Humility is Strength......

Won’t He do it? God can/will show up and get your attention. No! He will demand your attention. Straight up! Lord, I have been STRETCHED. It’s been over a week since I lost my keys, and it has truly been a humbling experience. What’s the lesson in all this fuckery; I ain’t got a clue. But! There’s got to be a lesson in all this. Right?  Was it to teach me to be more careful and to pay closer attention to my surroundings (something I’m always stressing to my sons) or maybe I needed to change something? God in all his majesty don’t allow things to just happen. Trust me! Every follicle on your scalp stuff is for real. This humbling adventure has touched me in some precarious ways; financially (car key almost $400), physically- I have been catching the bus (certainly no problem there), working this chunky body, and getting some much needed exercise, emotionally; stressing and fretting . That drains my energy and messes with my faith. I don’t like to operate in fear/ doubt.  Spiritually! I’ve been having some seriously deep conversations with God, and Self.  I get emotional when I think of the goodness of Jesus. I talk with God on a daily basis, a simple “Thank you Jesus” or one of those outta body surreal soul searching talking out loud Holy Ghost conversations. This travesty of this conundrum has increased my territory. I swear my faith territory has become epic. Fearless Faith. I am reminded everyday that I am God’s child; with/ through Him I have slain and defeated much larger giants. Hello! Drug Addiction. I am a Survivor. I am a walking testimony. A miracle manifested through God’s love. More than Most things, I’m grateful to be able to go through this knowing it’s already alright. Humility has allowed me to revisit the miracles and promises of God. Real talk. No bullcrap.

Cyber Porn #1

Yupp!

 I have been actively participating in multiple online dating sites- “Cyber Porn” for almost a decade. Thirsty! That sounds like fucking dehydration, but most times it was my only oasis in a lonely desert of desperation.  Don’t judge me! It’s my truth.

These experiences sprout a long list of What If’s (he is HIM)?, WTHell’s?, and the occasional WTF*ck’s? This hodgepodge of kooky characters ranged from any assortment of Caucasian, Afro American, Hispanic, Hindi, Asian, Muslim, Catholic, Buddhist, Baptist, and handicapped (a fact held in secret until the initial meeting…Wth!) , and all unknown or known combinations in between. Every male species regardless of race, creed or sexual orientation is on the prowl, and in search of true love/sex, and any other reasonable facsimile.

**Side Rant: Why! Do these old ass Negroes got these young children. Damn near 60years old, and got babies in elementary school. ijs…

I believed that my Cyber Porn “participation” would not be any different or any stranger than the next Divas. Yes??

***Side rant:  “Just like the last b*tch, I’ll get you anything you ask for”- Tupac.

When you keep doing the same bullsh*t over and over again, expecting altered/different results….Then you’re either crazy or stupid, perhaps maybe or certainly both?  I have slept with some of them, and I have accepted money from others. I ‘m not proud of it, but….. Yeah, you’re going to have process that part for yourself, I already did.

I was a “serial dater”, looking for my next fix. That fucked up addictive personality was alive and engaging. I was dating for my own ulterior motives e.g. Dinner @ nice restaurant, maybe bored/ broke and or in need of some companionship, money or sex. Don’t judge me! It’s my truth.

**Side rant:Catfish- someone who pretends to be someone they're not, using Facebook or other social media to create false identities, particularly to pursue deceptive online romances.

My roguish misconduct on Cyber Porn networks left me feeling unworthy, and continued to sink my self-esteem lower than I’d thought possible. You get the picture?  I had exchanged one bullsh*t addiction for different one. It was like spiraling out of control in some type of carnal “addiction”, and using lust as my feel good option. Not Cool. Not smart. Not Healthy. Don’t judge me? It’s my truth.

Diva O.U.T

No Filter. No Bullsh*t.

I’m still here…… 

Things have certainly changed in my small Universe since I last dipped down this way. It’s been well over a year since my last mediocre post, dated January 2013. It’s sad to say, it was just page filler. What I originally envisioned for Love, Life & Bullsh*t was a safe place where a Sistah could express herself, and “release” without judgment. That was the one justification that I allowed myself. most things where kept under wraps. No! I’m not about do a “tell-all” ……. well not yet anyway, some “truths” aren’t ready. My touching on a few personal issues and merely scratching the surface didn’t help me that mess was festering. It made me comfortable and complacent with sifting my feelings…. So I wrote “pretty”.  What’s that Beyonce’ sang about “Pretty hurts-It’s the Soul that needs the surgery”, and by suppressing that internal bullsh*t I was keeping my spirit in critical condition. My soul was in the I.C.U. The shit got real for me, and I had to admit my fears, doubts, hopes, dreams, hang ups and hook ups. I know it just ain’t me either; we all got jewels we need to share. I was hurting inside. Once I returned to past post memories, and realized how “Shallow Hal” they all seemed (I found them to be "cute, but not as fine as me”), and knew it was the right time for a make-over.  My hiatus was self imposed due to my chronic procrastination and the apparent vicious cycle of bullsh*t. Procrastination; a nasty, and ornery recurring habit that kept me locked in an alibi. “I’ll do it later”.  Simply put; it’s time to talk about some of that stuff that makes me say "Damn". I would hope to think I have evolved; I pray more, I think more critically-discerning, I plan more-not better, but more. I still got to get that shit together, I doubt less, and yet I am enough. I always have this feeling of anticipation. What am I waiting for? That’s that Bullsh*t! Let me clarify some “potent” stuff………I am writing for me, for us. Some people may be offended by language and content. Some people will assume I am referring to them, if so I will call your name. Some people will judge, and feel the need to reprimand, some people may never join in on a discussion, but sit back and absorb, Welcome. There is going be a little sum sum for every Diva present; nasty, educational, erotic, sexual, praying, praising, sharing, caring giving, taking, lessons taught, lessons given.…….. No Filter. No Bullshit. Fyi- I ain’t gonna be writing long post all the time. It might just say Help! *** Diva O.U.T.

