She Dumped Me

Okay, so I am about to show my vulnerable side. As the title suggests, I am writing about being dumped. Nobody enjoys being dumped. Being dumped hurts and often forces one to ask themselves several questions that can not immediately be answered. Well, I am currently asking many questions that I haven't been able to answer. Unfortunately for me, she dumped me. Why? Was it something I did? Did I say the wrong thing? Was I too hard on her? Are we growing apart? Will there be an even stronger bond when we get through this? I DON'T KNOW. I NEED ANSWERS.

Our relationship started off on the rocky side. It may be an understatement to say I didn't think I had a chance to get on her good side. Many years ago her mood would change for the worse as soon as I would get close. In fact, one time I got too close and she scratched my face. She actually scarred me. The scar lasted about three years. That was approximately ten years ago. The funny thing is shortly after that our relationship started to drastically improve. We began seeing each other more often. I was no longer away at college and had the time to foster a quality relationship. I began to take her out more often. We quickly reached a point we both looked forward to our time together. Me and my beautiful niece. It was great, she reminded me of me. She possessed so many of my habits and characteristics. I actually started to develop some of her habits. My closest friends know my niece taught me how to roll my eyes (don't judge me). Many thought we were a perfect pair. I called her my Princess. And yes, she often acted like one. The two of us were close to inseparable.

Fast forward to preteen years. This is the beginning of the sassy period. The start of body development. The confusing years that include changes...yeah, those changes. Some how things went from me getting two calls a day to not having my calls returned. Why did things change? Was it my increased role regarding the importance of school? Is it because I started discussing different career paths with a twelve year old that clearly couldn't care less? Is it because her favorite uncle became her most strict disciplinarian? Maybe, just maybe it is a necessary stage she has to go through. I went through a rough patch with my older niece when she was close to that age. That rough patch lasted approximately three years. Will I have to wait that long this time around?

Trust me...I'm trying to show patience. This ish hurts! My Princess acts like she doesn't want anything to do with me. Unfortunately for me, she doesn't view my wallet as an extension of me. I call her Princess and she calls me Uncle can I have. Being the bigger person here should be easy, right? She is the preteen drama queen, right? So why am I the one losing sleep? Why am I getting glossy eyed thinking about my Princess. Damn, getting dumped hurts. It hurts even when you know, or at least pray, it is only a temporary break.

Mama's Boy - Good thing or bad?

I'm going to act as if I didn't disappear for several months (I need you to play along). Let's just say if I did actually disappear (which I'm not admitting to doing) it was necessary for me to move forward. Now that I've gotten that out of the way...

Understanding that most of my readers are female, I have a few questions to ask. Is dating a "Mama's Boy" good or bad? Does it matter to you? Do you feel the relationship a man has with his mom is indicative of how he'll treat you? Am I reading too much into this? As you may already know, most of my close friends are female. Because of this, I have already heard several responses to these questions.

I am extremely close to my mother. In the past I have been called a Mama's Boy. I never viewed this as an insult. Should I have?

All I Need Is 1 Mic - Find your mic

How many people can say they truly enjoy their work? Are you one of them? I recently changed careers (once again). Fortunately for me, I was taught the value in enjoying what I do. The need to make money still exist, but the importance of feeling fulfilled is as important for me. I have been able to consistently work in areas that I chose. These jobs were chosen because at different times, my passion led me to different places. Having been raised by my mother (those of you who know her just laughed), I'm not shocked that I haven't foolishly feared changing careers. I say foolishly only because some fear is expected.

The new job requires me to do much more than I initially expected. The new job has already required me to work some weekends. The new job has consistently caused me to go to work early and stay late (often on the same day). I am currently doing so much more than I expected to do when I accepted the job. Guess what? I have enjoyed every moment spent working on the new job. I am not shocked. Not at all. That is who I am. If I didn't enjoy the new job, this posting would probably be about me leaving a job I expected to be great. In a short period of time (less than 3-months) the impact I've made is clear. This isn't my opinion. This is what people have shared with me. I get excited knowing that this is only the beginning. I have so much more to offer and learn as I better understand the job. I truly hope all of you can feel what I've been fortunate to have felt several times.

If you aren't doing something you love, be careful. It has been proven...we can't get time back. Avoid being in a position where you have to ask yourself why didn't I value me or my time enough?

Break The Cycle - R.I.P. M. J.

I understand that for some this is a touchy subject. However, I also understand that there is a valuable lesson to be learned from this story. All of you that are interested have already searched the Internet and watched at least one of the many televised specials searching for answers. This posting has very little to do with M.J.s impact in music throughout the past four decades or the opportunities his success has led to in the entertainment industry. It has nothing to do with the questionable health of the King of Pop. This has everything to do with the poor decision making by the most popular entertainer in history. Michael Jackson has sold approximately 750 million records worldwide. He has 13 Grammy Awards and 13 number one singles (only counting his solo career).

With all of the money earned over the historic career, how could Michael Jackson be in debt? Remarkably, the answer is simple. The King of Pop died in debt due to poor decision making. The reason for the poor decision making may never be known, but the fact remains the cause of the enormous debt is poor decision making. As I stated, there is a valuable lesson to be learned from this story. It isn't necessary that one be a millionaire to learn from this tragic story. The principles behind financial management are the same for one earning $40,000 or $4,000,000.

With frivolous (a.k.a. STUPID) spending being pushed primarily through the "new hip-hop" culture, should we expect more financially appalling stories? Why are so many people foolish enough to follow the blueprint for financial ruin? The formula is simple; if you earn $50 but spend $100 you will end up in debt. Are that many people incapable of living within their means? Is it because of societal pressures or personal ignorance? There are many lessons in this sad saga, among the most crucial is the often ignored obligation to becoming financially educated.

