It’s personal. DNA supported. Ancestrally complicated. And none of your damn business.

Okay. Ill give you a bit of something to take away from this obnoxious Diddy.

I don’t fear small minded people. Not my problem.

What I do fear cannot be changed by sitting back and eating popcorn.

The only course of action is take the bull by the balls and swing him around a few times.

Vulnerability speaks above bullshit.

Silence. On the outside.

Strategizing on the inside.

If you listen— the answer will come.

When you close your eyes and shut off your ears — don’t be surprised by an ambush.

Be prepared with a genuine smile

Sincerity emboldens

Believing you know more…is debilitating

Pursue happiness by keeping the know-it-all’s snapping the air at your heels

Observe with a shut mouth.

And finally— your path is your own.

You may find yourself on someone else’s path… or not.

If you allow them to pull you….you will fail the greater goal.

Lessons learned through experience stay forever.

False learning is fair weathered

Peace. Love. Respect

 

 

 

Fire, wind, water, earth and us

Coming at you like a natural disaster

You don’t want to fight

You don’t want to know

Living in a day dream while the rest of us face the nightmare

We stand dead center in the chaos and confusion

Roaring for humanity

Bloody fingers cling to justice

Broken dreams washed away by tears

Screaming to be free

We prepare for the war you ignore

You don’t want to fight

You don’t want to know

Living in a day dream while the rest of us face the nightmare

We won’t let us fall back into the void

A place where voices die

Where power resides in the telling of a lie

Say Thank You
Say thank you. Say thank you to the women who gave you a voice. Say thank you to the women who were arrested and imprisoned and beaten and gassed for you to have a voice. Say thank you to the women who refused to back down, to the women who fought tirelessly to give you a voice. Say thank you to the women who put their lives on hold, who –lucky for you — did not have “better things to do” than to march and protest and rally for your voice. So you don’t feel like a “second class citizen.” So you get to feel “equal.”
Thank Susan B. Anthony and Alice Paul for your right to vote.
Thank Elizabeth Stanton for your right to work.
Thank Maud Wood Park for your prenatal care and your identity outside of your husband.
Thank Rose Schneiderman for your humane working conditions.
Thank Eleanor Roosevelt and Molly Dewson for your ability to work in politics and affect policy.
Thank Margaret Sanger for your legal birth control.
Thank Carol Downer for your reproductive healthcare rights.
Thank Sarah Muller for your equal education.
Thank Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Shannon Turner, Gloria Steinem, Zelda Kingoff Nordlinger, Rosa Parks, Angela Davis, Malika Saada Saar, Wagatwe Wanjuki, Ida B. Wells, Malala Yousafzai. Thank your mother, your grandmother, your great-grandmother who did not have half of the rights you have now.
You can make your own choices, speak and be heard, vote, work, control your body, defend yourself, defend your family, because of the women who marched. You did nothing to earn those rights. You were born into those rights. You did nothing, but you reap the benefits of women, strong women, women who fought misogyny and pushed through patriarchy and fought for you. And you sit on your pedestal, a pedestal you are fortunate enough to have, and type. A keyboard warrior. A fighter for complacency. An acceptor of what you were given. A denier of facts. Wrapped up in your delusion of equality.
You are not equal. Even if you feel like you are. You still make less than a man for doing the same work. You make less as a CEO, as an athlete, as an actress, as a doctor. You make less in government, in the tech industry, in healthcare.
You still don’t have full rights over your own body. Men are still debating over your uterus. Over your prenatal care. Over your choices.
You still have to pay taxes for your basic sanitary needs.
You still have to carry mace when walking alone at night. You still have to prove to the court why you were drunk on the night you were raped. You still have to justify your behavior when a man forces himself on you.
You still don’t have paid (or even unpaid) maternity leave. You still have to go back to work while your body is broken. While you silently suffer from postpartum depression.
You still have to fight to breastfeed in public. You still have to prove to other women it’s your right to do so. You still offend others with your breasts.
You are still objectified. You are still catcalled. You are still sexualized. You are still told you’re too skinny or you’re too fat. You’re still told you’re too old or too young. You’re applauded when you “age gracefully.” You’re still told men age “better.” You’re still told to dress like a lady. You are still judged on your outfit instead of what’s in your head. What brand bag you have still matters more than your college degree.
You are still being abused by your husband, by your boyfriend. You’re still being murdered by your partners. Being beaten by your soulmate.
You are still worse off if you are a woman of color, a gay woman, a transgender woman. You are still harassed, belittled, dehumanized.
Your daughters are still told they are beautiful before they are told they are smart. Your daughters are still told to behave even though “boys will be boys.” Your daughters are still told boys pull hair or pinch them because they like them.
You are not equal. Your daughters are not equal. You are still systemically oppressed.
Estonia allows parents to take up to three years of leave, fully paid for the first 435 days. United States has no policy requiring maternity leave.
Singapore’s women feel safe walking alone at night. American women do not.
New Zealand’s women have the smallest gender gap in wages, at 5.6%. United States’ pay gap is 20%.
Iceland has the highest number of women CEOs, at 44%. United States is at 4.0%.
The United States ranks at 45 for women’s equality. Behind Rwanda, Cuba, Philippines, Jamaica.
But I get it. You don’t want to admit it. You don’t want to be a victim. You think feminism is a dirty word. You think it’s not classy to fight for equality. You hate the word pussy. Unless of course you use it to call a man who isn’t up to your standard of manhood. You know the type of man that “allows” “his” woman to do whatever she damn well pleases. I get it. You believe feminists are emotional, irrational, unreasonable. Why aren’t women just satisfied with their lives, right? You get what you get and you don’t get upset, right?
I get it. You want to feel empowered. You don’t want to believe you’re oppressed. Because that would mean you are indeed a “second-class citizen.” You don’t want to feel like one. I get it. But don’t worry. I will walk for you. I will walk for your daughter. And your daughter’s daughter. And maybe you will still believe the world did not change. You will believe you’ve always had the rights you have today. And that’s okay. Because women who actually care and support other women don’t care what you think about them. They care about their future and the future of the women who come after them.
Open your eyes. Open them wide. Because I’m here to tell you, along with millions of other women that you are not equal. Our equality is an illusion. A feel-good sleight of hand. A trick of the mind. I’m sorry to tell you, but you are not equal. And neither are your daughters.
But don’t worry. We will walk for you. We will fight for you. We will stand up for you. And one day you will actually be equal, instead of just feeling like you are.
~ Dina Leygerman, 2017

