Walter Williams.

call me crazy, but Walter Williams makes lots of sense. a lot of the shit he says deserves the side eye, but dude has good points. His blinking bothers me OD though. argh.
YouTube him. he just made what I believe sound smarter. he also kinda makes it seem ignorant at certain points too. Oh Well.

le header.

i just realized what photo is in my header.smfh. i was maddd toasted that day. it will be changed soon. i functioned quite well though. because idk how to change it now. *le sigh. this blog WILL be the longer version of my recently deleted twitter & facebook. i'll be back on though. in September. the only people that can contact me are those i like. i was on FB & Twitter as if i ACTUALLY networked with niggas. smh. but yeah. i need to find a photo to replace my current header.
the silly heart bra though Hilly? and the tongue out though? was that supposed to be SEXY? smfh... i'm such a crumbled piece of toast bread when i drink too much and second hand smoke the piffington. smh. i should find something relevant to rant about. tomorrow. or whenever i get back on this.

photo. afro

my afro has gotten quite large. i want to take photos with her. her name is Chaka. last name Zulu. she never listens to me. she's that resistant diva that her name suggests. i want a dope ass camera a yellow dress and a pick. make me smile too. i like photos lots. despite how fat i have gotten. photos are always nice. my smiles are always awkward & i always love the camera more than it loves me.but OH WELL. an afropicked photoshoot, WILL work.
i also want someone to tickle my feet for some random reason.
i want to laugh from the bottom of my guts.
dislocate my gall bladder and shit.
i want that photo to be taken in black and white.
make the moment pure. if i wanted it PURE pure, i'd make it all white.
sprinkle some yayo on it. [that's what they call coke right?]
but i want my face to be showing.so it'd have to be a segregated type photo.
i like how i look like pure oil in black and whites.
where's my brother & his dope ass Nikon & shit.
lucky bastard. nice ass camera in the face type niggaroach.
where is anyone in this world with a nice ass camera?

what the frinky tinks!?

i was completely cool about breaking out into hives. i was like ok, sensitive ass skin ain't no THANG. but now shit wanna get disrespectful and climb to my face?! "i'm cute for a dark skinned girl". they're about to take that away. now my face looks chubby as if i'm not already overweight enough. just FML. i'm so superficial that i can't even study that well. oh lawd. oh my goodness. superficial me.
Despicable ME. imma def see that this summer.
i'm gonna do a lot this summer. at least that's what i'm saying NOW.
just, my FACE though?! & i can't scratch it because i refuse to be ugly & scarred on the outside. i'm cool with the inside oogliness.i can work on that when i'm 90 & dying. but my face though?! ahhh!

*GLARES at psych book. its a blob. tries not to itch. holds back tears.

random rant about men. which are many.

falling in love has never been my thing. & falling into beds is getting a bit boring. penises get less and less fun to ride after you realize all they are is a bunch of weird ass erectile tissue that niggas piss from. i think i'll just TRY to cut dudes off. i really don't understand why its hard. i don't even LIKE men. no, i am not gay, but being straight has never benefitted my heart much either. i think i'll read "Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice" again. when i realized everyone was just human, regardless of what they liked. then i read "Roots" when i realized a lot of people don't even give a fuck about that, regardless of history. AND 'That Time' has been in my head FOREVER. so cheap & JUICY! smh. oh well.

i always thought, that being pretty was always too much work. i was always kinda secretly happy i was never cookie cutter pretty. i was always that ugly one with the really big fucked up smile but i smiled pretty lol. being ugly kinda makes you have to look reallllllly deep for a pretty feature about yourself. then you end up appreciating yourself even more. for example, i'm a big fan of my own breasts. though not large, they indeed are pretty :)i won't put a picture of them up here, but my face, i always found ugly. which makes it super dope in my eyes. like, what the fuck is pretty? other girls can have fun with THAT shit. ugly is IN now a days. like, where the fuck ARE you guys?

my hair looks like the surroundings of a sheep's fassssssy holeee. it's fucking dope though. sheep are dumb motherfuckers anyway. whats the use of them. the clothes their hair makes is itchy as fuck. Jesus may have had an afro. doesn't the Bible say some shit like that? i wonder if he had a dope ass pick? hmmmm. well, thanks asses of sheep. for allowing my hair to jock your swag. we MAJOR. Major Lazer. Pon De Floor type shit. dedehdididididdedoooo. unexplainable, but you dancing anyways, right? yeah, that's how my afro does shit. my afro. says FTW.

you look like that man i kissed gently on the fingertips of my grandmother. you seem delicate & make me more comfortable in awkward moments. i wish words would have been exchanged. instead of an awkward 'its ok.' i wish i could tell you exactly whats on my mind. you look like the secret i've told someone, the only person that i've told this fact that i'm no longer friends with. you hope i can swallow your words. i wish my esophagus was able to handle hers. i miss her. i've heard you speak. you're beautiful when you speak. you're beautiful. you're beautiful. i think i would allow myself to fall in love with you. maybe. i want to kiss each individual nerve ending on your lips to let them know that they're special. to tell them thank you for making my heart full. yes, i'm a psycho. yes, i have memorized one of your works. yes, i'm in love with your voice. yes, i'm just a Staten Island girl that HATES words. but they're not so bad when you speak.

rantttttt.

i am not a poet. i am not a poet & i do not write poetry. i hate words. i hate words just like you may hate me. i hate words. my nail polish is a reddish pink. reddish pink, oh yeah reddish pink like that unhealthy vagina you learn about in health class. i'm glad my vagina doesn't look like my nail polish. i hate words. i hate random shit like this i hate words. i hate poetry. i hate it because i dream about it & it never talks back i hate poetry. i'm wearing a plaid mans shirt. i hate femininity. fuck you God for making my body the epitome of femininity. don't fuck you God because you get virgins pregnant. God you're delicious. yes, fuck you God. i am not a woman. because my vagina its misbehaved & will capture any private it likes. its powerful, i listen. she's a kinky bitch. she'd yell at me if i didnt give her what she wanted, i'm not a woman. a braid fell out. ugh a braid fell out because my afro is too short for this weave. i dream of big Jackson 5 afros. i do not dream. fuck dreams. vivid imaginations are dope though. i'm a 5'7 172 pound house filled of it. yes, that poem sucked. i'm well aware. fuck poems. fuck words. i'm not a poet, or a woman, and i have a healthy vagina. yah.

