Just Because

This morning was *ungood; it was difficult. The afternoon was rewarding. 

Memorial Day, Origins

Memorial Day began w/formerly enslaved blacks 

honoring their dead, the Union Soldiets, that gave their lives in battle. 

(circa. May 1865) Charleston, South Carolina

IG: @sineca.tsai, Model Life, Maggie, Inc.

#SinecaTsai #DopeArt #photographers #model #pictureoftheday #photooftheday #FactsOnly #Dope #Boston #PhotoOfTheDay ❤️ #AgentProvocateur #Future #love #HesReady #Boston #ThisIsJustTheBeginning #Versatile #ModelLife #BlackMenSmiling #Joy #HesGotTheLook #Menofinstagram #blog #family #mylife #Model ❤️ #6FtTall #Photogenic 

This is 47.

My own Monday Motivation: #DoDopeShyt and keep your secrets sacred.

Be. Dope. And. Do. Dope. Shyt*.

*Writer’s license.

I’m Tired but It’s Well Hidden

I’m not number one to anyone, anymore but my own self and I’m fairly certain that I never was number one and that’s ok. It’s ok because this means I don’t have any responsibility to anyone, which is strange, but no one has any responsibility toward me either. This is not new to me, even though in my heart of hearts I would like to believe that at one point I was number one to someone.

I was not. And I have minimal regrets on that one.

Now, I could go into detail but I’m not in the going-into-detail mood. But if I don’t speak this out it could fester. When I allow that kind of pain, it doesn’t end well for me and I know my heart; I must...no one else cares to, and those aren’t words to either revel in or begin a pity party for, it simply is.

The truth is that I prefer this right now to the alternative, which is disingenuous. On the first day of law school I was informed that the life of a legal eagle was a soloist trek unless the life we lived had more meat than fat. The fat will be trimmed We were warned. It was, and I am better for it left with a tougher sort of meat that I prefer to see as muscle* 😂. 

If you’re here right now you probably read my "Recurring Themes" post and so you understand that there is no longer a best-friend to share these things with and my very close friends, that are still best friends, just not like, ¡HER!, are living different lives and my existence is supporting cast.

I am no star in these roles...even though I totally look the part 😏...

Who am I to expect someone to understand my life and its goings-on as I understand theirs? They’ve never lived my existence and they are not empathic or unicorn-souled or mermaid-like.

It’s not their fault**.

And I’m tired. Not in these photos, because public and private personas differ.

I’m tired y’all. Of everyone and everything and I’m shutting off, going down deep, being silent and solo for a short bit.

It’s what I call - Underground. 

It’s what I do to reignite my soul.

I’m tired of waiting for people to get up to speed.

I’m tired of giving people the benefit of the doubt and being disappointed.

I’m tired of being people’s last thought, consideration, focus. 

I’m tired of people.

And

I need to disappear.

* Goal weight of 129lbs accomplished.

** Yes it is...understanding is a choice.

Recurring Themes

I’ve never lived alone.

So, I’ve never truly been lonely.

But, I’ve always been within a troupe.

I’ve always had a HIM and;

I’ve always had a best-friend.

Always. 

Someone that knows me, one that does not judge.

And now I have neither.

I haven’t been this single since I was 12.

And still

I’m not alone...,

Having no bestfriend and having no HIM,

Is, at the most inopportune moments - #LonelyAsF

And, I am learning to move solo.

It’s better than the alternative I chose.

And I choose to remember.

Everything I lost was worth the nothing I have,

It was worth it.

This. Too. Shall. Pass.

         Recurring. Themes.

And...

This beauty had a beautiful baby boy on December 12, 1988. It was one of the very best days of my entire life. 

The trajectory of my life was shifted when I made this choice. I made decisions that were to benefit his life and in turn, mine. Because he WAS mine. My very own little boy, I had hoped he would replace the sinkhole that was left by his uncle, Marco, my first little angel.

...this beautiful Angel would be the salve to the pain and that pain became more and more numb. And he still is.

My life hadn’t been the easiest to live before he was born; he gave me purpose. And he was a purposeful decision. Were people angry with me? Well, of course. But those people did not live in my head and my heart, they didn’t see my vision. They were unaware that his life was more important than mine. Those people had no idea I was on edge and not sure if I was going to make it across the divide. They saw things from their own angle...how my decisions effected them; not how my decisions effected me. 

Therein lies the difference between me and most other individuals. I look at how people are fairing from their angle. How they are hurting from their point of view. And, I’m thankful that I was given this powerful gift because I understand whether I agree or not.

I was mad at God, my parents - biological and otherwise, and my friends for having what looked like much better lives. I was frustrated at school for being the utmost of non-challenging and beneath my brain capacity, and I was mad at myself for just not caring enough about anything but the one decision I regret beyond all other decisions.

And my son was the one beacon of light throughout all of the darkness. He created the vestibule by which only the chosen one*, or two...or three may have crossed. Who could have created this kind of narthex but an absolute higher being? He left the place in disarray but his presence made up for that cataclysmic onslaught.

And with that in mind, I wanted more of the joy that his little life brought mine.

And so, the little girl I always wanted to be, Jazzmyn Angelique ,was born. The most beautiful girl in the whole wide world, who has my eyes, her very own every single thing else and then my heart to boot, chose me to be her vessel and because of her, I suddenly realized who I was and what I wanted and why I wanted it. Each bit of her life from the start was a quiet storm. She never cried or complained but had so much to cry and complain about. And although her voice is nigh her soul screams to the highest note. She will simmer until she boils and you will roil with her; on her terms.

