It’s been about a good 2 years since I was here last. I guess my schooling just got the best of me. I don’t remember how in the world I just up and left this site and completely forgot about it, but upon stumbling across my own blog post when perusing Google has brought me back. In these last few years many things about me, my surroundings and my all around outlook on life have changed. I am now a college student studying computer science and struggling to find my place in this life, like many my age tend to do. I’m hoping in the next couple of years I will have set myself straight. Ah… 


Natural Hair Post #1: The Basics

So, it’s definitely been a minute now and I’m about halfway into my senior year of high school (yay!), and things have been piling up on my plate, but it’s a couple days before Turkey Day (yum!) and while I am on my mini-break, I thought I’d post, so expect some more during this week. Anyhow, on with the topic of the day, natural hair. I had never intended to be sitting here typing out a post on this subject, but a new thought dawned on me a few weeks ago and I’ve been enthralled with it ever since, all the while wondering why it had never hit me before. I was laying in bed late one night and was watching a Youtube video entitled “Relaxers and Weave” by one of my favorite truth-telling Youtubers. Anyways, as he was talking about the women who wear their hair relaxed and in weaves and whatnot, I couldn’t help but to reflect on my own hair experiences, which I can admit, are not very extensive. Let’s take a blast to the past, shall we?

It’s beautiful, why do we hate it?

I can remember some things about my hair, but the one thing that always stood out for me from my younger elementary school days was that I hated my hair. Now you may be wondering, why does a small carefree child of 7 or 8 hate their hair. Well for me, it was a matter of what other people in my class would say about it. They said it was short and I always wore it the same way and that doing that, made me look plain and ugly. It hurt my little feelings and I went home to my mother and told her about it. She saw my point of view and at once got me over to the salon. It wouldn’t be until much later I realized my mother’s reasons as to why she wanted my hair to be straight. When she finally did tell me she said she had been doing my hair up until the point I relaxed it and she was tired of dealing with it. I can remember sitting in the salon chair as my stylist looked at my hair, she said, “This child don’t need a relaxer, it’s fine just the way it is. She has good hair”. Then she looked down at me and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this because if you ever decide to grow it out, you’ll have to cut it all off.” Being eight years old at the time and having that eight year old tunnel vision and the need of instant gratification, I nodded and so the lye began…
If you don’t know already, the Black Hair-care business is a steady money making business. Black women are known (stereotypically sometimes) to spend more than 200 dollars on their hair for various services to be done to it, i.e weaves (which include but are not limited to: sew ins, glue-ins, clip-in hair extensions, micro-braiding, lace extensions, tree braids, etc), relaxers aka straight perms/creamy crack, color treating, press and curls, lace-front wigs, the list goes on and on and women will pay through the nose to get their hair done, even if bills are going unpaid… In these posts mainly I will talk about relaxers in comparison to natural simply because that’s all I’ve ever had to deal with.

Dark and Lovely, eh…?

For the last about ten years, I have been going to the salon every two weeks and relaxing my hair every 2-3 months, burning my scalp with harsh chemicals. But why? Simply because straight hair was what I was used to. At the sight of ¼ inch of my “nappy” roots and in that chair I’d be. Yeah, it’s definitely called “creamy crack” for that very reason, once you start, you get addicted without even knowing it. I cannot tell ya’ll how much money has been spent in these last ten years… (let’s see: 26 weeks times $120… Times 10 years…) $31,200 is about how much collectively has been spent in my relaxed years, just on hair. Now imagine what that number would be for a woman who had been relaxed since she was 2 or 3 and continue to relax all her life (yes, it happens). Business sure is booming… (‘_’)

Natural Hair Post #2 Coming Soon!


The Ladder

I was born in a world where I don’t matter

My name just another rung on a ladder

People stepping on me to get to the top

Guess that’s why I would do anything to swap

To take a few steps in your shoes and see

What no chains feel like, and just to feel free

But that’s unfortunate for me, and I know

‘Cause I’m on the low rung greeting you hello.

