I can still feel the snap of my arm being jerked outward in my attempt to flee his wrath. Id raise my right arm to shield myself from the blow. Catching my arm in mid air he ensured me that everything was ok. He wasn't 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.
To make a point of ownership 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. I lived on the second floor, high enough to break a few bones if someone was literally trying to kill you. To jump was his best bet.
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. As he trailed the knife from under my eye down the outline of my face the men took the chance to wipe their faces and adjust their game faces.
I was stiff as a board and late answering his repeated question. "Are you afraid of me?" I said 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 replied. Because to kill you would then be justified.
I never understood how killing someone would unless in self defense, my plan, but I believe that his meaning to justification was in reference to his conscience.
My eyes lowered and shifted view to his followers. For the life of me I couldn't understand why none of them had taken the opportunity to win back their freedom. Id given plenty of time and opportunity. Motive floated in the air like a cloud of smoke from an un contained 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 conscience. 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 the hip of one of these sensitive assholes and kill him myself.
Boys claiming to be men holstering guns they are afraid to use, but jump up and down in an attempt to prove themselves to yet another man. A man with whom is just as afraid as they are. I was under his wrath, under lock and key.
@uthor@
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Kiss and Tell Excerpt From My Nemesis
Joy felt incredibly dizzy just moments after taking the pills Dr. Zimmerman had given her. She decided to cancel dinner with her in laws. She’d just rather curl up in bed and watch the, “House,” marathon.
Dr. House was just one of her television boyfriends. His nonchalant attitude and 5 0’clock shadow, were his two most sexiest traits. Joy had always had a tender spot for bad guys. She was infatuated with thugs and rogues. They were a true challenge. She vowed to make those that fell prey to her trap, a gentleman yet.
Jake however, stepped to the challenge. He was cocky and ill mannered. Yet soft and sensitive in his own way. His charm and bad boy sense of sensibility confused Joy. She’d met her match. Love came easy. She finally felt as if she could let her guard down.
Joy dazed and out of touch with reality stumbled into the bathroom. She turned the stainless steel knobs on her sink, until the water was an even flow. The cold water was sure to wake her from her confused state, she thought. Splashing her face with the cool fluid she arose from under a waterfall of relief and peered into her vanity mirror. The lights were gold, which provided a lovely glow to accentuate her natural beauty. Joy tried to focus her eyes as the water dripped from her eyelashes. Blinking hard and wiping her eyes gently she looked into the mirrors reflection.
Her face appeared to be distorted, like an abstract painting. Her face was split into two parts both filled with unpleasant emotion. Wiping the mirror in an attempt to clear her vision, she found no change in her reflection.
Joy became frantic as she started rubbing her face. She memorized the height of her cheekbone, the shape of her eyes, and the fullness of her lips. Peering back into the mirror, her reflection had changed. The mirror reflected her true consonance. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Spiraling curls escaped from her sloppy bun, tickling her eyes and the nap of her neck. Joy shook her head as she gripped the sink, trying desperately to hold herself up. She was suddenly filled with exhaustion. She dried her face gently with her hand towel and retreated from the bathroom. She made sure to turn out the lights behind her.
“Wow the doctor was right. These are some strong meds, I better lay down.”
As Joy threw back the covers to her king size bed, she jumped into the fluff of her feathery pillows, her door bell rang. “Oh go away.” Joy begged with a whining tone, hoping that if she were quiet her uninvited guest would go away. Again the door bell rang, three quick alarming chimes. Joy kicked wildly at her covers and flung her robe closed. She jumped out of bed and stomped down the hall towards the living room. It was 10 after 9.
“Alright, Alright, hold your damn horses.”
“It’s me Charles, open up.”
“Charles?” Joy whispered to herself. Oh my God, it must be something wrong with Sam. Joy ran and unlocked her well bolted door.
“Charles is everything alright?’
“Yes, Yes. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Charles grabbed Joy by her shoulders and stepped inside the door. Then what’s wrong?” Joy’s forehead wrinkled as she closed and locked the door, behind them.
Charles sat down on the couch, and put his head in his hands. “I just…I was just working late….just over the bridge…a client Jake and I were working with on a special project. The dude called to inform Jake that, he had been awarded the grant,” Charles bit his lip and shock his head. “Hum, funny thing. I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited, I grabbed for my cell and dialed his number. It had gone straight to voice mail before I had realized Jake was gone.” Charles began to sob like a baby. He fell back into the cushions of Joy’s couch to take refuge. Joy was both stunned and filled with a strong desire to console him. Her loneliness overwhelmed her.
“I didn’t even know he was working on a grant.” Joy rubbed her sweat beading hands on the front of her robe. She was surprised and oddly nervous.
“Yes it was a surprise. He kept it a secret because he didn’t want to jinx it by getting too excited. You know how superstitious he could be.”
“Yea I do. Too superstitious if you ask me. It often got into the way of his faith in himself and others.”
