<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617</id><updated>2012-01-25T14:50:55.753-05:00</updated><category term='president nomination'/><category term='perseverance'/><category term='change long lines'/><category term='funny'/><category term='basketball'/><category term='Dr. King&apos;s birthday and dream'/><category term='being alone'/><category term='reflections....and other stuff'/><category term='loss'/><category term='Not a housewife shared responsibility'/><category term='gangstas'/><category term='Rihanna and Chris Brown'/><category term='letting go caution'/><category term='Oscar nomination'/><category term='novel'/><category term='i&apos;m black and i&apos;m proud'/><category term='niggas'/><category term='thoughts'/><category term='Life&apos;s short............LIVE'/><category term='going to the movies alone'/><category term='left out'/><category term='rude'/><category term='Voter registration'/><category term='athletes rappers'/><category term='friends'/><category term='Never purchased a New Yorker magazine'/><category term='New York sports'/><category term='Michelle Obama'/><category term='family reunion'/><category term='fake campaign'/><category term='never will'/><category term='my son'/><category term='Love yourself'/><category term='Love the ones you&apos;re with'/><category term='sleeping too long'/><category term='From rain to tears to wet hair'/><category term='faith'/><category term='junk'/><category term='my book'/><category term='Free and low cost things to do in NYC'/><category term='inherited creativity'/><category term='Be a Hero'/><category term='falling'/><category term='Anti-Palin Protest'/><category term='editing my book'/><category term='nomination'/><category term='short story'/><category term='World Trade Center'/><category term='Can&apos;t wait to get to Sanford'/><category term='Checklist'/><category term='short story from high school'/><category term='This is my calling'/><category term='misery loves company'/><category term='Maya Angelou&apos;s take on haters'/><category term='biggie'/><category term='writing'/><category term='President Obama'/><category term='April National Poetry Month'/><category term='tennis'/><category term='murder and mayhem'/><title type='text'>Tammy's Thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'>Life is short 
Break the rules,
forgive quickly, 
kiss passionately, love truly, 
laugh constantly, 
And never stop smiling  
no matter how strange life is.
Life is not always the party we expected it to be 
but as long as we are here, we should smile and be grateful.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>141</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5025868349469374690</id><published>2011-06-13T13:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T14:13:33.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M3Ju7IVo8EU/TfZMypuVNbI/AAAAAAAAAgw/Bdu8Xy14y_Y/s1600/i_subscribe_to_creative_reality_button-p145345082176010403t5sj_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M3Ju7IVo8EU/TfZMypuVNbI/AAAAAAAAAgw/Bdu8Xy14y_Y/s320/i_subscribe_to_creative_reality_button-p145345082176010403t5sj_400.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617762018268624306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may sound funny but I cry whenever I watch talent or skill based reality shows.  There's something about watching people go for their dreams that touches me.  I want them to succeed.  I know what it's like to feel deep down in your soul that you have been called to do something.  To be given the chance to share your talent with the world has to be an amazing feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a writer.  It's what I was meant to do.  I may not have the means to make a living doing what I love but it will always be a huge part of my existence.  I'm not sure what I would do if I could not write.  Creative thoughts swirl through my head all day long.  I'm always thinking of something I can put on paper.  If I had my way I would lock myself in a room at least two hours a day and write, write, write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What it must be like for someone who has singing in their blood to go on a show like American Idol or The Voice and get the chance to realize their dream.  To be able to sing in front of millions of people each week has to be mind blowing.  I recently watched a show called Master Chef.  The contestants are all home cooks who aspire to be chefs.  They get to cook for three world famous chefs.  So one day you're at home cooking for your family and the next you're cooking for Gordon Ramsey.  Mind blowing!  It can't be easy to throw caution to the wind and try to realize your dream.  I don't know what I would do if my work was read by Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, or Alice Walker.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch these shows and I find myself weeping for those who don't succeed and shedding tears of happiness for those who do.  I know it may be a little corny, but it's just me putting myself in their place.  It's me living vicariously through fellow dream seekers.  I get a special feeling when I see that person from a small town trying to make it.  I love it when I see that thing in someone's eyes.  It's cool to see a designer watch their creation go down the runway.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we all should have the chance to make our dreams come true.  As I do some soul searching I realize that I am holding myself back.  It's almost like I fear succeeding.  I'm not sure I would know how to handle it and that scares me.  I know what I am capable of.  I've written a novel that I read five times and I still love it.  I know that I have to stop making excuses and get on the ball.  I may not have the money to do what i'd like to, but I need to find a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend sent me a quote that I try to keep in my head.  "You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm working on it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5025868349469374690?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5025868349469374690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5025868349469374690&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5025868349469374690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5025868349469374690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2011/06/this-may-sound-funny-but-i-cry-whenever.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M3Ju7IVo8EU/TfZMypuVNbI/AAAAAAAAAgw/Bdu8Xy14y_Y/s72-c/i_subscribe_to_creative_reality_button-p145345082176010403t5sj_400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5501604623152897342</id><published>2011-03-24T09:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T09:51:55.992-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2bu1nuKfiA/TYtBK4l3zWI/AAAAAAAAAgc/wnGvBgwllvs/s1600/LessonPlan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2bu1nuKfiA/TYtBK4l3zWI/AAAAAAAAAgc/wnGvBgwllvs/s320/LessonPlan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587631417928961378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you're in a stressful situation it's hard to see things clearly, even when you think you are.  You feel like you're looking at things from all angles.  It's not until after all is said and done that you realize your vision may have been cloudy.  Worry has a way of making things a little murky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is never a time in life when you stop learning.  I prayed for a lesson to be learned by someone else and realized that I was the one I should have been praying for.  I was the one who received the lesson.  There are things that I needed to hear and see for myself so that I could come to the realization that it was time to let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when you see a train of disaster coming down the tunnel.  You try to prevent someone you love from getting hit but they just won't get out of the way.  You pull, and pull, and pull, and worry to no avail.  The train enters the station and &lt;em&gt;BOOM!&lt;/em&gt;  You're left wondering what else you could have done to change the circumstances.  Damn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disaster happened.......Stress level at an all time high.......Guilt........Fear.....Questions.....What if.....Why...Dust settled......Ponder......Think.......Retrospect......Eyes open......Lesson learned...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord really does work in mysterious ways.  I learned a lesson I didn't even realized I needed.  I have a habit of reacting too fast at times.  I'm working on it but it's not an easy habit to break, especially when it comes to the people I love.  I want the best for them.  I just have to realize that some battles just aren't mine to fight.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From now on I plan to try harder to slow it all down.  Sometimes my passion is mistaken for anger.  I just don't like to see people I love being hurt or taken advantage of.  I have to realize that it's not always necessary to voice your opinion.  It's not always wanted.  Sometimes you have to just let go and let God.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm thankful for the lesson i've learned.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No testimony without test...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5501604623152897342?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5501604623152897342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5501604623152897342&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5501604623152897342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5501604623152897342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2011/03/lessons.html' title='Lessons'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2bu1nuKfiA/TYtBK4l3zWI/AAAAAAAAAgc/wnGvBgwllvs/s72-c/LessonPlan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-8624050270302753150</id><published>2011-03-21T20:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T21:56:56.037-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Aha!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QavpLoy034A/TYf58U2dHhI/AAAAAAAAAgU/0En3spNJ82o/s1600/aha_moment.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 110px; height: 145px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QavpLoy034A/TYf58U2dHhI/AAAAAAAAAgU/0En3spNJ82o/s320/aha_moment.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586708677560966674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when I feel like the world is on my shoulders.  