me?"

No,

The answer he so loved to hear;

If I were scared I wouldn't give him the satisfaction in knowing;

I fought back tears as he forced the point of the knife into my cheek;



"Good!" He teased;

Flashing his silver pointed medal around;

“Because to kill you would then be justified”;

He grinned, as he leaned in to kiss my trembling lips;

I never understood how killing someone would unless in self-defense; be justified

My plan;

However, I believe that his meaning to justification was in reference to his conscience;

I questioned the existence of good beneath his rotting skin;

I cringed at the thought of unveiling the maggots penetrating his heart;



My eyes lowered and shifted view to his followers;

I begged for their mercy;

I winked at those that had fallen for my sly temptress seduction;



For the life of me I couldn't understand why none of them had taken the opportunity to win back their freedom;

I’d given plenty of time and opportunity;

Motive floated in the air like a cloud of smoke from an uncontained fire;

Desire caused sweat to bead upon their brows and wet their palms.



“Cowards I screamed,” from my delirious mind;

My arms and legs were kicking and flinging as hard and fast as they could in my mind;

I burned them with my stares;

Some looked away;

Others dare not show signs of emotion or disagreement to his performance,

For fear they too would be asked to leave;

Departure without being formally excused as a group could be fatal;

If I had the chance I pull the gun from hips of one of these sensitive assholes and kill him myself;



Mere boys claiming to be men holstering guns;

They are afraid to use,

But jump up and down in an attempt to prove themselves to another man;

A man with who is just as afraid as they are;

Under his wrath,

The lot of us;

Under lock and key…

©2011 Author Aija M . Butler

Under Lock and Key






Lovejoy's Word's on Parenting Jr. Is hitting again...Can someone get him Please? Stop LJ... Stop...

Lj is a feisty one. He enjoys ruff housing with his fellow brethren. Sadly, other children that cross his path become intimidated Little Jeffrey’s advances.

                Lj, is an active sport, highly intelligent, and enjoys mimicking words and actions. He is a very impressionable 23 month old boy. He is a risk taker. He is excited about his new found ability to jump, run, and swing on dangerously loose items without fear. Little Jeffrey Jr. takes pride in launching large, sharp, and heavy objects at persons both young and old. His two favorite words are NO and MINE.

                As we speak young Jeffrey Jr. has taken an interest in my journal entry and smeared Oreo cookie cream all over my gel pen words, while Baby Jordan contributes a bit of drool.

                Active as can be their brains are growing at an enormous rate and it is very important to embrace their interests and creativity; positive or negative. We must turn the negative into the positive.

                Although young Jeffrey’s hitting becomes a bit of a task, there is a very important lesson to be learned. Parents should cease from saying the word, “Stop,” Stop hitting, stop running, stop this or that. Hitting at this stage is his form of playful activity. Young Lj is simply expressing his sense of sociability. He needs to be taught how to play well with others, share, and communicate.

                Also Parents keep in mind the act of hitting is learned. If you hit them, they will hit others. Encouraging healthy, playful activity with others is highly recommended.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Fish Out Of Water

I got up this morning feeling unaccomplished. I’ve worked since I was 14 and not being able to do so now makes my stomach turn. I had been out of work for 2 months after my school closed and I was twiddling my thumbs. Once again, confused about my education and the career I wanted to take on.

While I was teaching I’d finished 2 medical programs and decided to just keep going. I was soon to graduate, when my health turned sour. I was a fish out of water. Gasping for air and looking for someone to save me. Depression hit hard. As a result, I sought counsel. My weeping heart managed to get a hold of some anti-depressants and anxiety pills. A doctor actually prescribed them. I knew exactly what to say. I was ill, out of touch with reality, and I felt no need to go on. There was nothing wrong with me mentally at all.

I was lazy, tired, and more than willing to give up. The devil was afoot and I was about to let him win.
I took the pills for about a week until I started to feel like my insides were jumping. I was rocking and shaking like a crack head with Parkinson’s Disease. I was worse off on them than not. I flushed them down the toilet and turned to God.

I was confused because since the start of 2009, I formulated a 2-3 year plan. It was all or nothing. By the time I was to turn 32, I would have completed the credentials I needed to adjust to today’s economy. Stepping forward the next year or so I would find myself a job and settle down.