dee-vuh, -vah

What is the genetic makeup of a Diva.......... First of all she is strong, she is confident, intelligent, classy, and gracious. Her attitude is a reflection of her sexiness, not her dress size. She is proud, assertive and humble - knowing her position, and maintaining it through both thick and thin. A Diva is a mover, a shaker, a ground breaker and a trail blazer. She doesn't allow any obstacle to hold her back, she maneuvers, persuades, adjusts, even barters to have things her way. Her perception of any given situation is to to accomplish her goal. Point. Blank. Period. Divas aren’t made. They are born.

Seeing My Vision....

       How many times will God allow you to start your "life" over again? I ask myself this question as I plan to make this trial run in the am to Las Vegas for the next 6 weeks. "Is this a good decision?"..............


        I made this sporadic decision on the way to my part time job 3+ weeks ago. I'd also decided to quit that same part time job, once I'd arrived. I needed to be able to focus on the last few weeks of school, and that included finals. I had just lost my apartment, and had finally come to grips that shit was starting to get "real". Note to self:  pseudo-business and friendship do not mix.....My cape was in the cleaners, and so I was finding it hard to function as a 'Super-She-ro", while securing shelter, attending school, and attempting to get to work at the same time. During "therapy" I'd learned to prioritize, and focus, but my emotions were on an all time "SCREAM", and the fetal position is never an option. Luckily, I was blessed to have "a little change" in the bank, and as usual God was on deck.
    
      Once the decision was made everything else was a non-friggin factor, and it was all about the planning. But, you know the old adage. "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans" ..............Ha  ha ha Hell!
I ran into more obstacles than you'd see at a miniature golf course. But, I wouldn't stop, I couldn't stop, I prayed, called on a few Sistah-friends from back in my hey-day, and Yes! I did me some boo-hoo'ing, but I kept it pushing.What other choice does a Diva have? Fearlessness or Bust!

      I am always "preaching" that God is only testing you speech........... "God does not give us the same test, each test is different. You pass one, and he gives you another test. They are designed to make you stronger, and to prepare you for the blessings God has in-store for you". It was time for me to suck it up, and to pass this test, and get ready for my blessing! My son Amir made it plain when he said..... "nobody can see your vision like you can. Life provides us lessons to direct and perfect our vision, but they cannot be considered lessons until you have learned from them". Boy! Did I learn, and the best lessons are either costly, or painful or BOTH.

"You gone learn today".....

1. If it seems too good to be true, then it probably is........

2. Do not take friendship for granted.

3. Depend on Y.O.U.

Oh yea! The answer to the initial proposed question............. "How many times will God allow you to start your "life" over again?

As many times as you need...............He's just GOoD like that.

*Keep the lessons/blessings coming.........Amen.



  

I Promise..........(SomeMoreRandomShitToo!)

I Promise........ ..I will be true to my REAL SELF (whoever that bitch is on any given Sunday)...........Fuck 
 my Representative!


I Promise...........To keep a tight limit on the bullshit I tell myself, and zero tolerance on the B.S. I acce

I Promise...........To be just nice enough, but only when I really feel it's obligatory.
(Oh' don't act brand new)
                       
I Promise...........To always say the ugly baby is cute.

I Promise...........To NEVER fake an orgasm.

I Promise...........Myself to work on my procrastination problem. Damn! Damn! Damn!

I Promise...........To remember that sometimes "Liking" is more important than Loving.

I Promise...........To continue to GROW in myself.

I Promise...........To continue to LEARN for myself.

I Promise...........To always LOVE MYSELF!..Smooches

I Promise...........To Honor my Parents,(Yes! Raymond too).

I Promise............To remain Grateful, Thankful, Humble, and Appreciative.

I Promise............Only Me.

Assignment #1 Eng. 101/ R. Mancia......Fall 2012

Confessions of a Crack Diva: Outline

 THESIS: Because of my past addiction and the pain it has caused my family, I’ve often felt like a
 stranger in a strange land.