The feeling doesn't last that long.  I realize that it's not the world, it's just life.  It's my life.  It's my thoughts.  It's me.  I hold on to so much.  One of these days i'm going to learn how to let it all go.  I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen when the damn breaks.  I just know it has to happen.  That's the only way i'm going to be able to show the world who I really am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone once told me that I don't allow myself to be as powerful as I can be.  It's so true.  I always pull back.  I have a lot to offer the world but I continue to let my fear of both success and failure hold me back.  I never want to look like a fool and at the same time I wonder if I can handle the things i've dreamed of for a very long time.  I often wonder if I am worthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made so many mistakes in life.  Some of my mistakes have affected people in ways that may never be corrected.  That weighs heavy on my heart.  I feel like I need to punish myself or that I don't deserve things I know I am capable of achieving.  It took a lot of soul searching for me to realize that i'm holding myself back on purpose.  What an aha moment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I don't get my heart out of the past and my head into the future life is really going to pass me by.  I'm going to look up and realize that I didn't do one thing I wanted to do with my life.  That is unacceptable.  I have way too much to offer.  I keep telling myself to let go, let go, let go, but I feel like a mummy of emotion.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been things that people have said or done to me that i've allowed to scar me.  I hear their words in my head all the time and transport back to teenage years and even specific dates.  I watch these same people have wonderful relationships with others who say amazing things about them and wonder if it was all in my head.  I say, "Maybe it's me," when I know it's not.  I feel guilty for the animosity I feel, even though I know it is warranted.      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl has a lot going for her and even when she doesn't feel it, she believes it.  Who knows what will happen when the two connect.  Knowing who I am and being who I am are two different things.  I'm not allowing the real me to shine.  I'm blocking my blessings on purpose and letting fear take over.  I've tried so many times to overcome but I always allow myself to be pulled back.  Sometimes i'm on the other end of the rope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to get it together.  I'll get those voices out of my head and knocking the angel and devil off my shoulders.  It may take a little time but i'll get there.  All that I want out of life will be mine.  I'm claiming it.  I have no choice.  I'm no ones victim, certainly not my own.  I'm a fighter.  Lately i've been feeling sorry for myself and I thought I was over that.  I can't say exactly what happened.  I just know i'm over it.  I should have a book on the shelves right now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to hit the ground running and get it together.  When it happens, they won't know what hit them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-8624050270302753150?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/8624050270302753150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=8624050270302753150&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8624050270302753150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8624050270302753150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2011/03/aha.html' title='Aha!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QavpLoy034A/TYf58U2dHhI/AAAAAAAAAgU/0En3spNJ82o/s72-c/aha_moment.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3599110637730355362</id><published>2011-01-03T13:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T13:13:56.532-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Note to self...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TSIRucublUI/AAAAAAAAAgI/mUlkQKCkVFg/s1600/Glass-of-water.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TSIRucublUI/AAAAAAAAAgI/mUlkQKCkVFg/s320/Glass-of-water.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558024379811206466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This glass is half full.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3599110637730355362?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3599110637730355362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3599110637730355362&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3599110637730355362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3599110637730355362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2011/01/note-to-self.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TSIRucublUI/AAAAAAAAAgI/mUlkQKCkVFg/s72-c/Glass-of-water.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2292903901308106457</id><published>2010-12-07T08:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T11:40:54.019-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Trying....</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm trying to change my way of thinking&lt;br /&gt;Gotta stop letting the negative thoughts and self doubt creep in&lt;br /&gt;Stop questioning the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;And enjoy the colors&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to improve my way of living&lt;br /&gt;Get out of my head&lt;br /&gt;And just let things be&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying...&lt;br /&gt;Trying to see that half full glass&lt;br /&gt;Keep myself from ducking&lt;br /&gt;And trying to avoid the shoe I think is about to drop&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to be more positive&lt;br /&gt;Need to stop preparing for the worst&lt;br /&gt;And accept that whatever is happening may actually be for the best&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying...&lt;br /&gt;Trying to let go of the grip I sometimes keep on my emotions&lt;br /&gt;And let people see who I really am&lt;br /&gt;Because who I am is awesome!&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to be me&lt;br /&gt;To let go&lt;br /&gt;And unleash the fierceness inside &lt;br /&gt;Believe me&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying...&lt;br /&gt;I guess i've been let down&lt;br /&gt;Felt some pain&lt;br /&gt;Been through a few storms&lt;br /&gt;And my umbrella of protection is built of brick&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to look ahead &lt;br /&gt;And stop peeking in the rear view mirror&lt;br /&gt;It's just not that easy for me&lt;br /&gt;But i'm trying&lt;br /&gt;So many good things in my life&lt;br /&gt;My family&lt;br /&gt;My friends&lt;br /&gt;My talents and blessings&lt;br /&gt;My grandbaby, the light of my existence&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to concentrate on those things&lt;br /&gt;Not the struggle&lt;br /&gt;Not the disappointment&lt;br /&gt;Not the uncomfortable situations&lt;br /&gt;Not the things I let keep me from shining&lt;br /&gt;I am greatness&lt;br /&gt;I am deserving&lt;br /&gt;I am blessed&lt;br /&gt;I am God's child&lt;br /&gt;That is where my concentration needs to be&lt;br /&gt;The place that has a home for my heart&lt;br /&gt;My wishes&lt;br /&gt;My desire&lt;br /&gt;My dreams&lt;br /&gt;I will get there some day&lt;br /&gt;And all of my trying&lt;br /&gt;Will result in the fulfillment of my destiny&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2292903901308106457?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2292903901308106457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2292903901308106457&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2292903901308106457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2292903901308106457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/12/im-trying.html' title='I&apos;m Trying....'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5417649023102683139</id><published>2010-08-10T11:00:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T12:27:51.276-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission Statement:  Live!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TGF5GYy1dJI/AAAAAAAAAfs/sl9KbpZ89MU/s1600/ab_life55.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TGF5GYy1dJI/AAAAAAAAAfs/sl9KbpZ89MU/s320/ab_life55.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503813370265302162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm at a point in my life where i'm beginning to care more for myself and less about what other people think.  It doesn't matter who it is.  I'm on a mission to treat people the way they treat me, and to treat myself better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone treats me as if they don't want to be bothered, I will no longer be extending any olive branches.  I mean really, can you make someone feel a way about you that they really don't?  Is it worth the energy?  There are so many positive things to do with time.  Why waste it on negativity and bad vibes?  I want to be around people who want to be around me.  I want to be able to be who I am and not have to make any excuses.  Those who truly love me know and appreciate my heart.  Those are the people I choose to spend time with and energy on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is so worth living, and living to the fullest.  I haven't been doing that.  I've just been getting by and, at times, hoping no one noticed that I wasn't complete.  Living concerned is not living at all.  Wondering how you can go about YOUR life and still keep others liking you or not being upset with you is draining.  You can't please everyone so you might as well do what makes you happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all about learning to love yourself completely, faults and all.  It's not easy.  I know i'm not perfect and everyone will not like me.  That's just life.  Sometimes those you care for the most just aren't good for you.  When you finally figure that out all you can do is take a deep breath and live.  Live your life.  Live the life you deserve, the good life, the grand life, the fulfilling life.  Do you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thankful that I am getting to the place where my soul can be happy.  My life hasn't really been that bad.  I've gone through some things and even put others through some, but i'm still here and so are they.  I guess we all have to learn and decide how to move on in the best manner that is best for us.  