Charles turned to Joy, with a sudden interest to converse about their lost loved one. “ It was just hard for us growing up is all. Belief in the supernatural was unheard of. Down South it was God and Church. First and foremost we learned the ways of the land. Home remedy’s, old sayings, and superstition. We held on to every word big mama and the rest of our elders spoke. “
“Yea I know he was always quoting something from the Anderson handbook of life. He ruled it to be just as valuable as the bible.” Joy laughed from deep in her gut. It felt good and scary at the same time. She stopped abruptly as the guilt surrounded her and spun her back to reality.
Charles noticed her discomfort and searched his mind for something to say to clear the redness from Joy’s chest.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to be disrespectful.”
“No. Its quite alright.” Joy smiled nervously, as her hands began to shake. “So what now? The grant I mean. Is there any way I can finish the project with you, in his absence of course?” Joy’s voice trailed off as she headed for the kitchen. “Drink?” Joy called over her shoulder.
“What? Oh yes, please! I could use a nice stiff one right about now.” Charles stood quickly and wiped his sweat beading hands on the lap of his slacks. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, on his way to the kitchen.
“The fund is entirely up to you, Joy.” Charles uttered as he claimed his seat at the bar.
“What do you mean?” Joy looked up from her alcoholic concoction for clarity.
“The money is yours. That is the reason for my visit. I came to give you the check. Its for a million dollars,” Charles nervously handed Joy the check. He was kicking himself for handing such a large amount of money over to someone, who had no idea it existed. “The money’s yours.” Charles didn’t realize he was still gripping onto the check. He had to repeat the fact that it didn’t belong to him, in order to understand.
Joys eyes widened with both surprise and disbelief. “Wow! I had no idea.”
“He was working on some government grants for your literary program.”
Joys eyes began to well with tears. She could no longer see Charles in full view. Her mind raced.
“Joy let me help. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Joy was shaking so hard the drink no longer needed to be blended. She had shaken her toxic blend just perfectly.
Charles reached for Joys arm carefully, as he took his position behind her. He carefully removed the glass from her shaking hands and gently placed it on the counter. Charles couldn’t help but smell the aroma of Vanilla and Shea Butter enticing him. He leaned forward into Joys soft natural curls, to cure his temptations. Lingering for too long he quickly retreated pulling his head back.
Joy was still in shock from the news. She hadn’t noticed Charles slight slip in judgment. She couldn’t be sure she was strong enough to ward off his in advances, if in fact there were any. Charles cleared his throat, as he placed his hands gently on Joys forearms. He still stood behind Joy rather close; and as much as he knew his love was rising he couldn’t find the strength to pull away. When Joy didn’t respond Charles squeezed her shoulders softly, in an attempt to massage the tension and stress from her back.
“Joy can you hear me?”
Joy leaned her head back, as he felt the stress disseminating from her brow. She was overcome with comfort and relaxation. Charles noticed, wanting desperately to see her facial expression, he trailed his fingers seductively along the length of her neck. He removed the curls from his view. Joys mind drifted reminiscing about Jake, warmed her soul. She felt so calm as Jakes arms wrapped around her. Closing her eyes she let nature take its course. Leaning against Jake, Charles welcomed her advances. He and Sam hadn’t been sexually active in well over a month.
Joy’s resemblance to her sister shocked both Jake and Charles when they first met. They got more than they bargained for. The two of them were so head strong and stubborn as could be. A trait both Jake and Charles couldn’t resist. They enjoyed the challenge. With the two sisters sharing the same genetic make-up, he was confused at how different the two of them were.
Joy felt Jakes strong hands caressing the small of her back, as she kissed him passionately. She moaned and relaxed in his arms. She drifted into a daze of hypnosis that she couldn't shake.
“Jake,” she moaned as Charles lifted her from her feet, and placed her on the kitchen counter. The cool granite singed, as her hot center warmed its surface. She begged for Jake to heal her burning desire. She yearned for his touch and longed to feel him inside her.
Charles now past point of mere arousal ignored Joy’s obvious confusion and unbuckled his pants. He was having difficulty with the button on his slacks, so he ripped them open. Joy flew from under her night gown. Her eyes were closed as Charles kissed her neck and moved down to her chest.
Again joy called out to Jake now loud and clear as she was excited by his lustful foreplay. She had, had enough and was ready to receive him. Charles now fully aware of indiscretion paused and pulled back from Joy as if startled.
“Joy, Oh My God,” Charles spoke as if stunned he were in Joys apartment. Joy looked dazed and confused as her medication was now in full effect.
“Jake what's wrong?” She responded as she noticed the look of hurt and deceit on his face. Charles could hardly muster a sound as he tried to clear his throat. He busied himself trying to fasten his pants and locate Joys night gown.
“I'm sorry Joy. I'm really sorry. Joys eyes began to redden and fill with tears.
“Jake, why are you doing this? What have I done wrong?”
Charles looked up from his solemn embarrassment and noticed the hurt and pain on Joys face. Suddenly it dawned on him that Joy truly believed that he were Jake. Charles decided to play along, hoping that Joy would awake from her moment of psychotic break with no memory of his advances upon her.