Truth

Posted: January 23, 2017 in life lessons, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , ,

I’m not saying that…ugh I do hate saying this… he is not my president. He was elected. I’m saying that what I’ve seen, what I’ve heard and having been personally insulted because of my beliefs by his fans, I am scared shit of what this man is capable of doing. I thank all the women and men from our past who fought for my right to have a voice. I thank the men and women today for keeping us going toward the ultimate goal of being a human being with the same rights as men.
Some white men get it…some don’t. Most women get it… some don’t. I trust my instincts and have the ability and elite skills, to say what I feel without having the need to insult anyone’s beliefs or put down anyone’s personal journey. I don’t need to resort to fake news to help me get through this trying time or to make me feel vindicated about my beliefs and self worth. It takes all of us together a unification of morals to be a strong sound, and well-balanced nation. WE can make sure that, even though we may or may not like him, this country will be successful. The petty stupidity of the senate and congress for decades contributed by both parties, have caused our nation to fall. Their inability to put the United States of America before their personal egos has brought us to where we are today. I’m angry but anger doesn’t make my IQ fall. I want us to succeed no matter who is sitting behind the big desk in the white house. We the people are in charge. If we come together and fight for peace, for our country’s safety, to be kick-ass, force the government to focus on getting people more jobs, feeding our hungry, helping the poor, bring those they’ve forgotten back into our light… our nation will thrive.

Heart Journey

Posted: January 23, 2017 in life lessons
Tags: , , ,

It’s pretty clear to me, that during this time at home here, helping my mom recover from her stroke, God is wasting no time at all, teaching me things. And not just any “things…” but real, important, messy things. Things that should come with an owners manual or an instruction guide. In other words, things you could […]

via Patience as a Way of Life — BeautyBeyondBones

 

Chapter One

 

 

 

Frolicking through a daydream of sexual fantasy, written by one of her favorite romance authors, Melissa did not see or hear the approach of an interruption, that would painfully extract her from the erotic escape.