I'm not 100% there but i'm happier with myself and my circumstances than I have been in a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm letting go.  It's time to surrender.  The negative energy and vibes can no longer hold me back.  I love me more than ever and I know who has the same intentions for me that I have for myself.  I have goals and dreams that I want to accomplish.  You can't do it all alone.  Everyone needs people in their corner they know they can trust.  I have been blessed with quality folks, folks who go to bat for me when I don't have the strength to go there for myself.  When those who I thought I would be there for me let me down, I knew where to turn.  What a blessing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not the time to live in the past.  It's gone and cannot be changed.  Those who live in the past are doomed to repeat it.  They're limiting their future.  I'm tired of doing that.  It's all about what's to come.  My future can only be as bright as I allow.  My actions will determine the outcome.  No more blocking my blessings.  No more allowing others to stop me from living my life.  If a miserable existence is what someone else chooses I cannot participate and allow myself to be dragged down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always known life was worth living to the fullest, whatever that means.  It's in the eye of the beholder.  When I look into my granddaughter's eyes and she smiles or I walk into a room and she reaches for me, I know that I am living.  She makes my heart smile.  She makes me want to be the best me and I realize that's whatever makes me happy and not what anyone else thinks it should be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5417649023102683139?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5417649023102683139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5417649023102683139&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5417649023102683139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5417649023102683139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/08/mission-statement-live.html' title='Mission Statement:  Live!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TGF5GYy1dJI/AAAAAAAAAfs/sl9KbpZ89MU/s72-c/ab_life55.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7744320242368234455</id><published>2010-07-09T14:19:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T15:17:32.241-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Lia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TDd1vmb6KAI/AAAAAAAAAfk/73Ifr_R79cU/s1600/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TDd1vmb6KAI/AAAAAAAAAfk/73Ifr_R79cU/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491987731233515522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on "vacation" with my husband for almost a week.  I say, "vacation" because we didn't really go anywhere or do much of anything.  I think this time would be better served if I called it relaxation instead of vacation.  We visited our son's Godmother in Virginia and my second mother (traditionally called mother-in-law) in South Carolina.  There hasn't been much excitement, just a lot of taking it easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing wrong with kicking back with family and enjoying life.  I'm just in the mood for clear water, fun times, and a little escape.  I'm ready to say goodbye to the United States for a while and take in a new culture and get away for real.  I haven't REALLY been away in a couple years and it's time.  I need it.  Life has been getting to me and I need a good week of not having to think about this or that.  This girl is in need of times that require letting her hair down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that keeps it all together for me is being a grandmother.  I enjoy that role more than words can describe.  The whole time i've been away, i've been wondering what my granddaugher is doing and hoping that I didn't miss her doing something new.  It's so hard to leave her.  She's wonderful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i'm holding her I don't think of clear water or letting my hair down.  All I can think of is looking into her eyes and seeing her smile.  Her laugh turns me into a pile of mush.  It's the best sound in the world.  She's four months now and watching her experience the world is such a joy.  Every little thing is fantastic to her.  The way her eyes widen when she sees bright colors or her focus when she is trying to hold on to something is so refreshing.  What a wonderful world it would be if we held on to that our entire lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart smiles when I think of litle Lia.  She is the bright spot in my world.  Being her grandmother has changed my life and I am so grateful she is here.  I was talking with a friend a while ago and she said something about not wanting her sons to be fathers because she knew they weren't ready and she's not ready to be a grandma.  I told her I wasn't crazy about the idea of my 19 year old son becoming a dad but now that his is, and Lia is in our lives, I couldn't imagine it being any other way.  I don't even remember what it was like when she wasn't with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we're her in South Carolina for one more day.  I'm a little bored and haven't really been out of the house much.  It doesn't seem to bother anyone else.  They can sleep most of the day and watch movies when they wake.  I'd like to be doing things.  We've played a few games of spades and sat around laughing and joking around and that was great.  I'd still love to do something else, even though it's hot at hell outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'm ready to go home.  It's been real, but i'm missing Lia...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7744320242368234455?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7744320242368234455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7744320242368234455&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7744320242368234455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7744320242368234455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/07/missing-lia.html' title='Missing Lia'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/TDd1vmb6KAI/AAAAAAAAAfk/73Ifr_R79cU/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2866768853328165134</id><published>2010-06-01T21:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:09:30.332-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's what I do</title><content type='html'>I'm not really that good at networking.  I know that is going to have to change if I want to sell novels.  My book and I are a package deal that I will have to sell, sell, sell.  So, even though it's not my deal, i'm going to have to bite the bullet and get it done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in the nail salon waiting to get a mani and pedi when a man walked in and asked if anyone wanted to hear about his novel.  He said he wasn't trying to make us buy it; he just wanted us to listen.  I was sitting right next to the door so I was the first person he came to.  Knowing that I will be in his shoes one day, I already knew I would not only listen but also purchase a copy of his work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me about his novel and I told him that I was a writer as well.  I asked a few questions and we had a very good conversations.  The author signed my copy, gave me his email address and phone number, and said he would help me in any way he could.  It felt great.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really love to talk to other authors.  It's time for me to seek them out and get this thing going.  I know I wasn't put here to sit at a cubicle day after day.  Getting up at 5:30 in the morning has become more of a mental than physical challenge.  My mind is weighed down with I don't want to and the pointer on my right hand seems to be automatically programmed to hit the snooze button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first book is done and i've been doing a lot of editing.  I've read it through so many times that I am ready to write the next one.  I have so many ideas running through my head and i'm ready to write.  I know the first one still isn't in print but I don't think I can hold out any longer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when I don't feel right because I don't have a pen in my hand.  I don't like to hit the computer until I have something written.  There's just something about a pen and a pad that does it for me.  My husband laughs at me because I get excited when I see a nice pen.  I have a drawer full of all kinds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I always say, "I'm a writer, it's what I do."  It's what I love.  It's awesome to have that thing that makes m happy.  I know that i'm blessed because not everyone has that.  I wrote a book and can't wait to get started on the next one.  That's a great thing.  All I know is I have to get back to doing what I do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2866768853328165134?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2866768853328165134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2866768853328165134&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2866768853328165134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2866768853328165134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/06/its-what-i-do.html' title='It&apos;s what I do'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6137566500357969415</id><published>2010-05-03T22:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T23:00:46.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I am what I am...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S9-NxjWSfgI/AAAAAAAAAfM/3LFnwX6s1cc/s1600/writing-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S9-NxjWSfgI/AAAAAAAAAfM/3LFnwX6s1cc/s320/writing-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467244355092905474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished writing my novel a while ago.  The last period on the page was followed by a feeling of exhilaration that I have never felt.  It was one of the most exciting moments of my life.  I couldn't believe it!  I'd been wanting to write a book for a long time and had a lot of starts and stops.  My dream had finally come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hit the ground running and started researching and making plans.  I started a book club with some of my favorite people and had them read the book and give me their comments.  It was exciting.  