1. I grew up normal to me, in your average everyday dysfunctional household.
   1. My Father was a neighborhood hustler, who owned and operated a gas station.
   2. My parents fought a lot.
2. When I was just a twenty three year old crack addict, I made the unconscious decision to walk away from my family; I left my baby with mother, and existed in my very own purgatory.
   1.  I absolutely loved cocaine in any form, but crack was my all time favorite.
   2. My family connection was immediately severed after I became addicted to drugs.
   3. The interactions with my family were becoming more estranged; it’s hard to sympathize with something you do not understand.

CONCLUSION: I still feel “special”, but it is on rare occasion that I feel like a stranger in a strange land.

Shaster L. Powell
R. Mancia
Eng. 101/#1356
19 September 2012           
                                   Confessions of a Crack Diva 

EXCELLENT TITLE!

               Let’s be realistic, who plans on growing up, and becoming a dope fiend? I certainly did not. My dreams were to become a writer and an attorney, the first black woman appointed to the Supreme Court. Those were mighty big dreams for a nappy headed little girl from South Central Los Angeles. Thank goodness I had the kind of mother who encouraged my sister and ME I to always accomplish the inconceivable. She influenced us to be bold in the goals we set for ourselves. I did well in school, and when I was accepted to the University of California Irvine, my entire family celebrated. I moved into the dorms on campus, and soon my recreational drug usage became an everyday habit. This was truly the beginning of my end, and the end of my teen years, my experimental twenties, and all of my developing thirties. For the next twenty plus years, I tormented my family, and I believe they suffered my addiction more than I. I truly love my family; they have never given up on me. Because of my past addiction and the pain it has caused my family, I have often felt like a stranger in a strange land.  AMAZING!
                            
               Growing up normal to me was growing up in a dysfunctional household. My father was a neighborhood hustler, who owned and operated a gas station. While, my mother got up every day and went to work at the post office. My parents migrated to California from the South, mainly because my father was in the Navy and stationed in Long Beach. My parents fought a lot. He’d break out windows, kick in doors, and he would do all this because he was afraid my mother was going to leave him. I ask you, OMIT.  wWho would want to stay with a violent and delusional man?  Eventually, my parents divorced; right around the same time I entered Jr. SP High school. This became a major life changing period in my life; my dad shot my mom right in front of my sister and ME I; that’s when I started experimenting with drugs. I was only thirteen.
             By the time I turned 23, I was truly addicted to crack, and I made the unconscious decision to walk away from my family. I left my baby with MY mother, and chose to exist in my very own purgatory. I absolutely loved cocaine in any form, but crack was my all time favorite. It’s true; I tried almost every other street drug imaginable, but as soon as I found crack cocaine I was home. My family connection was immediately severed after I became addicted to drugs. I was no longer that bubbly personality, college bound, first born granddaughter with the bright smile, and even brighter dreams for the future. I was dark and scary, and my family didn’t know what to say or how to act around me. I still came by my mother’s home to visit my baby, and it was always awkward, and extremely uncomfortable. My mother would make me go through this long “sterilization-sanitization” process as soon as I entered the front door. I would have to put my clothes in a plastic bag, and go straight into the tub. . The fact that my mom was raising my children, and I continued to go to prison totally eluded me.  The interactions with my family were becoming more estranged; it’s hard to sympathize with something you do not understand.
                    When I became sober, my life changed for the better, and so did everything in it. I experienced wonderful things I never knew existed. I had missed so much of my life, and the lives of my entire family. There is no way you can get those years back, and the best you can do is move forward. I was ready for my life, and I was ready for new beginnings. I wanted a relationship with my sons and a friendship with my mother. I needed the chance to be the big sister I never was and to move pass PAST the age of 23. In the last seven plus years I have had the opportunity to do all that, and so much more.  When I entered that residential treatment facility in November 2005, I had no idea what to expect. However, when I walked out of that program; A COMMA I felt brand new; I felt like my soul had been reunited with my heart. My family still was not sure how to approach me, but their arms were wide open.
                      I still seek validation from my mother, and I find myself sometimes making amends for things that no longer need fixing. It has taken me along time, and a lot of therapy to be able to share my emotions with others. I guess you could say my family relationships are still new, because I’m still getting to know them. I have recapped back so much of what I lost, and some of what I never had. I have regained my trust, and earned my respect. I still feel “special”, but it is on rare occasion that I feel like a stranger in a strange land.
             

GRADE:  20/20

YOU’RE AN EXCELLENT WRITER!  FROM THE BEGINNING, YOU GRAB THE READER’S ATTENTION WITH A VERY “CATCHY” INTRODUCTION.  AS YOU DEVELOP YOUR ESSAY, YOU PROVIDE VERY VIVID AND DETAILED EXAMPLES THAT SHOW HOW YOU HAVE OFTEN FELT LIKE A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND. THE WRITING IS CLEAR AND COHERENT.  IT WAS AN HONOR TO READ YOUR ESSAY AND TO LEARN ABOUT A PHENOMENAL WOMAN WHO HAS REINVENTED HERSELF.  THANKS FOR SHARING.  MAY I USE YOUR ESSAY AS A MODEL PAPER FOR FUTURE CLASSES.  SAY “YES” WHEN YOU SEE ME ON MONDAY, PLEASE.