“Its nothing, Joy.” Charles responded hoping that his choice to follow along wouldn't come back to bite him on the ass. Hopefully her and Sam wouldn't speak of her romantic encounter with her dead husband Jake. Sam would be sure to get to the bottom of Joys rendezvous, with her alleged mysterious man.
“I just have to get back to work is all. You know! The project I'm working on. We have some loose ends to tie. After that I'm all yours sweetheart.”
“Okay I understand.” Joy sniffed as she slowly put her clothing back on. “Do you want me to make you something to eat before you go.”
“No thanks babe its late. You should get some rest you have a job of your own to get to.” Charles hurried towards the door to free himself from guilt. He didn’t bother to look back at Joy. He couldn’t bear to see the look of confusion on her face. The only thing he could do now was hurry home, to Sam and the kids. He nearly cheated on her with her own sister. He felt like a crumb. How could he stoop so low?” He felt even worse about the money. Joy didn’t even know about the fund. The things he could have done with that amount of cash would have been tremendous. She had no use for the money. Her business was going well. Especially now since she had no responsibility’s or children to feed. Part of Charles ached for the lose of his close friend and blood. The other he envied. In death Jake was still the best thing since sliced bread. Just how long will he and Sam have to chase their dreams. Sam had spent so much time trying to live up to Joy’s expectations, she could never concentrate on her own affairs. At least that is the way Charles saw it. She could never do no wrong. He was the breadwinner. The frustration of it all had seemed to be tearing him up the last few years. He’d grown tired of his job and even more so tired of brushing the troubles of his marriage under the rug.
Charles knew that he was in trouble but he knew he couldn’t just out right go to Joy for help. However in her current state of mind, approaching her now would be his best bet.
Dr. House was just one of her television boyfriends. His nonchalant attitude and 5 0’clock shadow, were his two most sexiest traits. Joy had always had a tender spot for bad guys. She was infatuated with thugs and rogues. They were a true challenge. She vowed to make those that fell prey to her trap, a gentleman yet.
Jake however, stepped to the challenge. He was cocky and ill mannered. Yet soft and sensitive in his own way. His charm and bad boy sense of sensibility confused Joy. She’d met her match. Love came easy. She finally felt as if she could let her guard down.
Joy dazed and out of touch with reality stumbled into the bathroom. She turned the stainless steel knobs on her sink, until the water was an even flow. The cold water was sure to wake her from her confused state, she thought. Splashing her face with the cool fluid she arose from under a waterfall of relief and peered into her vanity mirror. The lights were gold, which provided a lovely glow to accentuate her natural beauty. Joy tried to focus her eyes as the water dripped from her eyelashes. Blinking hard and wiping her eyes gently she looked into the mirrors reflection.
Her face appeared to be distorted, like an abstract painting. Her face was split into two parts both filled with unpleasant emotion. Wiping the mirror in an attempt to clear her vision, she found no change in her reflection.
Joy became frantic as she started rubbing her face. She memorized the height of her cheekbone, the shape of her eyes, and the fullness of her lips. Peering back into the mirror, her reflection had changed. The mirror reflected her true consonance. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Spiraling curls escaped from her sloppy bun, tickling her eyes and the nap of her neck. Joy shook her head as she gripped the sink, trying desperately to hold herself up. She was suddenly filled with exhaustion. She dried her face gently with her hand towel and retreated from the bathroom. She made sure to turn out the lights behind her.
“Wow the doctor was right. These are some strong meds, I better lay down.”
As Joy threw back the covers to her king size bed, she jumped into the fluff of her feathery pillows, her door bell rang. “Oh go away.” Joy begged with a whining tone, hoping that if she were quiet her uninvited guest would go away. Again the door bell rang, three quick alarming chimes. Joy kicked wildly at her covers and flung her robe closed. She jumped out of bed and stomped down the hall towards the living room. It was 10 after 9.
“Alright, Alright, hold your damn horses.”
“It’s me Charles, open up.”
“Charles?” Joy whispered to herself. Oh my God, it must be something wrong with Sam. Joy ran and unlocked her well bolted door.
“Charles is everything alright?’
“Yes, Yes. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Charles grabbed Joy by her shoulders and stepped inside the door. Then what’s wrong?” Joy’s forehead wrinkled as she closed and locked the door, behind them.
Charles sat down on the couch, and put his head in his hands. “I just…I was just working late….just over the bridge…a client Jake and I were working with on a special project. The dude called to inform Jake that, he had been awarded the grant,” Charles bit his lip and shock his head. “Hum, funny thing. I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited, I grabbed for my cell and dialed his number. It had gone straight to voice mail before I had realized Jake was gone.” Charles began to sob like a baby. He fell back into the cushions of Joy’s couch to take refuge. Joy was both stunned and filled with a strong desire to console him. Her loneliness overwhelmed her.
“I didn’t even know he was working on a grant.” Joy rubbed her sweat beading hands on the front of her robe. She was surprised and oddly nervous.
“Yes it was a surprise. He kept it a secret because he didn’t want to jinx it by getting too excited. You know how superstitious he could be.”
“Yea I do. Too superstitious if you ask me. It often got into the way of his faith in himself and others.”