I have read through my book four times for editing purposes and still love it.  I got my pen out and went to town every chance I got.  My favorite time to edit was when I was on the bus in the morning on my way to work.  I'd take my pen and paper out as soon as I sat down.  It took my mind off of going to work and allowed me to escape into the story I created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my book, I really do.  I think it's amazing and sometimes I find it hard to believe the words on the page are actually mine.  I'm pretty good.  Reading my book forced me to recognize my talent.  That's something I had a hard time doing in the past but now it's official.  I'm a writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I started to plan my son's baby shower, I decided to take a break from the book process.  I also needed a mental break for a few reasons.  The shower was a success but the things that forced my mind into a fog were still there.  I did what I could to get it together but eventually realized that life is always going to throw curve balls now and then.  I decided to keep pushing whether I got hit or was able to duck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my first book club meeting of ther year last month.  It went very well.  We decided to read through the book and edit together.  I never knew hearing the words  could make such a big difference.  I really enjoyed the group editing and we will do that at every meeting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been jotting down ideas for my second book since I began the editing process.  I plan to make a series of novels.  I'm ready to start part two and i'm not even done with part one.  I'm sure I can do both.  There are so many ideas in my head that I can barely stand it.  I also miss writing.  It's what I do and it makes me happy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to the day when I leave the cubicle for good and begin to make my living as a writer.  I feel that is my destiny and I have to make it happen.  I'm ready.  It's my time.  I really miss putting pen to paper and creating.  It's what I was born to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6137566500357969415?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6137566500357969415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6137566500357969415&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6137566500357969415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6137566500357969415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-what-i-am.html' title='I am what I am...'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S9-NxjWSfgI/AAAAAAAAAfM/3LFnwX6s1cc/s72-c/writing-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2537525520749908046</id><published>2010-04-21T15:35:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T15:55:20.917-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Praying and Worrying</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S89WW6Y5CvI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hn_sJ_d8KJI/s1600/Dont_Worry_Be_Happy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S89WW6Y5CvI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hn_sJ_d8KJI/s320/Dont_Worry_Be_Happy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462679824654469874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been having a tough time with a few things in my life.  I'm trying to adopt a new attitude and not worry.  I keep telling myself that things will work out the way they're suppose to work out.  It's not easy to think that way when your life feels like one big domino effect that won't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't really talked to anyone about what i'm going through.  It's just not that effective.  An older, wiser friend of mine moved away and we correspond by email.  I turn to her a lot when I need a new perspective on things.  I emailed her and her response helped me to change my thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend said a lot of things in her emails but the one thing that stuck to me was, "If you pray, why worry and if you worry why pray."  I say a prayer of thanks every morning and have a conversation with God.  I talk to him like the father he is.  I speak of what i'm going through, where I am, and mostly where i'd like to be.  I pray to be a better person and ask for strength to make it through things.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always known that I have to do my part if I want my prayers to be answered.  I'm not so sure I did anything with that knowledge.  I've always tried to do my best.  Did I ask for strength because I felt I did not have it?  Was I relying of God to give me strength that I wasn't working for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worry has been a huge problem for me.  I have worried so much at some times that I could barely function.  I worried all day and said a prayer at night, and when I woke up, asking the Lord to help me through things.  The cycle went on and things didn't really change that much.  If I prayed why did I worry?  Did I worry too much to pray?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have things going on in my life that are not so great.  There are also the things that make me feel that I am truly blessed.  I have to make my prayers count.  They have to mean something.  It's just not right to pray for things you aren't working toward.  I have to stop the worry.  It's time to put in the work to being a stronger person.  Things will work out the way they're suppose to.  It doesn't always mean I will get my way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does God wonders why I bother to pray if i'm not going to act like I want the help I ask for?  Blessings don't just come.  Change doesn't just come.  Effort leads to reward.  It's time for me to really let go and let God.  I cannot control everything that happens in my life.  You can't have a testimony without a test.  From this day forward I will do my best to learn a lesson from the hard times.  I know that will help me to appreciate the good ones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2537525520749908046?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2537525520749908046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2537525520749908046&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2537525520749908046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2537525520749908046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/04/praying-and-worrying.html' title='Praying and Worrying'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S89WW6Y5CvI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hn_sJ_d8KJI/s72-c/Dont_Worry_Be_Happy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3620350462546095361</id><published>2010-04-01T12:18:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T14:02:06.179-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S7Te4-LLsPI/AAAAAAAAAec/H_MP60ntObQ/s1600/life-changes.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S7Te4-LLsPI/AAAAAAAAAec/H_MP60ntObQ/s320/life-changes.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455230118996455666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been alive for 42 rocky, up and down, years.  Life hasn't been easy, but I wouldn't exactly say it's been hard.  I've had a decent life.  Looking back I realize that I spent some years taking my time.  I was as proactive as I should have been and had a way of waiting until the last minute to make things happen.  That always made things more difficult than they should have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been a few experiences that have changed my life.  One of my favorite memories is going to Yankee games with my father.  He started taking me when I was pretty young.  I love the Yankees and I know it is because of the times I shared with my dad.  We had so much fun.  There were a few Knick games here and there, but the Yankees were OUR team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love of sports continued to grow.  It got to a point where I knew more about baseball, basketball, and boxing than the guys my age.  Some liked it and others didn't.  I didn't care.  My favorite guy to discuss the sports world with was my daddy anyway.  I really didn't care what they thought.  My father and I had some great conversations and debates about sports.  The foundation for them all was started at Yankee Stadium when I was a little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father and I always had great talks.  There was a time when he was the only person in the world I trusted with everything.  He never judged me and always listened.  If he would have been more present in my life I think things would have been different.  I would have been more open with my feelings.  My father had a drinking problem.  He would have years of sobriety and things would be great.  Whenever he disappeared I knew he was drinking again.  He never liked to be around me when he surrendered to the monkey on his back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The absence of my father definitely changed my life.  It's always been hard for me to let my guard down.  I'm sure it's because I have a fear of disappointment.  I guess i'm still that little girl sitting in the living room waiting for her daddy to arrive.  My heart was always filled with love for my father, no matter how many times he broke his promises.  I'm still that way with the people I love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S7Te_QJA1wI/AAAAAAAAAek/CH32ArEZ_X4/s1600/life-changes.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S7Te_QJA1wI/AAAAAAAAAek/CH32ArEZ_X4/s320/life-changes.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455230226898409218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becoming a mother at 16 changed my life immensely.  I appreciated the responsibility of nurturing my daughter in the womb and being responsible for her life and took it very seriously.  There were a lot of complications that had nothing to do with the pregnancy.  Family doesn't always see the bright side when a young girl becomes pregnant.  Because of that, I leaned on my boyfriend more than anyone else.  We felt that it was us against the world.  We didn't even trust those who seemed to be in our corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a lot of ways that has not changed.  We've been married for 21 years and still have the same mentality.  We go through ups, downs, highs and lows but always stand firm.  We had to hold tight to one another when I got pregnant and I guess we never let go.  