Tell Her Today

Well, she is a woman. She may not say it, but she loves to hear those words. It doesn't matter if you're her son or daughter. Your mother and mine love to hear "I Love You." For them, it serves as a thank you. Thank you for all of the sacrifices made. It may remind them that they're sacrifices were worth it all. Although Mother's Day has passed, there are still numerous reasons to show appreciation for all she has done.

So often life proves to be an interesting cycle. If you're lucky, life starts with many people expressing their love for you. As one gets older, the unfortunate reality is realized...many of us hear those three words less often. However, most would agree the one person who remains consistent is MOM. Big Bro. and Little Sis. still love you (probably as much) but for various inexplicable reasons they say it much less. Then we (generally speaking) have children and accept that it is all about them. They need to know that they are loved. They need to be told how special they are. They are arguably the reason we hear "I Love You" much less. Very few of us would choose feeding our ego over properly developing a child's self-esteem and self-worth. Throughout this process (only if you're lucky), MOM has never stopped telling you "I Love You." If you are really lucky, she even calls you that embarrassing alias before expressing her feelings of affection.

Now that you recognize how good those words help you feel...go ahead...call Mom.

HYPHEN

Have you ever been surprised by how you looked in a photo
Were you ever shocked by your voice on a message
Do you ever question who you are
One of the hardest questions I’ve ever been asked was
“What will my dash represent?”
Yeah, that dash between the year you’re born & the year you die
Wow, kind of tough to answer (right?)
Well, pictures always surprise me & my voice always shocks me
I guess I am still learning who I am
I’ve been told I’m cute; but I’ve also been rejected
I’ve been told I’m funny; but not everyone laughs with me
Many have said I’m smart; but I’ve never averaged a 4.0
Can I be a role model if I too seek one
Can my dash represent unanswered questions?
Organized confusion? Utter chaos?
Damn, maybe it represents –

Okay, so now you know how I came up with the name My Hyphen (for the Blog & poem). I hope you enjoyed my poem. Please share your thoughts/comments with me. I'll share more with you in the future.

Sweet Potato Pie

Sorry for the delay, but I have had a rough couple of weeks (like most of America). Now I am back with a great post from www.people-places-things.blogspot.com
This will prove to be the wording for some of those feelings many of you had during your college days. For others, this can help you add to the list of reasons to dislike a sibling (not really, but do you ever need help adding to that list?). Oh well, I hope you enjoy.

I had to get a story off my chest that I’ve been thinking about a whole lot lately. And it has nothing to do with "style" in the traditional sense. But, I’ve been wanting to share this conversation I had with my mother some years ago for a minute and that desire has increased since Barack Obama became President. And then last night when I learned of the allegations against singer Chris Brown involving songstress Rihanna, I knew I had to post it. It might take me a minute to get to the point of this but stay with me please, there is a definite jewel at the end of this (kinda long) story.

About seven years ago, a friend and I were discussing being away at college in my kitchen while my mother cooked. I joked that although my mother sent food to my brother while he was away at college, I never remember her doing the same for me. It was one of those moments when I was joking, but not really joking. I proceeded to share with my friend all about how my mother would bake sweet potato pies from scratch, freeze them and overnight them to Virginia from New York and how my brother and his buddies in his dorm would inhale them in less than 48 hours of receipt.

Now while circumstances were indeed different when I went away to college (I didn’t live in a traditional dorm and had access to a full kitchen so I could always cook when I didn’t want the café food, I wasn’t as far away as my bro was, etc.) I still felt some kinda way about not getting those pies overnighted to me like my big bro did. My mother being the type of mother she is could sense this and politely said to me, "One day when you have a son of your own you’ll understand."

I didn’t get what she meant by that until a few years later. But when I did finally get it, it was like someone dropped a piano on my foot. The world, yes even with Barack Obama being President, has a way of putting Black men through the wringer. Really, through the ringer. And no I’m not claiming that all Black men are created equal because in my opinion, they are not. For every Barack Obama there is a shiftless, non-child support paying dude who thinks the world owes him something. Please understand that I realize this. But there are also a lot of Black men who have unfortunately never been told their worth. Never been introduced to the likes of Thurgood Marshall or Vivien Thomas or even Floyd Flake. And so when you’re only shown negative images of yourself, constantly at that, you typically start to believe them. See, now I understand how homemade sweet potato pies help to balance that a whole lot. They let you know that someone is rooting for you. That someone has your back unconditionally and is supporting you and your dreams and aspirations. As a woman, I am now usually able to tell when a man has had someone bake sweet potato pies for them at some point in their lives. It isn’t always their mother either. It might be a grandmother (I think that was the case for Barack), it might be an aunt or grandmother, it might even be a teacher.

There is an old adage that goes something like "Black women raise their daughters and love their sons." On the surface, some might think that is what I’m reinforcing in this blog post. But it so isn’t. On the contrary, I hope that folks see I’m saying it is even more important that we encourage Black men to get and keep their ish together. Sweet potato pies, to me, can actually help to do that. These pies can be in the form of genuine encouragement, a hug or a smile. I’ve had situations occur with my brother, male amigos and Mr. TK of walking into a "posh" hoity toity boutique to know that they experience ish I don’t even think twice about, even as a Black woman. (By the way, for every time that my mom baked a sweet potato pie for my bro, my father was going in on my brother and riding him about something. Trust. But that’s a whole ‘notha post for another day…)

My mother has actually been sharing her wisdom on life with me over food for a while now, perhaps that is a southern thing. Mom, thanks for the love and the lessons, as always. Now, can you teach me how to bake a sweet potato pie?