Charles turned to Joy, with a sudden interest to converse about their lost loved one. “ It was just hard for us growing up is all. Belief in the supernatural was unheard of. Down South it was God and Church. First and foremost we learned the ways of the land. Home remedy’s, old sayings, and superstition. We held on to every word big mama and the rest of our elders spoke. “
“Yea I know he was always quoting something from the Anderson handbook of life. He ruled it to be just as valuable as the bible.” Joy laughed from deep in her gut. It felt good and scary at the same time. She stopped abruptly as the guilt surrounded her and spun her back to reality.
Charles noticed her discomfort and searched his mind for something to say to clear the redness from Joy’s chest.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to be disrespectful.”
“No. Its quite alright.” Joy smiled nervously, as her hands began to shake. “So what now? The grant I mean. Is there any way I can finish the project with you, in his absence of course?” Joy’s voice trailed off as she headed for the kitchen. “Drink?” Joy called over her shoulder.
“What? Oh yes, please! I could use a nice stiff one right about now.” Charles stood quickly and wiped his sweat beading hands on the lap of his slacks. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, on his way to the kitchen.
“The fund is entirely up to you, Joy.” Charles uttered as he claimed his seat at the bar.
“What do you mean?” Joy looked up from her alcoholic concoction for clarity.
“The money is yours. That is the reason for my visit. I came to give you the check. Its for a million dollars,” Charles nervously handed Joy the check. He was kicking himself for handing such a large amount of money over to someone, who had no idea it existed. “The money’s yours.” Charles didn’t realize he was still gripping onto the check. He had to repeat the fact that it didn’t belong to him, in order to understand.
Joys eyes widened with both surprise and disbelief. “Wow! I had no idea.”
“He was working on some government grants for your literary program.”
Joys eyes began to well with tears. She could no longer see Charles in full view. Her mind raced.
“Joy let me help. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Joy was shaking so hard the drink no longer needed to be blended. She had shaken her toxic blend just perfectly.
Charles reached for Joys arm carefully, as he took his position behind her. He carefully removed the glass from her shaking hands and gently placed it on the counter. Charles couldn’t help but smell the aroma of Vanilla and Shea Butter enticing him. He leaned forward into Joys soft natural curls, to cure his temptations. Lingering for too long he quickly retreated pulling his head back.
Joy was still in shock from the news. She hadn’t noticed Charles slight slip in judgment. She couldn’t be sure she was strong enough to ward off his in advances, if in fact there were any. Charles cleared his throat, as he placed his hands gently on Joys forearms. He still stood behind Joy rather close; and as much as he knew his love was rising he couldn’t find the strength to pull away. When Joy didn’t respond Charles squeezed her shoulders softly, in an attempt to massage the tension and stress from her back.
“Joy can you hear me?”
Joy leaned her head back, as he felt the stress disseminating from her brow. She was overcome with comfort and relaxation. Charles noticed, wanting desperately to see her facial expression, he trailed his fingers seductively along the length of her neck. He removed the curls from his view. Joys mind drifted reminiscing about Jake, warmed her soul. She felt so calm as Jakes arms wrapped around her. Closing her eyes she let nature take its course. Leaning against Jake, Charles welcomed her advances. He and Sam hadn’t been sexually active in well over a month.
Joy’s resemblance to her sister shocked both Jake and Charles when they first met. They got more than they bargained for. The two of them were so head strong and stubborn as could be. A trait both Jake and Charles couldn’t resist. They enjoyed the challenge. With the two sisters sharing the same genetic make-up, he was confused at how different the two of them were.
****
Joy shed her robe without being coached as she started to get into the motion of things. Charles didn't take his time, his lust for Joy took control of his senses. Grabbing Joy around her slim waist he turned her quickly. He couldn't wait another moment to kiss her sweet lips. Taking control, as Joy spun into his arms he pulled her close and kissed her hungrily. Her lips were soft and melted between his own. She became like a drug to him hard to resist and illegal. He knew of his betrayal and couldn't blame Joy, for he knew she was vulnerable. Joy felt Jakes strong hands caressing the small of her back, as she kissed him passionately. She moaned and relaxed in his arms. She drifted into a daze of hypnosis that she couldn't shake.
“Jake,” she moaned as Charles lifted her from her feet, and placed her on the kitchen counter. The cool granite singed, as her hot center warmed its surface. She begged for Jake to heal her burning desire. She yearned for his touch and longed to feel him inside her.
Charles now past point of mere arousal ignored Joy’s obvious confusion and unbuckled his pants. He was having difficulty with the button on his slacks, so he ripped them open. Joy flew from under her night gown. Her eyes were closed as Charles kissed her neck and moved down to her chest.
Again joy called out to Jake now loud and clear as she was excited by his lustful foreplay. She had, had enough and was ready to receive him. Charles now fully aware of indiscretion paused and pulled back from Joy as if startled.
“Joy, Oh My God,” Charles spoke as if stunned he were in Joys apartment. Joy looked dazed and confused as her medication was now in full effect.