Now, life happens. That is true. Though this time when life happened I didn’t just through in the towel, however tempting. I wanted desperately to say forget it and get back on disability. I was sure they would give it to me in a heartbeat because of my wavering consciousness and physical deterioration. Still, I waited for an answer from God.

In the meantime I started to write. I wrote how I truly felt, those feelings you dare not expose to the public. I also wrote about the changes in my life, and how it may affect those around me. There I revisited my times of failure, success, and illness. I revealed things about myself I had yet to realize. For the life of me some of the things placed on those pages I can’t remember even writing. I also never felt like I had that talent until I’d looked down to realize I had written 2 full books.

Now the year of 2010 is nearing its end. I have suffered from pain and disappointment. Having fallen, I was filled with the determination to succeed. Dusting myself off I cracked open my books and completed the assignments due. I continued to write as I was awarded medical leave from school. I was given a chance to finish without attending. Via online I took my assigned tests and turned in my work. Subsequently, I will graduate a week earlier than the rest of my peers.

7 weeks left in my program. I am ready to place a check by this achievement. There was an answer from God as well, 5 books now complete. Throughout the two months of depression, I locked myself in a cave. All I had were my thoughts, a pen, pad, and my laptop. My smart phone served its purpose well, as I waited for my doctor to call me during my frequent visits to the hospital. Out of all this my books have been accepted for publication.

I skipped a very vital part of this story. I didn’t have the courage to submit my work. It all started when I was teaching at the Y with two of my fellow directors. Two different sites two different co-workers, now very good friends of mine. Not last but not least my fiancĂ©’ which believed that God didn’t have me sitting up all those nights, clicking and clunking around on this laptop of mine for nothing.

He told me that I should submit my work to be published. I thought that was hilarious. I was in school. I had my plan ironed out to a T, why confuse all this with a side-job that I may not have time to continue.
I began to question whether my sickness played a hand in Gods plan. Don’t ask me what he was doing or where he was going with all this. I am just a vessel. So I wrote on. I put together a manuscript of my first work. a small motivational book which told of my illness, fear of independence, and morals. A simple map that I had made to render my own lack of esteem to profit towards a willingness to accept accomplishment. I ran out to staples in my snowflake pajamas from the Christmas before and had it bond. After of course I placed a copyright on my written material. I made three copy’s and rushed one over to my grandmothers for aunt Staci to read, and one to my mother. I kept one for myself and later gave that one to my brother.

After getting some feedback I decided to do some research on the whole publishing bit. There were several ways to go. So I self-published my first works. 4 weeks later I received an email from a traditional publishing company with whom had interest in publishing my book. Now afraid, I stepped back and sat on the email for another week. I read my book over about three times. I decided that it wasn’t good enough and ignored the offer.

When the agency didn’t hear from me for about a month one of the gals decided to send me another email. She asked if I had looked over the contract, and if I had any questions. I of course had made my piece with the whole writing business. I had packed all of my journals away, and turned my focus to finishing school.. The rules could not be broken. That was the promise I had made myself for 2010. I had to finish what I started no matter what. It wasn’t about the money for me, It was about becoming a reliable person.

We all say what we want to do and become but; life does get in the way of genuine thought out plans. However, often when the smoke clears we still sit and allow the dust to cover our dreams, thus they become deferred.

Moving back to the heart of this story, I finally took the time to sit down and listen to God. I also found the time to calm my nerves. I had been writing so much that I thought my brain would explode. I was so fearful that this time would be the end. I needed to finish these works so that I had something to leave my children. I don’t know it may seem weird but becoming something big has always been an issue for me. I could taste it. Again it wasn’t the money. Not many authors become flourishing bestsellers and or have movies based on their books. Unless they were famous first. Most fund their own novels and biographical memoirs.

One day I was taking a shower, which seems to be the place where my good plots and ideas derive. I found myself jumping out of the shower, and running into my room dripping wet. I had to get back to my computer. The plot thickened as my fingers fought to keep up with my mind. I was so afraid I would loose it. I nearly started to cry. In that moment I knew that I had a passion for writing. I always had. I failed to realize it because I was always in search of something else. I am elated about the fact that I have found a way to effectively convey messages, I can dream big. Not that I couldn’t before. The difference now is that I know what it is I am dreaming about.