There will always be struggles and hard times but we learned at an early age how to work through them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always tried to be there for the people I love.  I may not have worn my heart on my sleeve but i'm sure they knew how I felt.  I didn't really think much of speaking the words; it was always about actions.  My father's death changed that.  I was not able to be with him or tell him good bye.  I simply received a phone call telling me he passed.  Finding out about his death that way was definitely life changing.  What I would not give to have been able to tell him how special he was to me and how much I loved him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day I found out my father was gone, something in me changed.  Since then I have made it a point to tell the people I love how I feel about them.  Whenever I have a telephone conversation with someone I care about, I make sure to end it by saying, "I love you."  Life is just too short.  You never know what may happen.  My father taught me a lot both in life and death.  No one I love will leave this earth without knowing how I feel about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S7Te4-LLsPI/AAAAAAAAAec/H_MP60ntObQ/s1600/life-changes.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S7Te4-LLsPI/AAAAAAAAAec/H_MP60ntObQ/s320/life-changes.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455230118996455666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life goes on and things continue to change.  I have had some wonderful and hard times that I carry with me.  I've learned the most from the hard times.  You cannot have a testimony without a test.  There was a time when I was not able to pick myself up from difficult situations.  I thought I didn't have the strength.  I am 42 years old and i'm just really starting to realize that i'm strong enough to get through.  Looking back I actually see that I had strength when I thought I did not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rough times prepare you for better times.  I have two grown children.  They're both wonderful people.  I did the best I could as a parent and made a lot of mistakes.  Despite my errors I take delight in knowing that I had a part in the presence of two great people in this world.  They are amazing!  I look at them and know that there is strength in me.  The 16 year old mom I was had no idea what to do.  She just found a way.  I continue to do that every day of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that i'm a grandmother I see what it was all for.  The birth of my granddaughter is the latest in a series of life changing moments.  She has changed my heart and warmed my soul.  I held her and cried the other day because I realized how blessed I truly am.  I also thought how happy her great grandfather would have been to meet her.  In the midst of my thankful tears, she smiled and I felt like my daddy was there with me and things were coming full circle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3620350462546095361?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3620350462546095361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3620350462546095361&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3620350462546095361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3620350462546095361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/04/life-changes.html' title='Life Changes'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S7Te4-LLsPI/AAAAAAAAAec/H_MP60ntObQ/s72-c/life-changes.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-473806077856709033</id><published>2010-03-03T11:42:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T12:20:42.559-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Grandma Is Born</title><content type='html'>In my last post I talked about real love.  I haven't always been sure what that was or if I experienced or even gave it.  It was somewhat of a mystery to me.  I didn't always have the confidence or trust that things were genuine.  Of course I feel loved by those in my life that I cherish.  I love my family and friends very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the doubts I had faded away February 21, 2010.  That is the day that my granddaughter, Lia, was born.  I never knew love like this existed.  Being a grandmother changes you immediately.  My heart was filled with unconditional love the moment she was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my children but there is a space in my heart that can only be occupied by Lia.  It belongs to her.  It's different.  It's life changing.  I will never be the same.  I'm a grandma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S46Tm8wWewI/AAAAAAAAAd8/x2N15Mxzc1Y/s1600-h/Img_01210%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S46Tm8wWewI/AAAAAAAAAd8/x2N15Mxzc1Y/s320/Img_01210%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444451296890747650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at that precious little face and all I can do is smile...........or cry tears of joy.  She's so sweet.  I have never felt this way for another human being.  I had to call my mother and ask her if the same thing happened to her.  She just laughed.  It's nice to share that knowing giggle with my mom.  We bonded without saying a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I held Lia I felt like my heart was going to melt.  I took in every inch of her face.  Everyone says she looks like me.  Her other grandma wasn't too happy about it but guess who is.  It's a wonderful feeling to be able to hold my child's child in my arms.  She's so alert.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Lia looks into your eyes like there's something she needs to say.  She seems to have knowledge.  You feel like you can have a conversation with her and she'll understand what you're saying.  Man I love her!  All I could think of as I looked into her eyes was all the things we'll talk about and all the times we'll share.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a grandma.  It's like a rebirth.  I started to look at the world differently the moment I knew.  My children are grown and I don't worry about them as much as I once did.  They don't need me as much.  I will always do my best to be there for them.  They don't always want my help. They're adults.  I'll always be their mom.  Let's just say my role has changed.  I'm a grandma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband wasn't very happy when he found out our son was going to be a father.  He's 19 and has a lot of life to live.  Daddy never really adjusted.  It was hard on him.  He was worried about &lt;em&gt;his&lt;/em&gt; baby.  I did what I could to help but he never really warmed all the way up to the idea.  That all changed the moment he held Lia in his arms. His shoulders released and his heart warmed.  He was a proud grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so cute to watch him goo gooing and singing to Lia.  After only a few minutes he christened her Sugar Bear and let everyone in the room know he was the only one who could call her by that name.  Granddaddy was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am forever changed by the birth of my granddaughter.  She is amazing.  I feel amazing.  I'm going to do all I can to make sure she has the life she deserves.  Lia has no idea how she is loved.  We will all be sure to let her know as often as we can.  People say i'm different.  I was told I looked serene.  When they ask me why I simly look at them and say, "I'm a grandma."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my birthday, but I was reborn the day my granddaughter came into my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-473806077856709033?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/473806077856709033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=473806077856709033&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/473806077856709033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/473806077856709033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/03/grandman-is-born.html' title='A Grandma Is Born'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S46Tm8wWewI/AAAAAAAAAd8/x2N15Mxzc1Y/s72-c/Img_01210%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4506369718901873717</id><published>2010-02-09T12:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T14:07:47.448-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Real Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S3GWKLSLYTI/AAAAAAAAAd0/Y3YANSwC_ak/s1600-h/6a00d83452cba669e200e554703ad08834-800wi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S3GWKLSLYTI/AAAAAAAAAd0/Y3YANSwC_ak/s320/6a00d83452cba669e200e554703ad08834-800wi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436291326784790834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real love&lt;br /&gt;I'm searching for the real love&lt;br /&gt;Someone to set my heart free&lt;br /&gt;Real love&lt;br /&gt;I'm searching for a real love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This really applies to me.  I've been finding out that people I trust are not really who I thought they were.  I am very choosy when it comes to who I trust.  Knowing that I have made mistakes in judgment does not sit well with me at all.  If it was an acquaintance here and there it wouldn't be as bad.  When you find out that people who you thought were good friends, or even family members, don't have your best interest at heart it hurts.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is it?  How do you know it's real.  When do you allow yourself to trust when people you love hurt you?  It's hard.  I'm trying not to close off like I usually do but it's not easy.  It would be wonderful to sit down and have "real" conversations but people just aren't honest.  It's not easy to bare your soul to someone who dose not know how to take responsibility for the things they do and say.  What do you do when you know of someone's transgressions and they have no idea of your knowledge?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been lucky to have people in my life who I know I can count on and never have to question.  My two best friends have always been there for me.  They're very different.  One is always painfully truthful and knows how to snap me back into place.  The other shows me love that is so unconditional and transparent.  I can talk to her about anything and never feel judged.  That's...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two amazing children.  My daughter is stronger than she gives herself credit for.  