“Jake what's wrong?” She responded as she noticed the look of hurt and deceit on his face. Charles could hardly muster a sound as he tried to clear his throat. He busied himself trying to fasten his pants and locate Joys night gown.
“I'm sorry Joy. I'm really sorry. Joys eyes began to redden and fill with tears.
“Jake, why are you doing this? What have I done wrong?”
Charles looked up from his solemn embarrassment and noticed the hurt and pain on Joys face. Suddenly it dawned on him that Joy truly believed that he were Jake. Charles decided to play along, hoping that Joy would awake from her moment of psychotic break with no memory of his advances upon her.
“Its nothing, Joy.” Charles responded hoping that his choice to follow along wouldn't come back to bite him on the ass. Hopefully her and Sam wouldn't speak of her romantic encounter with her dead husband Jake. Sam would be sure to get to the bottom of Joys rendezvous, with her alleged mysterious man.
“I just have to get back to work is all. You know! The project I'm working on. We have some loose ends to tie. After that I'm all yours sweetheart.”
“Okay I understand.” Joy sniffed as she slowly put her clothing back on. “Do you want me to make you something to eat before you go.”
“No thanks babe its late. You should get some rest you have a job of your own to get to.” Charles hurried towards the door to free himself from guilt. He didn’t bother to look back at Joy. He couldn’t bear to see the look of confusion on her face. The only thing he could do now was hurry home, to Sam and the kids. He nearly cheated on her with her own sister. He felt like a crumb. How could he stoop so low?” He felt even worse about the money. Joy didn’t even know about the fund. The things he could have done with that amount of cash would have been tremendous. She had no use for the money. Her business was going well. Especially now since she had no responsibility’s or children to feed. Part of Charles ached for the lose of his close friend and blood. The other he envied. In death Jake was still the best thing since sliced bread. Just how long will he and Sam have to chase their dreams. Sam had spent so much time trying to live up to Joy’s expectations, she could never concentrate on her own affairs. At least that is the way Charles saw it. She could never do no wrong. He was the breadwinner. The frustration of it all had seemed to be tearing him up the last few years. He’d grown tired of his job and even more so tired of brushing the troubles of his marriage under the rug.
Charles knew that he was in trouble but he knew he couldn’t just out right go to Joy for help. However in her current state of mind, approaching her now would be his best bet.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sliding By... An Excerpt from the Purse Club
Why are we always looking for loop holes to get over on others or short change our responsibilities? Take care of your financial responsibilities right away. Especially if your purse can afford to. Try not to procrastinate and push them back. Its hard to catch up. Your boat will start to sink. You are sure to drown, if you continue to throw your life jackets in to the river.
Those of you finding it hard to follow listen. You must tend to your homes. If you are allowed a chance to slip through the cracks once you may not get another. Use your life jackets sparingly because if you don’t. You will find it exceptionally hard to pull your head above water, or make it back to shore.
Those of you finding it hard to follow listen. You must tend to your homes. If you are allowed a chance to slip through the cracks once you may not get another. Use your life jackets sparingly because if you don’t. You will find it exceptionally hard to pull your head above water, or make it back to shore.
Friday, November 19, 2010
2010 Revealed
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 I was confused about my education and the career I wanted to take on.
While I was teaching I finished 2 medical programs and decided to just keep going. I am on the brink of graduating from another despite my recent dive in health. I drifted into a deep depression just a few months ago and managed to get myself 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 had 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 felt, I wrote about what was going on about me. I 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 fiancé’ 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. I 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 righting business. I had packed all of my filled composition books up and moved right along seeing that I needed to finish the school thing. 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 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 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 mind go hand and hand. It put me a step ahead of everyone else. The mind is a very beautiful thing. Use it wisely.
All rights reserved, Copyright 2010, Aija M. Butler
While I was teaching I finished 2 medical programs and decided to just keep going. I am on the brink of graduating from another despite my recent dive in health. I drifted into a deep depression just a few months ago and managed to get myself 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 had 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 felt, I wrote about what was going on about me. I 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 fiancé’ 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. I 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 righting business. I had packed all of my filled composition books up and moved right along seeing that I needed to finish the school thing. 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 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 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 mind go hand and hand. It put me a step ahead of everyone else. The mind is a very beautiful thing. Use it wisely.
All rights reserved, Copyright 2010, Aija M. Butler
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Well Beyond Our Means
Working and feeling great about it material things seemed to over whelm my inner database. When I was out of work, I thought logically about ways in which to spend our families monthly earnings. As we knew that it had to last us threw the month. Once the money began to come easy. Budgeting our finances went straight out the window.
We started to live beyond our means. Living with in comfort would have been the logical thing to do. However, those wants that were listed on our refrigerator were now at arms reach and we couldn’t see past the greed. We had the means to live beyond our usual comfort zone, and we took advantage of the situation instead of investing our riches in to long-term ventures.
Those dreams of security and stability were possible; but instead of purchasing one family car we purchased two. Instead of getting a home that would accommodate us comfortably at a decent price. We bought a home with more rooms needed. At a much higher price that we could not afford in the event one of us lost our cushy jobs.