2010, has been a year of awakening for me. A time to stop talking and start doing. I am happy to say that by the time I hit 32 my education will be complete. I may take a class or two just to keep up with the times. My writing will also be a career of mine that is secondary to my stable pay, but it will serve as a great way of self counsel. I used to think that my background in psychology was for not. It turns out medicine and the mind go hand and hand. It put me a step ahead of everyone else. The mind is a very beautiful thing. Use it wisely.
 
 

Sunday, November 28, 2010

What's The Verdict, Life Honestly After

I’m dying and this time a doctor told me so . I see life a lot differently now. I don’t care for much arguing and if I disagree with the way others are acting and living their lives, I find it hard to comment. It could be at times be that I don’t care. Or is it possible that I feel that it may be best to live for the moment.

I feel like I am on trial. Its as if I witnessed a murder and I needed to come clean or they were going to kill me for it. I was the only witness. I was also the victim. I feel like I am locked in this dream, almost daily when the chest pain or migraines begin. I feel like the only way out is to surrender to my illness. My freedom is being ripped from under me. My dreams that I finally started to complete were stolen. It’s only a matter of time before I am crippled and bedridden.

The worries happen and my cup falls to the floor and breaks. I am past the brink of self destruction these days. I am angry with God even these days. I am sitting now sweating bullets. My stomach is sure to explode. There begins the rocking. I could kill with the cut of my eyes. I am telling myself constantly to calm down.

Everything will be okay. Then reality sits in and I realize that its just the opposite. This is real. A real life tragedy.

The Verdict is in. The jury takes their seats. I stand to face my judge and jury and offer a plea of mercy. “If I could simply retain my sanity in light of your findings. I would like to through my mercy unto the court. For with all that has taken place. I am lost. I am living a nightmare and I can’t seem to get out. The nights and days run together. I am weak and without water. I am falling prey to the ways of this world.

Inching slowly, bending and swaying before passing out on the courts floor, I beg for a new cup and a fresh glass of water. For my soul is thirsty. If I am to be whole again I must be replenished. No matter what I am faced with, there must a light at the end of this tunnel.

Fill my cup so that I may quench this thirst, so that I can at least stand and fight, for as long as the fight is in me.