SOOOO, i'm here. In my Cognitive Psychology class pretending I give a fuck about what this guy is talking about. In my daydreams I see a whole bunch of shit. Right now me & Thelonious Monk are playing Numbers on top of a piano, I'm still dreaming about being the crease in that guys elbow, [I'll be over that fantasy soon enough] & i'm thinking about 2009. That year, I thought there would be a major change because I was graduating HS, going into college, etc, etc. But it really wasn't. I met a dude that ended up HATING & wasting my time with. I smoked weed for the first time & drunk myself into oblivion on many occassions. I also did a lot of things i ended up regretting. However, I did something I thought I would regret and I really did not. Which was shocking, because I beat myself up over everything. Right now, I still feel awkward and certain things in my life I think are changing me for the less open, & i HATE IT. but I still remember that one thing. And i don't feel bad, or feel that i SHOULD feel bad. I'm so awkward, it's painful. & i'm starting to miss people. which is bothersome because i hate people. Hating to miss people is soo much worse than my hatred of people in general. Oh well, I guess I should get back to pretending to pay attention. Even though I'm daydreaming of molesting a chick with a huge afro & large knockers. [mind you, i'm straight] much love. later on i'll tell you how the Wernicke's Area helped me write this pointless ass blog.

I say a big t( ' ' )t to capitalism.

staten island.

like seriously, out of ALL boroughs my parents could have chose to live in, they decide to choose this one. there is absolutely NOTHING here.. i took a long bus ride today and realized how desolate this place truly is.. i can't wait to leave.. i'm gonna be living here for the next 4 years so i better find some good friends, a good place to chill or a good, inexpensive apartment.. whichever comes first.. having all would be great though.



this sign is pretty dope. too bad its not even ON staten island .::sigh::.

nina simone.

high priestess of soul. she never wanted her music categorized. she's a legend because she deserves to be, not because a lot of people know her name or story [ie. biggie.. much love though.]


only a person of her calibur during the height of he civil rights movement can say "desegregation is a joke." & get away with it.

nina. rip.

def poetry jam.

some good spoken word footage from def poetry jam poets. i was just watching some today cuz i was bored.. & these tickled my fancy :)

















i'm not puerto rican.. but yeah.. :)





more hood than i usually like, but talented none the less.

stones throw.

for dah past 2 years a record label known as stones throw has caught my eye immensely. artists like J Dilla, Quasimoto, Madlib, Madvillain, MF Doom, Penut Butter Wolf just to name a few have won my hearts. i mean, if u neva heard of J Dilla, you must NEVER go out. like seriously. & quasimoto is under appreciated. i know, dah voice machine thingy is annoying, but his lyric skills are DOPE. fuck def jam. true talent WINS.

my addiction.

i am currently in witdrawal from having acrylic nails. as i am typing this i see my natural nails [which are severly damaged and brittle due to this obsession]& it dsturbs me. not hearing the clicky clicky sound against the keyboard is very new to me. .::sigh::. idk. i think i need therapy for this. because the way im letting it bother me kinda disturbs me lol ..

music.

i USED to be a hip-hop head. i USED to enjoy new stuff came out . i used to know all the lyrics to every new rap song. however, for the past few years i've come to realize that up & coming rappers lyrics made no sense. even underground rappers whos talent i depended on for substance began to dissapoint me. don't get me wrong, my EXTREME love for hip hop still exists. 90's & backpack of course. now, give me indie rock & it would stimulate me more than a soulja boy song ever could.

my mother's photo-op.

i have not gotten any photo proof of my mother since i was about 6 years old. this picture excited me. & she's not one for hugs either so this picture to me is BEAUTIFUL. none of them knew i was taking the picture. it may be awkward,crappy & simple to you, but it means the world to me. this was taken on 3 26 09. when my brother was on his way to france. he's still there, ugh. he better come back. soon.

nails.

so.. today i got my nails done. by a lady with one eye. i was very prepared to get up & not pay due to the shotty work that i expected to be done but it wasn't that bad.. i mean its not exactly how i wanted them but i left it alone. i respect her. even though she is disabled she is doing what she truly loves: nails. i can tell when my nail technician does it cuz they like it or cuz thats just where life landed them. but she really liked it. & i dun think enough people give her a chance. i'm guilty of it.. i ALWAYS pass her by. i guess that was another one of God's lessons of how we can't judge a book by its cover blah.. blahh.. blah..
YEAH. i'd still never let her do my eyebrows though. THAT would be a LEAP of being considerate.

her work.

my hair.

so.. at the beginning of the week i had these curly thingies in my hair.. they weren't bad and they started to grow on me but today, my mom decided she didnt like lookin at them anymore & told me to comb them out.. initially i was going to be defiant, but just to keep the peace i did it.
right now, my bang looks bald. and my hair kinda looks like the late great abolitionist frederick douglass. i am currently miserable.. iDk wat to do.. my hair texture will NOT listen. i've tried. i'm screwed.this is fuckery. i guess i should be thankful that i atleast have hair and that my hair lost from that horrible haircut is growing back :\



WE SHALL OVERCOME.