“Okay. This has got to stop,” said a beautiful, tall redhead, whose eyes flashed hotter than her hair.

Reality slapped Melissa out of the fantasy world and back into the real world.

Anger and frustration welled up so fast she barely restrained the impulse to lash out at the intruder invading her privacy.

Her assistant and best friend, Casey, loomed over her, hands on her hips, bent down retrieving the romance novel that fell to the floor. She quickly glanced over its contents. “This,” she said, waving the book around, “is not real.”

Melissa sucked in and blew out several breaths. Casey’s annoyed expression flattened becoming more concerned, acknowledging that there was more going on in Melissa’s mind other than the words from the romance novel.

“You followed me? Again?” Melissa’s patience thinned. This night held a lot of bad memories and she couldn’t wait for the sun to rise and whisk her away into oblivion. “And what would you know about real?” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but grief held back an apology.

Casey flinched. “I can fantasize with you,” she offered. “You don’t have to spend this night alone.”

“Yes, I do,” Melissa muttered. “Two hundred years and the memory of her murder still destroys me. Anger eats away at my confidence and the hate I feel for my long dead father refuses to subside.”

“You’ve locked yourself away on this day, every year since I’ve known you. There are other ways.” Casey paused biting into her lip.

Melissa knew she wasn’t going to like what Casey would say next, but instead of walking away, she bowed her head.

“You need to get out and live. You won’t survive much longer if you don’t.”

Melissa’s head snapped up. “I go to work every night…Don’t I?”

“Yes. But—”

“I listen to people for twelve hours every night, puzzling out where their lives went wrong. I help them.”

“Melissa—”

“I even get together with you and other people from work for the occasional social chat.”

“Rarely,” Casey groused.

“I do live. I live the way I do to survive.” Melissa stood and headed for the steps leading to the front of the library.

Casey stepped in her path. “I want you to do more than live. I want you to be happy.”

Melissa took one step down and turned around. “I am fine.”

“I know you think so.” Casey smiled. “Let’s go out. Have a few drinks.”

Melissa took another step down. “Funny.”  She should have run, fast and far as soon as she yelled at Casey. Guilt was her worse enemy, and Casey always managed to get what she wanted by using it against her. Melissa stood on the step below, looking up at Casey smiling as if she had won.

“It’ll be good for you. You need to refresh and regenerate. You can’t give your patients clarity if all you know is them and their problems. You need different perspectives. Perceptions and settings that have nothing to do with Psychiatry.”

Melissa pushed past Casey. “I’m going home.”

One long blue fingernail tapped the banister. “I’m going to keep bugging you until you give in,” Casey warned.

Melissa’s foot froze inches above the bottom step. “Why can’t you just let this go?”

Casey walked forward taking Melissa’s hands between her own. “I know what’s going on,” she said. “It’s why I came looking for you. It’s the anniversary of her death and I decided it’s time to make this date a little bit easier on you.”

Melissa slumped against the railing. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s probable.” Casey winked. “That’s why we are going out to celebrate her love and not her death.” Casey stepped in close. “You need socializing. Feed that over worked brain with nonsense and laughter.” Casey pushed. “You know I’m right.” She put her right hand over her heart. “I promise. One drink and I’ll set you free?”

“No.” This time she would stick to her guns. She would not be bamboozled into a night out. She would not let Casey’s pouting lips distract her. She was not going anywhere and that was that.

 

****

 

“This is the last time I’ll be able to check in for a while,” Mick said, to Antalyce. He cupped his hand over the phone and his ear to hear over the din of the noisy club. “My targets are about to meet.”

“You have eyes on them now?” Antalyce asked.

“One. The other is set to arrive in a few minutes.” Mick tracked the beautiful bartender as she moved from one end of the bar to the other, serving patrons and smiling. Mick saw the man who started this all, watching her as well. Mick couldn’t wait to end his miserable life.