I rolled the dice one more time and again, Lady Luck was on my side. I could have had more kids, I would have loved having more kids, truth be told...but mentally, financially, existentially I just could not muster the wherewithal, it wasn’t always the right time 😒. This little spirit, though this tiny little Mohican would close the portal for good...who could possibly make an appearance after Sineca Tsai? 

I am used to being the oddball, in typical situations. Truthfully, I revel in it. It works for me because I know my lane and I enjoy the life I live. 

This isn’t new to me, this sore-thumb sticking out sort of thing. I was a cute kid. People noticed me early on in life. I’m not being boastful. I had no control over the choices my free-loving, flower-power parental units made. I am thankful for the outcome, however the Universe came to together for their stories to collide and create the SuperNova that is me. #Blessed. 

But it’s not the highlight of my life, my unique physical makeup.

It. Just. Is.

Anyway, I mentioned my cuteness as a child because people tend to think attention is what good-looking people seek. I assure you, it is the opposite. 

It seemed odd to strangers that I happened to look a certain way. Carrying hereditary combinations in my genetic Gumbo from ancestral deoxyribonucleic acid was foreign to the white-space of Bostonians, in the year of y’all’s Lord Nineteen Hundred Seventy. People handed me dolls in restaurants and bought me different gifts and trinkets in toy stores, gave me lollipops walking down the street and chocolates at neighborhood parks. I remember being happy and grateful; always polite because Miss Rena is Mississippi bred and she plays none of those games, but I was also aware that I received different treatment, it was normal to me.

I grew up being called Black Beauty, Princess, Baby Girl, Sweetheart, My Heart, Chocolate Girl, Encyclopedia Brown, Beautiful, Baby Doll, Mami, Mi Amor**.

And because of that, if I’m treated otherwise: I. Am. Gobsmacked. #WhenOppositesCollide #KnowYourWorth 

I never saw myself as less than, I’ve never had low-self esteem although I have been despondent and deeply depressed at times. I’ve never expected to be treated unkind, never realized a person could feel so low about themselves that they purposely hurt another. And, I’ve tried desperately to walk in those tiny, sad shoes, even though the pain of doing such caused untold grief.

The foolishness of some minds astound me. Still.

But, iRise 😏. 

I said all of this to say: I was an anomaly most of my life and because it has carried itself with me for the last 47 years, me thinks the next 47 shall be the same. 

I like me, even though I almost lost myself in someone else, I like her, too because she’s caring and put others before herself. But the Me of me is here now. 

I like me because I know me just like I did when I was getting to know the world.

And it took a while but, the Beauty that is black, is back.

*Insert shameless adoration for - The Chosen Won - on iTunes by none other than the very one I speak of, the artist formerly known as #KashThaOvadose: K.OD.

**...and Creep, which did not fit with these cutesy names, but not because of the typical creep-mode definition, but because of my stealth-like Modus Operandi...or the fact that I popped up at the most inopportune moments according to the parental units.

#CatchMeIfYouCan

Some women will roll your blunt perfectly, in the fashion you choose, pour your drink; shaken not stirred and keep the house you share neat as a pin. #iAmNotShe 

Others will build you, help you find your soul; your self, and your Empire from the ground up by supporting your goals and dreams. #ThisIsMe

The lucky women are able to do it all; I am not lucky. #iAmGifted

I am the Other kind of other. #OtherThanThat 

I got them goals & dreams, too. #Savage

‘Cuz being a good girl didn’t get me anywhere but lost. #BlackGirlFound

It’s your turn now. #FindMe

In Honor of the Crescent Moon

I. Am. Light. & I. Am. Love.

Moving forward with your goals and dreams is how you regain your own strength.

#Power.

iAm. Here. For. It.

It’s Not Easy Being Me

I am, by no means, complaining about my life. Although I am not exactly where I would like to be, I think my life is beautiful right now, but that’s not what I came here to say.

What I came here to say is that there is really no one I can mentally count on; look to; receive support from; answers; seeds of knowledge, etc., the way I used to be able to count on.

Or the way that I deserve, truth be told because I am that person for others:

Now let me say for the record, the very small circle that I have, they love me and I love them right back. Deeply. Truly. Eternally.

The issue is not the love or respect from friends or family, the issue is I lived a completely different life than almost everyone that I know and the unfortunate part of that is that they can’t help me. They don’t know how...

And that’s painful.

And that’s hurtful.

And that’s frustrating.

And it reminds me that, I am, in fact, on my own.

I don’t expect anyone to be able to solve any issue that I have going on, that’s not the reason for the frustration, I prefer to solve my own issues. The reason for the frustration is that there is no one on this planet that gets me. Sometimes, all I need is to talk to someone trustworthy who doesn’t judge me because I don’t judge others. Sometimes, I just want to let it out, in a safe space. 

And what I let out are particles of life that people have never had the pleasure or the pain to deal with in their own experiences so it is completely unfamiliar to them. It is foreign. 

I am foreign.

To them.

They don’t get me.

I am not like the others.

I have never been like the others, anyone who knows me is aware of the difference between me and anyone else they’ve ever met. This isn’t my being boastful, because I have some really odd things about my person, and I own every inch of that oddity. I am #Weird and that’s ok.

I do things differently.

I think of things differently. 

I live my life differently. 

I love thoroughly, differently.

But today...today I hurt. 

Differently.

Because there is no one and I have lost the wherewithal to seek reinforcements. Ever again.

And.

So. 

I.

Write.

                  Here.

And somehow, just like that, by writing it out, the fallen pieces liquified at my feet, have begun to solidify and the foundation is becoming more solid.

I am more solid.

And I don’t need you chipping away at those pieces to build a different me. 

And I see now that I never did.

And.

So.

I.

Thank.

You.

For.

Your.

Lack.