'Dickmatized': The state of being entranced with a penis that may be doing emotional damage

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Starting today a bit late… Had way too much fun last night. Thankfully my head isn’t pounding. #WINNING!

I’ve been contemplating writing this post for months now. Actually it was supposed to be my first post but I was still feeling my audience out. I need to throw caution to the wind because this deliberate censorship is annoying even me. Anyway I was browsing the Internet when I came across something Jill Scott said.To be specific she was talking about being “Dickmatized”, basically being Dickmatized means being in a relationship or having relations with a man and its only sexually satisfying. He barely calls, he doesn’t remember your birthday, your fears, has no idea what you like… and the list goes on. I think to some extent we can all relate to this.

Now I’m always having random conversations with friends and this topic seems to be recurring.  But it’s funny because a couple days before I saw Jill Scott’s statement I was having this EXACT conversation with one of my male friends. (yeah there’s war in the world and we have detailed  conversations about penis… lol go figure).

But we were talking about it in the context of what our society has become. We’ve been falling in love with dicks instead of men and wondering why we have baby daddys and not fathers.

We scream at the top of our lungs that men are dogs, but never call that guy we had such great dates with, because the first time we slept with him wasn’t very satisfactory. Please don’t get me wrong here. Settling for less than best sex is not an option but isn’t sex something that with the right communication can improve? I’m sure nobody reading this right now was as good on their first time having sex as they are now. Great sex is something that can be mastered. Bad personalities are innate.  So why are we willing to chase men with qualities that we can’t change and discard those we actually can?

Similarly I was having a heated conversation with somebody on what I call “ breeding bitches”. You see I’m sick and tired of the female stereotype. Girls are bitches or girls can’t get along. I feel like we as females try to live up to that stereotype, so we are not as warm and open to each other but go out of our way to be one of the boys. I hear my male friends joke and complain about how it’s necessary to keep their female friends from different circles separate because apparently we behave like pit bulls in the same vicinity.

To tell you the truth these stereotypes have a lot of truth in them. But they still anger me. I’m annoyed that when I say hi to a new female I’ve been newly introduced to she rolls her eyes and barely talks back yet puts on her best self to impress the new boys around her -_-… Apparently I need a penis to make female friends.  But men condone this bitchy behavior. They witness it, know its wrong, shrug their shoulders and say “well she didn’t act like a bitch with me so it ain’t my problem”…..  I hope you say that when she takes your kids and half of your savings at your divorce hearing -_- !

 But here ends my rant…. hey, maybe these issues make the world go round.  If they didn’t exist what else would I waste time writing about?
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Early Morning Mango and a Semi-epiphany

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Beats me but I had a mango craving at 3.40 in the morning and succumbed to it. It’s part of my if you feel like it and you’ve weighed your options and it’s pretty harmless go for it mentality. I told myself well it’s better than that Bostock craving I gave into this morning (side eye at myself). Giraud’s restaurant in Anguilla makes some awesome Bostock if anybody is wondering…

Anyway… I’m eating my mango and I remember this conversation with a friend of mine. He constantly says that he lives with no regrets.  He’s made bad decisions, he accepts them and moves on. Actually I’ve come across a lot of people who claim to have this mentality. So of course my I-sit-constantly- and- obsess-over-the-past-self has been trying every method possible to adopt this shit happens move on mentality and it just hasn’t been working. Some mornings I get up and go YAYE I’m over it and I don’t give a (expletive…yeah I’m not sure how I feel about cursing on my blog just yet). Then other days I get up and go man, please God let me go back in time and fix this. So this is where I had my semi epiphany… I think people who live without regrets are people who can live with the consequences of their actions. I don’t fall into that category. I can’t live with the consequences of my actions. I guess this is where I would get the everything happens for a reason speech but to tell you the truth I’m not really sure it does, so that speech has never pacified me fully. I have these mental scars and every time I see them I wince.

Let’s say you used to ride a bike and one day you looked at your protective gear and said hmmm I don’t feel like logging this around today. You go for a ride, get into an accident and you’re paralyzed for the rest of your life. Every time your nurse wipes your ass you feel like mannnn can I go back to that day and do it all again. How can you live with the consequences of something like that and think…. No regrets. I don’t see how that’s possible but maybe I just need to work on my outlook on life (which I’m starting to think may be the case).

This random example just reminded me of something my Uncle who is a doctor said. Once you’re alive everything is fine. That just made a lot of sense to me. Maybe his proximity to death has made him realize that existing on this earth is all that matters; faulty decisions and all. So maybe every time I start beating up on myself for stupid decisions I need to say… hey you in the mirror, you’re alive right?

So new on my to do list is work on how I perceive things. Top priority! I’m off to catch what’s left of my morning snooze but before I go I’m going leave this link to an article I did on three AMAZING Caribbean Poets. It really is a must see. So please. Go see.






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The Nomad

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I’ve realized that I’m not cut out for my nomadic lifestyle. About a year ago I decided to drop everything and take a year off. Find out what was bothering me, reconnect with those that I haven’t seen in a while, get my life on track, be refreshed and move on.  You know, my usual fairytale idea. Well fairytales are usually allegories for fools and children (guess which one I am )  and I was definitely blindsided by its hidden message. Let’s just say things didn’t quite turn out the way that I wanted them to  (Gross understatement)

First of all I don’t even like to travel! I don’t even know where I got this brilliant idea to be a nomad from. Secondly I just don’t think my heart is cut out to be a nomad. I get attached to people and places and then I realize its time to leave. I’ve had this feeling in the pit of my stomach for the last year and I’ve been wondering what was causing it. It usually happens when I reconnect with an old friend. After going out about 5 times I’d start feeling uneasy and I’ve been attributing this feeling to the fact that I think that I’m barging into their lives and demanding time, and frankly who am I to do that? But I’ve discovered that isn’t the reason for my unrest. It’s the fact that I’ve been accepted back into their lives and I’m leaving again. I feel like the bad father who pops up out of the blue only to disappear again. Leaving in his wake emotionally abused children. (Hey, I hear that I have a tendency to be dramatic). But that’s how I feel.

 Well my time off is coming to an end and though my year hasn’t been the fairytale that I expected it to be I’ve learnt SOOOOOO much about myself that it’s pretty scary.  It’s like there was a whole other person just waiting to come out. Fears that I didn’t even know existed have surfaced, but I’ve discovered that I have a fierce will to survive. I’m still terribly insecure but I can now push that aside long enough to go after those dreams that I’ve kept in my pocket.  I’m a little overwhelmed as I have so much to do to get where I need to be. I’ve been an in the closet dreamer for so long that I’m now playing catch up just to achieve my dreams.  And then there is the constant fear of failure. If you’ve ever tried to catch a train with 3 minutes to go and you’re at the stoplight just before the train station… well that’s how I feel. Do I keep on going; does it even make any sense at this point? What if I never make it? … I really wish I had all the answers but I don’t so I’m going to continue living on a prayer.


P.S.  check out my pick-me-up clip. I play it every time I think of giving up and when it’s done I clap my hands and say * LET’S DO THIS *

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