She's amazingingly strong, even when she thinks she is weak.  Words cannot express how much I love her.  I am truly inspired by her.  My son is gentle and kind.  He was a very warm spirit.  I know that he will be a wonderful father.  I have made mistakes as a parent but when I look at them I feel good knowing that I played a part in adding two great people to the world.  They make the fake so much easier to handle.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love &lt;/em&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been married for a very long time.  My husband and I have gone through a lot.  People have their opinions and judgments and that's okay.  It's our life.  We grew up together and learned about life with one another.  We've both made mistakes and will continue to do so.  Through everything that has happened between us I have always known that he loved me.  Through the pain, and in the midst of the pleasure, I have always felt the love. The...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son's baby shower was a couple weeks ago.  Talk about love!  There was nothing but positivity and kindness in the air.  The support we were shown was something that i'm having a hard time putting into words.  I felt like I was walking around in a daze.  My heart was so full that I felt like it was oging to burst.  Every smile or kind word touched me in ways I cannot describe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son is not really one to show his emotions.  If you know him really well you can tell when he's excited.  He was so happy that it was totally apparent how he was feeling.  He glowed.  His girlfriend, who is really shy, walked around the entire place thanking people and introducing herself.  I know that was a big step for her.  She was beaming.  How could she not thank the people who showed her so much love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot thank the peole who helped me enough.  My friend Marilyn was there from the start.  My mother was such a big help that I had to try and convince her not to cook too much food. (it didn't work)  My friends Greg and Kim came to town the day before the shower and were such a huge part of it all that it was like they were there from the start.  They are such good people and great friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day before the shower was so nice.  My sister, Yvette, and friend, Glynis, came over and together with Kim and Marilyn we got all the souvenirs decorated.  It was cool.  It was more than just decorating candles and glasses.  Their support was what was important to me.  These are people who always support me.  They supported me with hard work at the shower as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love &lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My niece worked so hard.  She was my right hand and the reason for a lot of smiles.  She's such a good girl.  She worked so hard to make sure that her cousin's event went well.  Such a loving, caring young lady she is.  I know that I don't tell her how I feel about her enough.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love &lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's something that you can't explain.  Sometimes it comes from a child or a mate, other times it comes from a friend or a sister.  You just know when it's there.  You also know when it is not.  I'm learning to focus on the real and not be so overwhelmed by the fake.  What do you call fake love?  I guess it's not love at all.  Sometimes bloodlines make you think you have to feel for people.  That doesn't always have to be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people exclude you or make you feel like a side thought think of the &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you have in your life.  It's so much more important.  I'm learning to seek the positive, to feel the positive, to concentrate on the positive.  When I realize my trust is wasted I have to look to those who it's respected by.  I have a lot of good people in my life.  A lot of "real" people.  I have turned to the wrong folks at times without knowing it.  I've confided in people and heard whispers of my story.  I have opened my mouth to the wrong ones and they opened theirs to others.  I have gossiped when I should not have and have heard that only my end of the conversation was told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurts and it will for a while.  I know that it will not be that way forever.  I will come out of this a better person because of the lesson I will learn.  I'm not perfect.  I love hard.  When I give you a piece of my heart it is not a small thing.  I'm not talking about like.  I'm talking about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real Love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have disconnected from some but by the grace of God I have also reconnected with others.  Life is good.  It's not always what you want it to be.  You have to do the best with the lemons it drops in your lap.  I'm on my way to making that lemonade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4506369718901873717?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4506369718901873717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4506369718901873717&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4506369718901873717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4506369718901873717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/02/real-love.html' title='Real Love'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S3GWKLSLYTI/AAAAAAAAAd0/Y3YANSwC_ak/s72-c/6a00d83452cba669e200e554703ad08834-800wi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1878278299536390696</id><published>2010-01-19T15:53:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T16:14:20.098-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh baby!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S1Yfqo0yLbI/AAAAAAAAAdk/y8fa2fn7khk/s1600-h/baby1-main_Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S1Yfqo0yLbI/AAAAAAAAAdk/y8fa2fn7khk/s320/baby1-main_Full.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428561218215488946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son's baby shower is next Saturday and it's all I can think about.  I want everything to be right and I can't shake the feeling that i'm missing something.  It's going to be an event. I'm so thankful to my family and friends who are helping me.  I don't know what I would do without them.  I'd probably lose it for real.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm constantly looking at lists and comparing prices.  My husband thinks it's so funny.  You know how men do.  He likes to give up the cash and keep it moving.  He tries to act like he's removed from the situation but he'll slip an idea in here and there.  Some of them are actually good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want my son to enjoy himself and feel the love and support we all have for him.  Being a young parent is not easy at all, even when you have people behind you that will hold you down.  I didn't really have that so of course i'm going to make sure I do all that I can for him and my grandchild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although i'll be there to help the responsibility of his child will definitely be on his shoulders.  He needs to feel it.  Part of being a parent is finding your way.  I really don't have any doubt that my son will be an excellent father.  He has a very gently quality that will definitely come in handy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been something watching him grow.  I've definitely seen a big change in him since we all found out he was going to be a dad.  I'm impressed.  He had to give up his spot on his college basketball team to work and when he found a job they made him cut off his beloved mohawk.  Parents make sacrifices for their children.  He's already learning that lesson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We still don't know the sex of the baby.  I don't want to know.  My son's girlfriend has had two sonograms and the baby's legs were crossed both times.  That's grandma's baby.  Make that grand entrance and keep everyone in suspense.  I think not knowing is part of the joy of life in general.  We have another month left and I cannot wait to meet my grandbaby.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This child has changed a lot of lives already.  I have been taught a lesson in patience and understanding.  My son is learning a lesson in responsibility and growth.  My husband has learned that he must loosen his grip sometimes and let his children grow.  He cannot protect them from everything.  It's amazing how I have so much love in my heart for someone I haven't met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i'll be a little stressed out until next Saturday, but it's a happy stress.  I don't mind at all.  I smile when I think of our family and friends coming together to celebrate new life.  It's an amazing thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1878278299536390696?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1878278299536390696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1878278299536390696&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1878278299536390696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1878278299536390696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-sons-baby-shower-is-next-saturday.html' title='Oh baby!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S1Yfqo0yLbI/AAAAAAAAAdk/y8fa2fn7khk/s72-c/baby1-main_Full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6332002055876223693</id><published>2010-01-10T16:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T16:45:07.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Best Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S0pKXjyqbeI/AAAAAAAAAdU/8TXgkbKA1qQ/s1600-h/friend1231203588.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S0pKXjyqbeI/AAAAAAAAAdU/8TXgkbKA1qQ/s320/friend1231203588.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425230469726367202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned a lot of things about a lot of people, including myself, over the past year.  True colors have been shown and relationships have been severed.  My life is very different than it was January 10, 2009.  I'm not the same person.  I'm still a work in progress but I definitely don't see things the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is one thing that I can say has always been steadfast and true and that is my relationship with my best friend.  She has never faltered.  