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Saturday, November 27, 2010

Sample Chapter From My Nemesis, Towards the light


Joy stepped into her bathroom and starred into the dark. Her first thought was to call on God. She wanted him to show himself and explain his actions. She couldn't she how they were justified. She walked slowly to the tubs edge and looked into the deep oval ceramic surface and sat on its edge.
The room seemed to expand as if the walls were no longer there. All she could see was a bright light, that appeared from just beyond the tub. A calming glow that moved her to sway softly, as the luminosity calmed her soul. Tuning into her consciousness she turned on the water to the tub. The golden handles with pearl tips seemed to reflect small sparkles of gold onto the water, as it filled the bathtub. The room was well lit by the golden highlights. Joy watched the waters flow as if hypnotized by the clear crystals falling from its spout.
As the water surfaced towards the tubs edge, she could visibly see the steam hovering over its top. She could feel the soft warmth of the clouded steam, and in it she calmed her weeping heart. She felt a great sense of peace.
Though the chill of the bathroom flowed from her feet against the tile floor, she was warmed by the presence of something or someone. Curious with the urge to feel the closeness of her husbands spirit, she called out to him. Joy prayed that her lack paranormal belief would not hinder her possibility of experience. She quieted her self and looked into the empty space filled with light and steam from her hot bath. In it he stood quietly. She was fearful at first, at this presumed presence of someone that had passed on. She nearly fell from the tub. She would have easily hit her head and knocked unconscious.
Joy held on to her chest frightfully aware of her close walk with death and inhaled slowly. Grabbing on the flesh of her chest she grabbed both the garment of her oversized shirt, and the thin tissue between her breast purposely to test her conscious awareness. Pain was definite and her eyes were focused even in the dark of the night. Slowly releasing her shirt, she placed her hands toward the illuminating light in an attempt to touch just the hem of his garment. Unable to feel the cloth she retreated and shook her head solemnly, then violently, as she realized her disbelief caused her to loose touch.
Just in that moment the peace that had culminated her mind, body, and spirit dissipated. She was tired and worn. Her back slumped over and depression quickly settled. Moving from the tubs edge she turned her back towards the door and the light was gone. She slowly crumbled to the floor and fell into a tantrum of unexplained volatile convulsions, as she cried for mercy and understanding.
“Dear God, Why has Thou Forsaken me. Why must I stay to die alone in the hellish ways of this world.? What am I do to do with this life, now that all that I have loved and cherished has perished?”
“You live..”
Joy peered from between the small cracks in her hands. Slowly she uncovered her face. She could have sworn to have heard Jakes voice, but nothing was there.
“Hello!” she called out. Making sure that her mind was in fact playing tricks on her. She was even fearful that the voice would again answer her. She too thought that she may be loosing her sanity. Things that were happening were not of this world. She couldn't explain her thoughts or actions. Her mind raced and the outbreaks of sudden amnesia puzzled not only her, but her family.
“I'm here,” the voice interrupted.
Joys this time she was afraid to speak aloud. “What do you want?” she asked as if she wanted to know the answer.
“I want you to live,” was his only response.
Joys eyes widened with surprise but the voices request only seemed to add fuel to the fire burning within Joys chest. She was angry. She wanted an explanation.
“What for?” she screamed.
“What for…?” Again she called at the empty space just beyond her tub and demand an answer. “How dare you leave?” she yelled begging for his return.
Still, the water drifted amongst the soft winds, that crept in from the bathroom window. Soft drips of water hit the pool before her, but nothing more. Not even a whisper of apology and farewell came from the golden light, that had lit her bathroom just moments before.
Joys mind seemed to burst her brain was scrambled. She had bits and pieces of reality playing in her mind. She wasn't delusional as she was before. She was psychotic. She screamed at the top of her lungs beckoning Leleil to show her face.
She tore down the towel rack and slammed her fists on the sink, and jolted open the medicine cabinet in search for relief. When she couldn't find the pills she stopped suddenly as if her breakdown were calming and just starred down into the drain of the sink, The small metal circle lit up brightly and reflected a small razor that had fallen from the shelf of the medicine cabinet. In that moment Joy felt relief. She felt as her answer had arrived. That if only she could die, she could live passing on the horrors of this life to be resurrected anew. Born into a new place and time a chance to start over.
Joy slumped over the sinks edge as if her head and shoulders were too heavy to bear. Her thoughts swarmed in circles.
“What are you waiting for? Here is your chance to be one again with your husband children. They have gone to a much better place. You can go along with them.”
“Why are you here? You have done nothing, but make me out to be a bad person. You tiptoe around in your make-up and perfectly curled hair, ordering me around. I have no control over my thoughts and feelings. My husband said otherwise to what you are suggesting.” Joy could feel her hands warming as her hand glided towards the sink. She retrieved the blade from the bottom of the ivory marble and white surface and starred at her reflection. Her skin warmed as if the blood were coming to a boil, and excited to spill from her flesh.
“I dare you to do something for yourself.” I dare you to end these feelings of loneness and pain. So, how long has it been?”

“What do you mean?”
“How long has it been, since you have done something good for yourself, been selfish, spent lavishly on something you didn't necessarily need but desired?”

“I don't know. Why does this even matter? I don't have any desires anymore. The only thing I want is, to find my family. If that isn't up for grabs, then I’d just as well, spend the rest of my days rotting away.”
“It isn't fair you know.”

“What do you mean?”
“You suffering so much. First you get sick at a young age then you miraculously survive only to be hit with another disease, after you start your family and career. I bet if you had spent less time caring for others you would be way ahead of your game. You know its your fault you lost them. You didn't have to send them off. You sure as hell didn't need to borrow money from that scum bag ex-boyfriend of yours. You are no better than a drug addict trading your daughter for money like that.”
“What? how dare you? It wasn't like that at all. I needed the money to find a cure. I wasn't ready to leave my family. I wanted to do whatever, was in my power to beat this disease. I couldn't let my family see me in such a vulnerable state. I needed to know that they were ok. That if my treatment didn't work out they wouldn't become filled with depression and loss of hope. Jake would have been fixated on healing me. I don't expect you to understand. It is obvious that you do not care about anyone.”