All living in a cycle of give and take

Constant lessons about who’s real and who’s fake

A way of living which is hard to escape

Just waiting for your life to take some shape

So, you just hold on and attempt to pump the brakes.


“Why,” some people may ask, “Do you feel this way?”

“Well,” I say, “It all started that one dark day…”

Sitting there, talking to one of my best friends

He saw me, but that’s not where this story ends

He would go on to tell me more of his lies

Me, staring straight into his dark brown eyes

Months later I find myself standing alone

Something small inside me, not barely yet grown

I had named him Michael, after his father

Mind, not knowing he did not want to be bothered

I was a young mother, my innocence lost

Wish my mom would’ve warned me about the cost

I realize the cycle does not end with me

The dangers I see, make me just want to flee

Here we are in a world where we don’t matter

Our names just another rung on a ladder.

All living in a cycle of give and take

Constant lessons about who’s real and who’s fake

A way of living which is hard to escape

Just waiting for your life to take some shape

So, you just hold on and attempt to pump the brakes.


I hope and pray he won’t make the same mistakes

That one day, he will truly become awake

And maybe on that day, his child will say,

“I was born in a world where I do matter

And I refuse the low rung of that ladder.”


Wrote it for one of my classes ^_^

Not the best, but I hope you like it.


New to Facebook, but this is very, very true to what I have seen so far…

Sweet Mother

Yes, it’s the chicken or the egg debate all over again.  I just read an NYT article (link below) that talks about whether or not facebook has made us all a pack of teeming narcissists.  (I live in Los Angeles, so that is sort of expected with or without the facebook.)  But, since today is facebook goes live day, or rather facebook goes public day, or better said Marc Zuckerberg gets feckin’ richer day – I thought it was time for an fb-centered post.  Excuse my selfishness – I think.  Wait, does that mean I think I own facebook?  Hmm, anyway…



I’ve thrown together what I believe to be the MOST narcissistic facebook status updates one could ever write.  Please enjoy and then re-post or like or share or re-print as a bumper sticker.  (jk, jk, no, really.)


I ate spicy ramen last night and I think…

View original post 300 more words

Where Does the Time Go?

School got out nearly two days ago and I have had enough time to recover from finals and the like. I can finally say, I’ve made it through yet another successful school year without fail. I’m coming upon twelve years of being in school now and my future looks pretty bright if I do say so myself. But the point of this post is not to expel myself of all my hopes and dreams for my future. It is to focus on time.

If only, like a video, you could rewind the clock…

During these last few weeks, as my family packed up our apartment and moved to a house 45 minutes away, I came upon some old home videotapes. Reminding me of the past that I seem to remember as only a light and airy feeling of being free, young and careless. I pushed the tape into my tape player and watched as a younger version of me flounced about in ballet class, a smile spread across my face as I yelled “Mommy, look at me!”. I smiled inwardly at the memory. Sifting through a few more I picked out one of my twin cousins’ 5th birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. Their faces as they took bites out of their pieces of pizza crust. They’ve changed so much I thought to myself as I watched on. As I looked at the television screen the thought that one was now running from the police and the other was in juvenile saddened me deeply. They had so many chances… I guess it dawned on me that the “road not taken” philosophy suited the future of my extended family.

Decisons, decisions…

Technology has that funny effect that it makes people seem closer and more distant at the same time. Facebook will be my prime example here. I just made one this past Mother’s Day, (I feel like one of the last to jump on the FB bandwagon, but hey at least I got there…). It’s only been a year since I left my suburban Michigan home and as soon as I registered, I searched for everyone I knew and had once known. I looked through albums upon albums of pictures of the people that I thought I had known down to a T. Things change, that was the main thing I learned that night. In a year’s time, I felt like an alien that had landed upon Earth’s temperate surface; distant and isolated to my past. After I found friends, I searched for family members. My aunts and uncles I hadn’t seen in years, now old and grayed. My vibrant past was becoming more and more muted as I clicked. My cousins, this one pregnant, that one pregnant. I remember searching for one of my girl cousins in particular, (only 6 months older than me), clicking upon her profile I saw the bump, the baby bump. Looking at that picture, jaw-dropped, all I could do is think back to us sitting on my kitchen floor in Detroit, using pots and pans as drum sets. Saw us once again having spaghetti fights and getting caught by my aunt. Why did things have to change.? This was never the way I imagined us being when we were younger…