“You’re sure you don’t need help?” Antalyce asked, but Mick heard the warning in her tone. “I can send Pete or Al to help.”

“Unnecessary. I’m in place and handling every step with precision. Pete or Al’s involvement will add more variables and throw off all my calculations.” And he owed it to Melissa to get this right since it was Mick was tricked into destroying her life. He would never admit that to his boss. They were all just weapons in Antalyce’s arsenal to use against her brother.

“This needs to happen soon, Mick,” she said. “Their involvement is crucial to the next mission.”

“I know what’s at stake,” he said, holding back his temper. “I’ve got to go. The first round is about to start.” Mick hit disconnect and watched, with anticipation as Melissa with her red-haired friend approached the bar.

 

****

 

Melissa stepped back from the blaring lights and music, kicking herself for being weak. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said, staring at the word Domino flashing black and gray over a small building. “Besides, I prefer small intimate taverns, simple drinks and a leave-me-be ambience.”

“What about the stink of body odor and death. Lice, knife fights and foul tasting blood?” Casey countered.

Melissa groaned. She’d already spotted three fang jockeys before stepping inside the building. Casey winked at them having no inhibitions or rules for whom she fed from. She would take it anywhere and anytime. It made perfect sense knowing how Casey survived the era of being hunted by doing what she needed to survive. Melissa considered her a free feeder. Melissa, on the other hand, kept to a set of solid rules on who she fed from and when.

Casey grabbed her hand and pulled her forward.

Loud music spilling from the entrance, beat against the inside of Melissa’s ribcage. She glanced at the ample crowd waiting anxiously to get in. She couldn’t see how far the line went because it disappeared around the building.

“I don’t want to stand in line for hours. I have things to do.” Melissa grimaced at the pathetic whine in her voice.

“Not the things you should be doing. Besides, I have VIP cards that will get us in right away.” She waved the cards in the air with a mischievous smile. “Our first drink is on the house.”

Casey handed her a card. The name Domino, like the flashing sign, took up one whole side. On the other was a personal invitation to get in without the wait. “How’d you get these?” Melissa asked.

Casey winked. “We received them in the mail a few weeks ago. They were addressed to you. I held on to them for a just-in-case moment.”

Melissa grudgingly trailed behind Casey. “One drink,” she said, hoping this gesture would waylay Casey’s concerns. She loved Casey and even though true happiness had personally eluded her, she’d make Casey happy with this small effort.

When the bartender turned to face them, the flesh on Melissa’s chest tingled and burned and she immediately lost herself in hooded, sunburst colored eyes, the heat in them reminded her of the sun she hadn’t felt in over two hundred years.

The bartender smiled. “What…” her voice wavered but she recovered quickly and turned up the brilliance of her smile. “Can I get you?”

Casey jabbed her in the back. “Hot woman’s talking to you,” she whispered. “Say something.”

Melissa cleared her throat, delaying her response so she could remember how to speak. “Red wine, please,” she sounded stilted to her own ears.

“Smooth,” Casey said.

The bartender smiled and leaned over the bar to get closer. “Dry, sweet or something in between?”

Melissa caught the swell of large breasts straining to be released from the tight red and black vest and looked away before lust betrayed her. She’d thought lust had died along with her love.

“C-chianti,” she stammered over the storm of the conversations. She needed to get out of there. This woman, this bartender had caught Melissa’s monster’s attention. Even though she’d fed recently, hunger disturbed the dust on her libido.

The beautiful bartender was back in moments. She slid the glass across the bar to Melissa.

Melissa grabbed the wine glass and finished the liquid in a few swallows.

“Melissa?” Casey whispered. “I thought you fed?”

I did.” Melissa responded in Casey’s mind.

“Really?”

Melissa did not like the way Casey drew out the word.

She caught the bartender smile at her while attending to another patron, and Melissa couldn’t remember a single solitary reason to remain celibate. “Shit.” Strength based on a life of solitude and independence, shattered under the assault of this compelling woman’s presence.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” The bartender asked, biting into her melon scented lower lip.

Melissa stifled a groan wondering if she was reading the signals wrong.