I love her like we were carried inside the same womb.  My friend has always been there for me and I love her dearly.  She is the person I call when I need a shoulder to lean on or a tissue to wipe my tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when my husband and I were both laid off from our jobs.  We struggled to make ends meet and keep a roof over our heads.  There was no money for hanging out or the extras.  My best friend bought me a coat when winter rolled around.  That is something that I will never forget.  It may not seem like much, but it meant the world to me.  She didn't make a big deal about it.  She knew what I needed and showed up with it one day.  It brings tears to my eyes every time I think of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I found out that my son was going to be a father, she is the first person I called.  She has a way of making me feel better about things.  She listens.  I needed someone to talk to and she was there as usual.  It didn't matter that it was really early in the morning and she got home late from work.  I felt better about the situation after I hung up that phone.  I knew that I needed to take a step back before responding.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I would do without her.  So many people in my life have turned out not to be what I wanted or needed them to be this year.  It's nice to have that constant, that one person you know will have your back no matter what.  Every time I realized fake, I called the real.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has read almost everything i've ever written and has always asked me when I was going to get my sh*t together and start trying to get published.  When I finally did and decided to start a book club of people whose opinions I trust, she was the first person I called.  All she said was, "It's about damned time."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always keeps it real with me.  That is what I love most about her.  It's what I need in my life.  I've been told i'm too real, so real that people don't want to ask my opinion.  I don't understand that at all.  Why ask if you don't want to know the truth?  I love that my friend is so honest.  I love her even more for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've laughed and cried together and have always been there for each other.  She's the only person in this world who knows everything about me.  I trust her with my life.  I'd take a bullet for her.  I remember we were shopping one day and a couple females were getting out of hand with me.  They thought I was alone.  It was an odd situation.  I don't like to fight, but I will.  I remember seeing my friend out of the corner of my eye.  She was watching and putting on her leather gloves.  That's so symbolic of her role in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marilyn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't tell her enough how much I love her and how much she means to me.  She won't even see this.  She's not really one for computers.  It's okay.  I was just thinking and needed to make this known.  I recently found out that someone I thought I could trust was not who I thought they were.  It shook me to my core.  Of course I called my friend, Marilyn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I sat down and thought of all the people I had to let go in my heart this year.  That lead me to think of the one person I know will always be there.  My best friend...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6332002055876223693?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6332002055876223693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6332002055876223693&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6332002055876223693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6332002055876223693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-best-friend.html' title='My Best Friend'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S0pKXjyqbeI/AAAAAAAAAdU/8TXgkbKA1qQ/s72-c/friend1231203588.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3778557237169960274</id><published>2010-01-03T22:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T22:45:45.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's all good</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S0FiXLM75BI/AAAAAAAAAdM/d87lTv0_J_k/s1600-h/phrases_wall_art_Its_All_Good.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S0FiXLM75BI/AAAAAAAAAdM/d87lTv0_J_k/s320/phrases_wall_art_Its_All_Good.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422723576614347794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's 2010.  Last year was very interesting for me.  I tried to get to know myself a little better and get rid of some of the negativity in and around me.  I wasn't always successful but I do think i'm better off at the start of this year than I was at the start of 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've taken some time to sit back and observe a lot of the people in my life.  I've listened closer to some of the things they said and paid more attention to the things they did.  I know that I have been blessed with a lot of love, but I have also detected a lot of fake that I didn't realize was there before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were times when I needed people and those who I expected to be there were not.  I was surprised but moved on and handled my business.  A few new faces popped up in times of need and some that have always been solid remained in place.  Surprises all around.  Now I know who I can count on at this point in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few relationships have splintered and others have been strengthened.  I reached out a little more than I usually do because I realized you can't do it all alone.  It felt good at times and at times there was a little regret.  I'm still glad I let go a little bit.  It put a lot of things in perspective.  There are people who have been in my life who probably won't hear from me again.  I see what they're about and it's not what I want in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are also those who will see and hear from me more.  In the past I closed myself off when I felt disappointment.  I've realized that life is all about the lessons you learn and how you apply them.  I'm ready to be more open with who I am and take the risk of not always getting the result I want.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no such thing as a perfect life.  We just have to live and let live.  I'm trying really hard to throw a lot of my judgments away and see folks for who they are and not what I would like them to be.  My actions and reactions will not be the same as someone else's.  I can't expect people to be like me.  I'm not always right anyway.  I also have to learn not to take things so personally.  Sometimes it just is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a really good look at life and myself when I found out I was going to be a grandmother.  My son is 19 years old. Of course I would have love it if he waited until he graduated and had a career before becoming a father but that's not the way things worked out.  Finding out he was going to be a father made me take a step back before reacting.  I learned a powerful lesson that I will keep with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very excited now.  Every time I see a baby my heart turns to mush.  I think of how it will be to hear the crying or pitter patter of little feet.  I know that things are going to be alright.  A child is a blessing just like a new year.  I am blessed to see 2010.  I have learned lessons and feel optimistic about life, especially the new life that will be here very soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3778557237169960274?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3778557237169960274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3778557237169960274&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3778557237169960274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3778557237169960274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-all-good.html' title='It&apos;s all good'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/S0FiXLM75BI/AAAAAAAAAdM/d87lTv0_J_k/s72-c/phrases_wall_art_Its_All_Good.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7153211053747274457</id><published>2009-12-12T19:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T19:52:09.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyQv5UocnLI/AAAAAAAAAdE/OXrIl5Xv5U8/s1600-h/blogging.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyQv5UocnLI/AAAAAAAAAdE/OXrIl5Xv5U8/s320/blogging.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414505313843584178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to be a grandmother in February.  I was in a bookstore and came across a book mark that said some of the things I would love to tell my grandchild:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To My Grandchild &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma's Pearls of Wisdom&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve traveled paths you’ve yet to walk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learned lessons old and new&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now this wisdom of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m blessed to share with you&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let kindness spread like sunshine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embrace those who are sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Respect their dignity, give them joy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And leave them feeling glad&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgive those who might hurt you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And though you have your pride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen closely to their viewpoint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try to see the other side&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walk softly when you’re angry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try not to take offense&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Invoke your sense of humor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughter’s power is immense!