Plan accordingly not only to your individual paths plans and visions; but as a family. Look to the future to gain and not have to return. Whether it be returning items to the store to get necessity’s. Or back pedaling to where you had managed to escape.
Pushing forward means, that you are adding steps to your ladder of success. Mistakes are to be made, but as I said before make these mistakes life experience that we learn from.
Myself and hubby had way beyond our means at one point and time. We allowed the look and feel of money to steal our dreams of comfort. Now that we have learned, we are on a true path of success. In which we and our children reap the benefits there of.
We started to live beyond our means. Living with in comfort would have been the logical thing to do. However, those wants that were listed on our refrigerator were now at arms reach and we couldn’t see past the greed. We had the means to live beyond our usual comfort zone, and we took advantage of the situation instead of investing our riches in to long-term ventures.
Those dreams of security and stability were possible; but instead of purchasing one family car we purchased two. Instead of getting a home that would accommodate us comfortably at a decent price. We bought a home with more rooms needed. At a much higher price that we could not afford in the event one of us lost our cushy jobs.
Plan accordingly not only to your individual paths plans and visions; but as a family. Look to the future to gain and not have to return. Whether it be returning items to the store to get necessity’s. Or back pedaling to where you had managed to escape.
Pushing forward means, that you are adding steps to your ladder of success. Mistakes are to be made, but as I said before make these mistakes life experience that we learn from.
Myself and hubby had way beyond our means at one point and time. We allowed the look and feel of money to steal our dreams of comfort. Now that we have learned, we are on a true path of success. In which we and our children reap the benefits there of.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
After The Storm
Life after the storm is much like the quiet just before the storm hits. We don’t know how hard it will hit or what kind of damage our earthly possessions will sustain, but there is no running from it. Life happens, in scenes. Like a movie it jumps back and forth from character to character. Life’s changing adventures take place and we don’t know where and when or how bad or good the outcome will be; but we roll with the punches.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Age Appropriate
I was sitting in the living room watching the kids at play. I noticed that the entire group of residents, were having a ball. My nose raised high to the sky.
I was irritated at best. The fact that the adults were engaging in such activity, was so irresponsible. I fought back the screams. I was close to tearing the whole lot of them from limb to limb. What idiots they were. Laughing joking having fun.
You see my point yet. Here is another. Last eve the family and myself were quietly enjoying a movie. Oh what peace, you could literally here a pen drop. The wonders of the movie "Toy Story," are amazing. I ran out and picked up every sequel. You could hear nothing, but small bits of laughter, and the crunch of popcorn munching in their little mouths.
About an hour into the movie, we heard some yelling just outside the door. It took one leap, from the couch just to watch the folk yelling and threatening to end one anothers lives. Everyone else stood at their doors in awe as well. Such madness! I choose to participate in, but the noise of the family and children screaming aggrevated me so.
The age appropriate thing to do was to perhaps call the authoritys. The noise was sheer disturbance of the peace. Althought the yelling in the home was abit much, no one was in danger. Its ok to relax once in a while.
Tonight is completely different for once in a long time. The noise is well over the civilized level. The children have no desire to abide by the rules. Inside voices don't seem to exist, and my smile is vividly bright. I found it age appropriate to spend some time with my family. I also found it fulfilling to enjoy the laughter and join in the fun.
It sure was far more age appropriate than to stand idly by and watch two adults embarrass themselves and their familys by fighting in the streets. I think its also age appropriate to know when its time to check yourself, and stand up for whats and right and wrong.
I checked myself about my irritation at good wholesome fun, and the ignorance of street fighting. It was needed, and the age appropriate thing to do.
I was irritated at best. The fact that the adults were engaging in such activity, was so irresponsible. I fought back the screams. I was close to tearing the whole lot of them from limb to limb. What idiots they were. Laughing joking having fun.
You see my point yet. Here is another. Last eve the family and myself were quietly enjoying a movie. Oh what peace, you could literally here a pen drop. The wonders of the movie "Toy Story," are amazing. I ran out and picked up every sequel. You could hear nothing, but small bits of laughter, and the crunch of popcorn munching in their little mouths.
About an hour into the movie, we heard some yelling just outside the door. It took one leap, from the couch just to watch the folk yelling and threatening to end one anothers lives. Everyone else stood at their doors in awe as well. Such madness! I choose to participate in, but the noise of the family and children screaming aggrevated me so.
The age appropriate thing to do was to perhaps call the authoritys. The noise was sheer disturbance of the peace. Althought the yelling in the home was abit much, no one was in danger. Its ok to relax once in a while.
Tonight is completely different for once in a long time. The noise is well over the civilized level. The children have no desire to abide by the rules. Inside voices don't seem to exist, and my smile is vividly bright. I found it age appropriate to spend some time with my family. I also found it fulfilling to enjoy the laughter and join in the fun.
It sure was far more age appropriate than to stand idly by and watch two adults embarrass themselves and their familys by fighting in the streets. I think its also age appropriate to know when its time to check yourself, and stand up for whats and right and wrong.