Even from where I sit on this computer in Arizona, I look upon my home city, Detroit. It is failing. The streets I recall learning to ride my bike on and the lawns where I played with Barbie’s and the houses where I ate barbeque with my now-estranged family, all of it is fading and becoming darker as I grow older. Sometimes I want to believe this is a part of life and its natural progression. But, there has to be a difference between deterioration and progression, right?


“Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.” – Johnathan Safran Foer.


AMBW Post #2: The Attached Stigma

Yes, that title is correct, this is my second post on AMBW relationships. It is long overdue, but I am finally getting around to it, so let us begin. In this specific post I will be talking about the “stigma” that surrounds this type of relationship, whether it is from family, friends, or whoever else’s opinion matter to these dating people.

Love, real love, is something none of us can control. Love is not about the size of a guy’s wallet, or about what’s in his jeans. And love definitely sees no color. But, unfortunately for those in AMBW relationships and advocators of it (like me until I find my black and yellow love xD), other people do. Living where I do, in this small town on the outskirts of what seems like the world, and being African American I get stares when hanging out with my non-Black girlfriends. I get just as many looks when I am with another Black guy and what feels like the hot, fiery eyes of everyone when I’m with a White guy. I can brush off the gawks of random strangers I don’t know when we are chilling at the park, but the ones that come from other Black guys are unnerving. It’s like me choosing to be with someone that doesn’t resemble me is like being a cat in water. It’s just wrong. This is the most annoying thing I have ever come across in my 17 years of lifetime so far. This double standard in the Black community when it comes to dating interracially. The men can chase after anything he wants night and day whether she is White, Asian, Spanish, or Blue… But the women are supposed to stay loyal to their men. How in the hell can we be “loyal” to you, when you are too busy chasing some other woman’s tail to treat us with the same loyalty you ask for? (Digressing…)

I advocate any form of interracial relationship because no matter if you are a Black man dating outside your race, a White woman dating outside your race, or an Asian man dating outside your race, just stepping up and taking action is a courageous thing. And I use courageous here because many of us do have the stereotypes imprinted in our minds that hinder us from taking that crucial first step.

Writing from a Black girl’s point of view, I’ll start with some stereotypes that surround the Asian man when it comes to the inside mind of a Black woman. The main three that come to mind are:

1). Shortness either in height or other places.

2). His parents will never accept me.

3). He’s probably gonna be shy and can’t handle me and my attitude.

These three stereotypes have been established in my mind maybe around two or three years ago, by the main culprit in much of this… the media. Let me reference back to my crush from school, A. Many times I found our little group land on the topic of whether the big #1 Asian guy stereotype is really true. And still, this remains a mystery to me. I still do not like the fact that when it comes to sex, Asian guys seem to always be placed last on ranking. There are horrid African American lovers, awful Caucasian lovers, terrible Latino lovers, well the list could go on and on, but ya’ll get the point. No matter what you look like and what you are working with, a man of any color can either put the motion in the ocean or leave it dry and bored.

Just 'cause you rockin' the Titanic, don't mean you know how to manuever it...

Secondly, the media will have you believing that interracial dating is hard. Which, hmm, is true, and may seem like a harsh reality, but it is what it is. In every race, when interracially dating, there are gonna be parents who will dislike whoever it is that you are bringing home for dinner. For example, my grandmother heavily dislikes my mother to this day because she is a darker tone than my father is, even after my mother tried her hardest to be perfect. Some things you just have to accept, aren’t going to change… As I have looked, various sources on the internet have revealed to me, Asian parents are notorious for keeping it all within the family. I will admit some parents are more acceptable of it, but I would not advise my Black sistahs out there to go waltzing into their boyfriend’s house the first time and giving his parents a high five on the black hand side, just saying. Then again, on the flip side of the coin, if you are likable, and your Asian cutie-pie boo loves you, chances are, they will too.