“I care about you. I know that you have been stuck in this rut for far to long. I am hear to put a stop to this madness. Your family died Joy. They died tragically in a storm. A tornado touched ground without warning and claimed the lives of over 1500 people. You and those other families suffered a horrible loss. I am here because you brought me here. I am the one that has the power to heal you, of the disease you have had all of your life. Need. The need to be liked loved and accepted. The need to be successful and looked up to. The need to please others at any cost. All that is over my friend. You may not like my methods, but they work. All talk and no action is meaningless. You have been saying that you don't care your entire adult life, but yet and still you run as soon as they call anytime of day or night. Vengeance is in the air.”
“Vengeance. What… or who rather am I, Avenging? If the is all destined to happen in order for me to live up to my true potential then the war is over ?”
“No Joy it has just begun. If you bothered to shut up for just a few moments at a time, you would be able to see how the individuals you call family and friends take advantage of your kindness and generosity. Has it ever occurred to you that if you weren't so busy paying off the debts of others you wouldn't have had to borrow the money from Jacob anyhow. Or did that small issue blow over your senses. I do believe you are lost in your own mind. Your defenses are down because you do not know how to defend yourself. Due in part because you don't know who to defend yourself from. I bet apart of you is thinking that I am the enemy. That I need to be dealt with, that possibly I am a figment of your imagination and that I in fact do not exist. Well look in the mirror touch the contours of your face. Tell me what you see.”
“ Please just go away. I don't need any help taking care of my home or personal affairs. All I need is for everyone to simply leave me be. All of you keep volunteering your two cents in regards to my conscious ability to think and make healthy rational decisions. Well what if this one time in my life I don't want to be careful. I don't care about the outcome.”
“Then I’d have to say that you are continuing to lie to yourself.” Which isn’t going to do either of us any good. Humor me for about two minutes.
Look at yourself. You need me. I am the one that can handle the harsh realities of this world.”
“You can't be serious.”

“Oh really why not? Don't you think its time you were held responsible for some of the drama you have caused over the years? I mean look at you. You have managed to start an enormous amount of shit, and here you are standing around weeping as if you are the victim. I find this whole act quite humorous. Being that I know you far more than I’d like to admit. You know now that I think about it, I can't seem to remember a time in your adult life that you took responsibility for you personal wrong doings. Sure you offer to take the heat for others often just so you will be sought as the good Samaritan. I mean really. When have you just you were held accountable for your own selfish deeds? Isn't what all these personal meetings in the bathroom about. Your personal counseling sessions. Tears of remorse and confession. Is this in fact a confession when we are the only ears that hear what we already know. Or are you suggesting that your frequent visits to the restroom are spent in counsel with God? Are you talking over your sins with Jesus himself?”

“I am not a shamed of who I am. You are merely a figment of my imagination. The evil side to my conscience. I know how to shun away from your advances. The good in me will prevail. I know who you are and why you have come. Only I won't let you take over my soul no matter how unfair I feel my world of circumstance to be. I do use this time to conference with God. Instead lately I am confronted by you, my ill thoughts of envy and hate. My insecurities about life and my ability to succeed. I used to think the my reflection in the mirror was a force to be reckoned with. I could be lost in translation, admiring the beautiful characteristics of my face. A face that at one time I hated and had to share. Now I won't use this hate I have for others that may be doing better than I to continue to hate myself. I even hated the good my siblings admired because I was responsible, people would start to depend on me. You think I signed up for this role. It was birthed unto me. I tried out for other roles but I landed this one. You don't like me because I don't do as others to get to where I need to go. I create my own venue and plan of action. So when are you going to get the picture that you are no longer needed?”

“When you show me independence. I see you glaring at me in passing. You purposely leave the door open to make sure you can peak and see that I have not left you. Your fear of abandonment has always left you vulnerable and susceptible to abuse. You are nothing but bait for those out for themselves, which is damn near every being on this earth. I think that if we could just be honest about your neediness things would go a lot smoother.”

“Really well maybe we can touch on that another time. I am going to have lunch with Sam.”

“Oh yea good luck with that. She is another main problem, Joy. When are you going to cut the cord already? What! I bet she is having issues with Charles. She wants you to mediate between the issues. Why with your psyche degree you are sure to have all the right answers. Why I bet you won't be able to get a word in edge wise with all the sniffling and harping on Sam. What about you? The two of you already have to share the damn face. No wonder Charles is confused. I mean the only difference between you and Sam is that Sam has the balls to say no. You on the other hand scurry like a cat from water, when faced with confrontation. That's why I'm here Joy. You can cry now. After all that's what you're best at. You cry while others get even.”