I checked myself about my irritation at good wholesome fun, and the ignorance of street fighting. It was needed, and the age appropriate thing to do.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Breaking Point
I am close to the edge. My feet keep slipping off the curb. The pavement is wet. I can almost feel the concrete hitting my face before falling. The blow knocks me against a wall of glass. The glass doesnt break just yet, but its cracked. My hands are bloody. There are bits of glass burried into the palms of my hands. They resemble small diamond crystals glistening into the suns light.
Even though the space on the curb was large enough for me to walk freely, something was forcibly pushing me to the edge. I was so tired the tears welled in my eyes and my palms clinched into a tight fist. I was so angry I hadnt noticed the glass sinking further into my blood stream. The glass embedded into my palms was now a permanant part of my anatomy. I was nearing the end. The lights came on. I was fluttering around like a fish out of water. I awoke from a trance, I was on staged. I didnt know how I'd got there, but the lights were so bright, they blinded me. My audience stood, and with great joy from my performance they all stood and began to clap. My performance was grand. The roses fell at my feet. The ground was in plain view. Confused and disorientated I stepped towards the edge of the stage once more. I squinted and blinked hard twice the room spun in circles. I couldnt stand all the noise. I began to shake my head and rub my face.
The glass in my hands cut me open. I was surpised by the fresh taste of blood. I thought this was all an act. A part in a play. Instead perhaps I was the puppet. I was breaking now. My face became still and my painted lips began to stain with blood. My tears glowed in the dark, and my hands sparkled as i held them high towards the light.
The glass solidified in my face, and begun to crack. As the hardening took affect, I became startled, but before I could panic my heart and soul froze like stone. I was looked inside and I couldnt fight or scream for help. Seconds later after my mummbling screams turned to a faint whisper. A operatic scream filled the theater. The sound resounding vibrantly across the audience, and well onto the stage.
My glass frame began to shake. I began to sway to and fro, as the voice approached near. An angry face appeared into the light. Screaming, laughing, and pushing me with her voice. I fell to the ground. I shattered into pieces. My breaking point had come to a head. It had destroyed me, and all that i was worth.
She fell back laughing and gloating at her accomplishments. She was a miserable soul, and took great pride in the lives she stole and destroyed. My eye froze in one of the pieces of broken glass. She caught site of the glistening piece of my wounded frame, and held it close. It lay in the palm of her hands.
With every fiber of my being, broken soul, and mind. I muster up the last excreting passions of life and closed my eye. I would not her the satisfaction of looking into my tear felt eye. She was an abomination to my soul. I had reached my breaking point, because she so visiousiously pushed me over the edge.
If I had the chance again I woud fight. I would turn the tables, and expose her plans from the start. I wavered and I held on, but as she grew close to me, I froze. Instead of attempting for move out of her wraths direction, I stood and held my ground. I didn't coware away, but I didn't fight either.
What will you allow to be your breaking point? My worst enemy is me.
Even though the space on the curb was large enough for me to walk freely, something was forcibly pushing me to the edge. I was so tired the tears welled in my eyes and my palms clinched into a tight fist. I was so angry I hadnt noticed the glass sinking further into my blood stream. The glass embedded into my palms was now a permanant part of my anatomy. I was nearing the end. The lights came on. I was fluttering around like a fish out of water. I awoke from a trance, I was on staged. I didnt know how I'd got there, but the lights were so bright, they blinded me. My audience stood, and with great joy from my performance they all stood and began to clap. My performance was grand. The roses fell at my feet. The ground was in plain view. Confused and disorientated I stepped towards the edge of the stage once more. I squinted and blinked hard twice the room spun in circles. I couldnt stand all the noise. I began to shake my head and rub my face.
The glass in my hands cut me open. I was surpised by the fresh taste of blood. I thought this was all an act. A part in a play. Instead perhaps I was the puppet. I was breaking now. My face became still and my painted lips began to stain with blood. My tears glowed in the dark, and my hands sparkled as i held them high towards the light.
The glass solidified in my face, and begun to crack. As the hardening took affect, I became startled, but before I could panic my heart and soul froze like stone. I was looked inside and I couldnt fight or scream for help. Seconds later after my mummbling screams turned to a faint whisper. A operatic scream filled the theater. The sound resounding vibrantly across the audience, and well onto the stage.
My glass frame began to shake. I began to sway to and fro, as the voice approached near. An angry face appeared into the light. Screaming, laughing, and pushing me with her voice. I fell to the ground. I shattered into pieces. My breaking point had come to a head. It had destroyed me, and all that i was worth.
She fell back laughing and gloating at her accomplishments. She was a miserable soul, and took great pride in the lives she stole and destroyed. My eye froze in one of the pieces of broken glass. She caught site of the glistening piece of my wounded frame, and held it close. It lay in the palm of her hands.
With every fiber of my being, broken soul, and mind. I muster up the last excreting passions of life and closed my eye. I would not her the satisfaction of looking into my tear felt eye. She was an abomination to my soul. I had reached my breaking point, because she so visiousiously pushed me over the edge.