Lastly, many people believe that Asian guys, whether they be Korean, Chinese, Cambodian, etc., they are bound to be shy. That these men aren’t gonna stand up and whoop some serious ass if someone disrespects their girlfriend. Please… Just because a guy is Asian, it don’t mean he is spineless or wimpy. There are many times in my life where I have heard aunts, older cousins and friends say that, “I need a Black man to protect me,” and “Ya’ll know I’m hard to handle, only a Black man can tame this…”. Again I say honey, please!

YEAH Babayy!!!

To close out this rather long post I just wanna say that if you are a Black girl trying to dating an Asian guy, or vice versa don’t let the fear of “we are too different, so we wont click”, get into you. AMBW can work, it just takes courage and patience and much love. And remember, it is no different than any other romantic relationship, love is magic and if you believe in it, it will never just be an illusion…


The Dating Game

Hey ya’ll out there! Lemme start off today by just jumping right in. So I am at the point in my life where I am starting to branch off and meet new people and just do my own thing (which is scary I might add). Anyway, being in high school and in the midst of everybody else in the midst of trying to do their own thing, brings about today’s topic: Dating.

Now as daunting of a topic as that may be for some, I just want to talk a little about all the crappy stereotypes that come along with this “dating game”. And as I go along with this, please, don’t believe that I am just talking about teenagers here. This playing of the game, occurs with everybody new to dating somebody new. Now, today I was talking to my friend in class and she was telling me about all the rules that girls need to follow to snag the sexy, dreamy, perfect guy. (Which, let’s all be honest and say it doesn’t exist. Well, unless some guy somewhere has been created that doesn’t fart and knows how to put the toilet seat down every time, I don’t think so… But I digress). To the rules:

1). Never be the first one to give out your number.

2). Never be too flirtatious whether talking straight up or texting.

3). Always smile a lot, even if his jokes aren’t that funny.

4). Do not under any circumstances come off too desperate for attention.

5). If he acts nervous around you, he wants your shorts.

Now, maybe on some level, all of these are true. But not for a minute am I going to let some list of rules keep me from going after what I want. And in my opinion, I don’t think anyone should be afraid to go against dating rule number whatever-the-hell for these stupid gender ideologies we have for the game of dating. So what if you give him your number first, ya’ll could be together forever. And hey, whoever said that if you don’t smile 24/7 he’s gonna think you are weird and or depressed. And let’s be real, every single guy who is nervous around you, doesn’t want you like you think he does. If you wanna be assertive, to my girls out there, don’t be afraid to break the rules! Hell, we’ve been breaking the rules for years, nothing should stop us now. The status quo doesn’t define you, your actions do. J

Sometimes it's good to be straightforward 'cause at times beating around the bush, it just ain't working...

In this post, I would also like to address some of you shy guys out there. I, as I think I have said in an earlier post I am extremely shy around people I don’t know and guys I like. And to be painstakingly honest, sometimes I do let it get to me and I don’t open up to others like I probably should. I am nearly positive that I am not the only girl who is shy like that. But the main message for some of you guys out there: Please, if you like a girl, or even think she is cute, say something. You know she’s shy, and maybe you’re a little insecure? Just say something. Hmm, let me rephrase that, this is for both guys and girls. In our society, it is expected that the guy is supposed to do everything. Ride up on his white stallion / Mercedes-Benz drop-top and ask us out to dinner. Make the first move. And partially that’s because of the faulty premise that if a girl is making the first move on a guy, she’s being “skanky”, which is complete ludicrous. Anybody can make a move, it just takes guts and courage to say something. But trust, all of us have something just a little bit weird about ourselves. As Hannah Montana (or was it Miley Cyrus) said, “Nobody’s Perfect”. So guys, don’t be afraid to strut up to that head cheerleader and ask her to go to Prom with you. And girls, don’t be all nervous to swagger up to that swim team hottie and ask him to hang out later and maybe catch a movie. Think about it, the worst they can say is no

Courage + You = Yay 🙂