“SHUT UP!” Joy yelled. She threw her hands up grabbing two handfuls of her curly mane and began to pull furiously. Joy was desperately trying to shake Leliel from her being. Andras was present and with the good and bad their could only be evil. She was confused. The only way out seemed to be death. The pills were causing her psychotic breaks to become more frequent. In fact they were giving birth to more of her untamed personalities. Joy now physically fighting with her deranged mind was clawing at the skin on her face, yelling into her reflection in the mirror. Andras starred back at her shaking her head. Her arms were folded and she wore a smug grin on her bright red painted lips.
“You are a crazed individual.” Joy ignored her evil twins comments and appeared to be aroused by the warm blood flowing from her pores. She balled fist, squeezing her hands tightly to watch the blood ooze from the cracks of her fingers.
 
 
 All rights reserved, copyright 2010, Aija M. Butler

"I Get it How I Live!"

There were this saying a few of the girls would chant from time to time in my girls program. Some of them would be arguing about God knows what, and one of the comebacks to the others character belittling was, “I get it how I live.” She would be hopping up and down rolling her head , all while rolling her hair into a neat bun. Only to have it pulled out by the roots.

I was so puzzled at the statement that during one of our sessions, I decided to gain some insight on the matter. The girls were all excited to share their stories about the nature in which this particular phrase rang true individually.

However, once I started to hear the stories behind the truth of this so called badge of honor, I refused to listen to anymore of the bad girl chronicles. I needed desperately to set the record straight.

A way of life is proclaimed to be the definition of the phrase, “I Get it How I live.” So what do we do, to obtain these things? When I invited the boys to join our discussion, the girls were amazed at the concepts the young men had about the statement. The boy’s brought light to the situation. While the ladies prized their understanding of the slang term. The boys demeaning views were not only disrespectful but graphic in nature, which opened the eyes of many.

As we all know in this society we are not all created equal. No matter the change in season or turn of the century women and men are from two different worlds and praised for different things. The boys were rowdy and pleased to announce their gang affiliations, and poor respect for women. They used the term Bitch and Hoe loosely and referred to the behaviors of girls unacceptable; but condoned such acts of misconduct when there were the recipients thereof.

Again stating that, “I Get it How I live.” The girls sadly agreed, but couldn’t knock the next person for what they participated in for the simple fact that to each his or her own. Another statement that suggests freedom of choice, but clearly leaves room for ridicule.

After our long chat which included the gentlemen, I asked them to leave and we had a girl session to clarify the matter. The girls were really eager to lay into the boys for their rudeness, but didn’t give any further clarification to the phrase at hand. Some of the girls said that it’s just some stupid phrase they heard a rap artist say so like many trends others followed.

Again an old saying comes to mind, “If so and so jumped off of a bridge, would you?” Of course not is always the answer, yet and still we choose to follow the crowd. Some of the most ridiculous notions are made public and because someone with a little cash said it, we jump in the boat.

I will be one to tell you that I am quick to abandon ship, if the boat even looks like it may have a crack in it. You should always come prepared with your own life raft.

So, as the discussion progressed, I decided to break down the statement and perhaps change the focal point of its meaning. We were going to continue to, “Get it how we lived!” Though we were going to positively reinforce the nature of what we were getting.

We would still get money, but by way of jobs and education. We would also seek popularity, but by way of healthy character building, and social clubs that benefit affirmative outcomes.

I had to put a stop to the “Get it how I live,” mess. They were simply running around like chickens with their heads cut off, babbling such madness. As the Butler family says, “Not all money is good money, folks.” We as adults need to be reminded of that just as much as these teens do, when confronted with get rich quick schemes and the like.

Parents we much teach our kids about the dangers of in this world, while we school them on matters of the streets and how to avoid getting caught in between, we need to encourage positive reinforcement. Teach them about the importance of education and stability. Lecture them on the true meanings of these slurs slang language they hear, before they repeat it.

I can appreciate the term, “I get it how I live.” It was simply the way they were accumulating these items that scared me. Also the fact that it didn’t mean the same thing across both genders, not equally for that matter. You could acquire materials, in any such way, but you could also be looked down upon by ways in which you chose to participate, depending on your gender.