If I had the chance again I woud fight. I would turn the tables, and expose her plans from the start. I wavered and I held on, but as she grew close to me, I froze. Instead of attempting for move out of her wraths direction, I stood and held my ground. I didn't coware away, but I didn't fight either.
What will you allow to be your breaking point? My worst enemy is me.
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Purse Club
Well in my adult age, I decided that as a Woman, while it is important to maintain loving and social relationships, it is also important to be aware of the company that you keep. Just as the glory days of high school and frat and sorer life; we still fall under the spell of following trends.
Sadly, some of those trends aren't the best suited to up hold our reputation. Even those of us leading aren't always leading the pack toward positivistic arenas of enrichment.
The Purse Club breeds new light, and meaning, to those we call girlfriends, our confidants, our power-puff party goers, gossip girl groups, our “Dawg’s,” some of our urban Sista’s may say.
The Purse club we’ve developed in my hometown has no particular dress code, hair style, or minimal economic status. The only thing we ask of you is, is that you uphold a level of respect and poise that would suggest that you value not only the lives of others; but most and for most your very own.
We ask that your character display the essence of a Woman of high moral fiber, with belief systems and or values, which ever those may be, be a true reflection of you. In other words we ask that you be about what you speak, and speak only what you know to be true.
This group of women are far from perfect, but recognize the need for growth and reflection as the years pass and the soul becomes tainted by the misfortunes of the world. The purse has no monthly dues, or membership fee. The only requirement of this organization is that you carry your own purse. There is no President or selection of members delegated to make decisions over the whole group. Our purse’s convene together on matters that affect directly. We also keep a close eye on those issues indirectly related to us in the present; but may ruffle our feathers in the future.
“Your Own Purse,” in this guild of individuals has many meanings. “The Purse,” has many tricks of trade and emergency supply’s for survival. As an avid member and believer of this club I prefer that prior to joining you make sure to tend to the affairs of your heart, soul, and mind. This will enable you to carry your purse more efficiently. We must be sure to remove all excess baggage. This is not to say that you as individual member of this group, you will be left in the winds to carry your burdens to shore alone. This is simply stating that baggage that may stifle you from success, should be left at the door.
There are enough haters, in this world to keep you down. We can not be sure of haters that may have leaked into the confines of our sacred domain. Another essential I recommend you carry in your purse is humility. Know that all things are possible through Christ Jesus, and while we hoop and holler when we have achieved our goals, we must first remember the Creator and all that he has bestowed upon us. We will not tolerate arrogance, greed, and/or selfishness.
We must be sure to know that having direction and drive is not a selfish act. You must also carry your own wallet. In it there must be some form of financial backing to your personal endeavors. While the members of the purse club will be sure to help in times of economic hardship, each member individually must carry their purses. In our purses we will carry wisdom, in the form of life experience. These tools of trade we use to overcome the burdens of career, family, and parenting. We must be willing to share and mentor to those that our new to our circle.
Sadly some women will become dispassionate and opposed to joining such a group that looks to raise awareness and self esteem. Unfortunately, this, type of connection is frowned upon. Even though acceptance and the development of healthy connections is politically correct, and mentioned in a wide range of campaigns across the board.
Everyone has a flag raised in protest of something, good or bad, the highlight of acceptance is dully noted and widely protected. For we must all belong to some group in order to be considered a part of the majority. The minority vote is often only sought during election season.
For Women today young and old the social media encourages, ideas of perfection, and places stigmas on women, that choose to work in certain professions that are respectable lines of work, but are not traditional.
Furthermore, the opposite sex approves the exploitation of women, but would not elect to marry such persons that are participants thereof. Understandably so, young women find it hard to find their place in this world. Disheveled and bitter, most of our interactions with others both professional and recreational must receive the stamp of approval.
We become jealous of one another. We choose to put one another down, in order to make ourselves acceptable. Instead of embracing one another the species of Women become world renown competitors. Body image and the perfection there of in the eyes of the media become our main priority’s. Thus we suffer, on a quest to achieve the look, that is said to be the look of popular opinion and road to success.
Most recently, there was an inquiry called to my attention in regards to the policies of the Purse Club. Questions about our rights and responsibilities act, in regards to our membership policy were raised.
Again, I will state that there is no such thing. We accept women of all race and economical hierarchy’s. What we prefer are those individuals that uphold respectability. Now, there is one issue upon which we shy upon, and it has been called to our attention that the Purse Club is not one of free will. While we don’t knock the walks of others lives particularly women in this case, does not mean we have to condone them.
The Purse Club was founded to protect the rights and character of Women. It was also invented as a way for us to get together and release our troubles, laugh at our many faults, flaws, and share the stories of our lives and our children’s humorous ventures with others that share the shame interests and concerns.
In order for us to maintain the premise that we commune to unite the forces of good within our Gender we must draw a line somewhere. This line is not one in permanent ink. This doesn’t meant that your fate of joining this group has been denied or withdrawn. It simply means as stated above that prior to joining this alliance, we would like each individual soul to be whole. In complete understanding of her path, and not only willing to forgive others; but willing to forgive herself. Holding high her head and her purse.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
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