we are grooming this culture to be too sensitive
Before I go remember, everything is everything, show love, give love, receive love, be love. Stay positive, laugh a lot and have fun. But don’t forget to handle your bidness.
God is love. Rev Run….lmao
Be good y’all.
MY BROTHER TEXTED A RADIO STATION TO GIVE A SHOUTOUT AND THE RADIO STATION ACTUALLY READ IT OUT AND IT WAS “GREAT DAY AT THE BEACH WITH MY GIRL FROM HEYWOOD JABLOMI” AND THEY READ IT ALOUD AND THE ENTIRE RADIO WENT DEAD FOR A FEW SECONDS BECAUSE THEY REALIZED WHAT THEY SAID I’M LAUGHING SO FUCKING HARD
Shit i’ve done at work
I demand a picture… Of a deer in the woods. Particularly Bambi.
Make me Bambi.
What talents are you offering if I draw that for you?! 😳
My talented ways of poetic complimenting.
In the midst of the sea I find a pool below an open breeze.
Waving away so graciously, it was on it’s own, and it greatly okay to be.
Beautiful sea creatures were welcomed in this pool; only its calmness and kindness forever ruled.
Because this pool was a beauty that did not conform to the rushing and the moving of the big sea’s norm.
It was something like a natural disaster in the most peaceful kind and to be its own was the only thought it had in mind.
To say it was just beautiful, I’d be saying it unjustly; maybe one day I’ll find this pool in the midst of me.
Boom - where is my Bambi?
But, was it off the top?
getting my tattoo… “love is a weapon”
I love my shoes..
depending on my outfit or mood, I have a variety of sexy and stylish shoes to choose from. I have the royal blue, satin stilettos with the six inch heel; when worn takes my 5’ frame to 5’6 in less than 10 seconds, the patent leather peep toe stillettos that I purchased earlier this year from Aldo’s, my warm and cozy Uggs, with the copper colored leather that remind me of a tarnished penny ,…or my latest acquisition and favorite pair out of the entire bunch… the cheetah print ankle booties with a wedge heel! I own over 79 pairs of shoes, all stacked neatly in my closet, according to color and style.
But, way in the back of the closet, where only the skeletons and cobwebs dwell, I own another pair of shoes that I’ve found myself wearing; even more often then the cheetah print booties,more than the royal blue stillettos that give my legs the illusion of being longer than they are, more than the peeptoes, that show off my perfect pedicure..These are my “Relationship running shoes”… as of lately, they’ve been moved from the back of my closet to the foot of my bed, where late night conversations take place and excuses are made as of to why I cant be with her or love her like she needs me to. I dont need help strapping them at the ankle, like the red Jeffery Campbell wedges that I own…
No need for the extra pair of hands that I often require to pull on the coveted Chestnut colored suede knee high boots.. Sadly, I solicit no assistance with my running shoes; they slide on with ease, go with every oufit, and can be worn in any weather. While wearing them tightly laced, I let excuses slip from my lips, like shoes that are too big sliding from the feet of the child playing dress up in mommy’s heels. Looking for an open road, crouching down knees bent, right leg slightly extended in front of the other ready to bolt like Hussein… afraid that if I dont run faster, some how, I’ll lose. Eventually, she ‘ll grow weary of chasing me and the excuses will fall on deaf ears. She’ll no longer be in the stands waiting for the race to end… I guess it becomes boring watching a race with only one runner. But, I need her to understand that I dont put on these shoes to look taller, or show off my perfect pedi, they’re not worn to stay warm or ahead of the fashion curve; I wear these shoes to protect my heart. Fearing that if I take them off, I’ll slow down and love will catch me; sometimes with love comes pain, pain that is worse than the ache of cramped toes brought on from wearing shoes that are too small… because hey, they go with that dress I’d just bought… You see, I cant soak my heart in a bath of Epson salt and warm water, like tired feet.
Dr. Scholls hasn’t made an insole I can wear to make heartbreak more comfortable. I’ve taken off these shoes before & for almost 2 years they collected dust. I’d become used to them hiding in the back of my closet where only the skeletons and cobwebs dwell, but the pain that often time comes with love was able to catch up to me. I couldn’t get to my shoes fast enough to run and ended up getting hurt. So for now, I keep my running shoes at the foot of the bed where late night conversations end in pleas for more time.
But as excuses slip from my lips like shoes that are too big, sliding from the child’s feet playing dress up in mommy’s heels, and fall on deaf ears.. .all I can do is pray that she’s in the stands waiting for me when the race ends.
Because afterall, it must get boring watching a race with only one runner…