“This is Melissa,” Casey said to the bartender. “In case you were wondering.” She added.

The blonde licked her bottom lip and grinned. “Sage.”

Mortified, Melissa forgot to breathe. Her mouth moved but no sound rushed out. Sage blushed, and the sides of her mouth twitched as if she’d wanted to say something, but instead she tucked her lip between her teeth again.

Casey, damn it. What are you trying to prove?

For a very long time, Melissa existed without needing anyone. One woman long gone still owned her broken heart. She should…no would heed that lesson. She would never allow that kind of pain back into her life. Never again. For one thing, she wasn’t insane and second—okay she wasn’t insane.

Sage’s proximity, her lavender spice scent, the sultry sound of her voice and those damn eyes, snapped centuries of practiced control. Melissa’s fangs lengthened simply from the vibrations of Sage’s racing heart.

Sage broke eye contact. “If there’s anything else you want; Gabe will help you.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s time for my break.”

Melissa’s heart broke a bit more.

Gabe shot an annoyed look at Sage’s fleeing back.

Despite the rejection, her body refused to take the hint. Melissa’s nipples scraped pleasurably against the cotton blazer. The slight caress from her silk blouse and shift of the soft fabric of her slacks made her aware of how affected she was by this stranger. Sore echoes from old memories, she wished she could forget, filtered through the moment reminding her why she’d chosen a solitary existence. Melissa clenched her jaw to keep from screaming.

A fang jockey squeezed into the tiny space between Melissa and another patron. Unwelcome fingers caressed the back of her arm. “I’ve got plenty of what you need,” he whispered.

Melissa turned savage, baring her teeth at the man invading her space. His hand dropped to his side and he disappeared into the crowd.

Melissa stared at the door Sage had disappeared behind. Sage’s rebuff stung. She’d kept to herself for so long, she didn’t know how to deal with the upsurge of messy emotions.

Melissa turned an accusing stare on Casey.

I. Am. So. Sorry.” Casey sent the apology directly to Melissa’s mind, emphasizing the depth of her error. Telepathy was a more prolific usage of communication between vampires and the more sensitive human. Less than twenty percent of humans could receive messages sent in the form of emotion and energy and only if the vampire made direct eye contact. Though she knew Sage wouldn’t feel it, she projected deep sorrow in her direction.

Casey sandwiched Melissa’s hands in-between hers. She brought them to her lips, kissing each knuckle and then embracing them against her chest. The distressed look on her friend’s face chased away the sharpest points of her anger. Melissa forgave Casey. This was the kick in the heart she needed to validate the life she’d chosen. Unfortunately, the damage was done and Melissa would need time to heal.

Sage’s sensuous gaze had touched her heart and it still pulsed with expectancy. Something about how that woman walked, the way she talked and moved with familiar gestures had stealthily picked the lock to Melissa’s soul. Each time Sage smiled, Melissa’s long dead heart ached with hope. Now Melissa felt worse than empty. She felt alone.

To all mothers and fathers, grandparents step parents guardians etc. It is time. You need to show your children respect for yourselves in order to teach them respect for others. You need to step down off that pedestal to show them we are all equal and we all make mistakes. You need to teach your children to love themselves so they know how to treat others with the same considerations. You need to show them a good work ethic and stamina to reach higher than we have and go for their dreams. Teach them money isn’t everything. That anyone or anything that tramples on other people’s lives is oppression. That to make fun of the less fortunate is simply wrong. To grow their heart and minds beyond what they see and what ignorant people say. To make instinctual choices that betters our family, our friends our communities’ lives. To understand No means No. That how you treat others is a reflection of one’s self. That people need help no matter what the circumstance. Even if the don’t ask for it. To help without expectation. Teach forgiveness by forgiving. This is very difficult, but will make their lives happier despite whatever was done or said. To teach them anything said or done to them, is never about them. That actions occur from within. That a smile and a thank you is worth more than any sum of money. By doing this, you will show your children unconditional love. Nothing they do will make YOU walk away because humans make mistakes. And even if that mistake puts them in jail for the rest of their lives…Your love for them will never die. We need to move forward together.