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Express what you are feeling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your beliefs you should uphold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t shy away from what is right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be courageous and be bold&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep hope right in your pocket&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will guide you day by day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take it out when it is needed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it’s near, you’ll find a way&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember friends and family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of which you are a precious part&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love deeply and love truly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give freely from your heart&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is far from perfect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s conflict and there’s strife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you still can make a difference&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By how you live your life&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I’m very blessed to know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wonders you will do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you are my grandchild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I believe in you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I CANNOT WAIT TO MEET MY GRANDBABY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7153211053747274457?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7153211053747274457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7153211053747274457&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7153211053747274457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7153211053747274457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-going-to-be-grandmother-in-february.html' title='Grandma Time'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyQv5UocnLI/AAAAAAAAAdE/OXrIl5Xv5U8/s72-c/blogging.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4699185122858626232</id><published>2009-12-11T20:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T21:22:58.434-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyL-DbpE3fI/AAAAAAAAAcs/wHf1NI4FKso/s1600-h/blogging.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyL-DbpE3fI/AAAAAAAAAcs/wHf1NI4FKso/s320/blogging.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414169036965862898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to find that love again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when I first started blogging.  It was so much fun for me.  Everything I heard and saw was fodder for a possible post.  I couldn't wait to get to my computer at work in the morning so I could get it started.  I blogged every day and never had a problem coming up with topics.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where has that love gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are so different now.  I barely think about posting and when I do I have no idea what to post about.  I'm disappointed.  Is it writers block?  Lost of interest?  I check out some of my favorite blogs and find myself wishing I could come up with things to talk about like others do.  I know i'm capable.  What the hell is going on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I lost that loving feeling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like i've deserted something that I worked so hard to get going.  It's almost like losing a part of me.  I don't like the feeling but I also don't know what to do about it.  The blog is called "Tammy's Thoughts."  What the hell am I thinking?  Am I thinking at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring back that loving feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I blamed it on my newfound Facebook obsession.  I was spending more time there than anywhere else.  I started updating status first thing in the morning and not going to my blog.  I figured that was it.  I also found another fun sight that my co-workers laugh about.  I figured that was why I hadn't been blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Searching....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about it and realized that I haven't been editing my book the way I should either.  That is unacceptable.  I'm slacking and that's not good.  Maybe I just need a break........I can't take a break from editing.  I have to get my book done.  There's always been some sort of connection between my book and my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back.  I'm a writer and it's what I do.  There are times when I think that i'm getting so close to having my book done that it's making me nervous.  It's what i've wanted all my life but i'm not so sure that i'm ready.  This is what I always to do myself.  I've been trying to work on it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like a confident woman with no confidence.  It's crazy.  As soon as I learn to stop being so cautious things will be great.  I second guess way too much and I have absolutely no idea why.  I guess i've gone through some things in my life that have taught me to expect disappointment.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started down a road of soul searching that really helped me learn a lot about myself.  Somewhere along the way I got comfortable and stopped looking.  I'm getting it back on track and i'm sure i'll be blogging on a constant basis real soon.  I miss it.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyL-YhMV6jI/AAAAAAAAAc0/ol7eL7N7ELs/s1600-h/I_m_tired_by_Tigru.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyL-YhMV6jI/AAAAAAAAAc0/ol7eL7N7ELs/s320/I_m_tired_by_Tigru.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414169399233210930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4699185122858626232?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4699185122858626232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4699185122858626232&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4699185122858626232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4699185122858626232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-have-to-find-that-love-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SyL-DbpE3fI/AAAAAAAAAcs/wHf1NI4FKso/s72-c/blogging.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-8881326421660272627</id><published>2009-11-23T14:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T15:02:29.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SwrmbfZ-dHI/AAAAAAAAAcc/wgNDc9UGgk0/s1600/dad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SwrmbfZ-dHI/AAAAAAAAAcc/wgNDc9UGgk0/s320/dad.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407387662573007986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's my father's birthday.  I've been thinking about him a lot lately.  He'll be a big part of my life no matter what.  It really does not matter that he is not here with me physically.  I miss him so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I broke down a couple days ago because I was wishing my daddy was here.  There are so many things going on that I wish he was able to be a part of.  He would be the best great grandfather ever.  That's the main thing that bothers me.  My son will be a father soon and I wish my dad was here to meet his great grandchild.  He would love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son never really got the chance to get to know his grandfather.  My father died 11years ago and my son is 18.  They would have been so close.  I know it.  It really saddens me to know they will never have a relationship.  They look and act so much alike.  My son even swallows like my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my father with all my heart and miss him even more.  I just hope i'm living a life that makes him smile.  I know he's watching my every move.  He wouldn't be my daddy if he didn't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Swrp6_iydJI/AAAAAAAAAck/Yhn23U5MQHg/s1600/daddy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Swrp6_iydJI/AAAAAAAAAck/Yhn23U5MQHg/s320/daddy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407391502310732946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-8881326421660272627?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/8881326421660272627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=8881326421660272627&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8881326421660272627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8881326421660272627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/11/todays-my-fathers-birthday.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SwrmbfZ-dHI/AAAAAAAAAcc/wgNDc9UGgk0/s72-c/dad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6010628547353103814</id><published>2009-11-15T16:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T16:57:55.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Tired</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SwB5Xoz-BcI/AAAAAAAAAcM/GboZI5fED-w/s1600-h/I_m_tired_by_Tigru.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SwB5Xoz-BcI/AAAAAAAAAcM/GboZI5fED-w/s320/I_m_tired_by_Tigru.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404452999843939778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;Tired of letting other people's insecurities affect my disposition&lt;br /&gt;Tired of scared little boys wrapped up in big men's bodies&lt;br /&gt;Why are you so angry?&lt;br /&gt;Why do you refuse to look at yourself?&lt;br /&gt;Do you even know who you really are?&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;Tired of judgmental people who cannot judge themselves &lt;br /&gt;Tired of prying eyes and nosy bitches&lt;br /&gt;Get your own shit&lt;br /&gt;Why you ridin' mine?&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry about what i'm doing or what's going on in my life&lt;br /&gt;Is yours in order?&lt;br /&gt;Are you that one perfect person God decided to create?&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;Tired of worrying about how this and that is going to work out&lt;br /&gt;Tired of feeling like I just can't be&lt;br /&gt;It's no ones fault but mine&lt;br /&gt;For some reason I can't see that half full glass&lt;br /&gt;No matter how hard I try&lt;br /&gt;And it's bringing me down, even when things are going good&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;Tired of the things I won't admit to myself&lt;br /&gt;Tired of the people I know I don't need in my life&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I just let them go and move on?&lt;br /&gt;When I know...&lt;br /&gt;I know they're no good for me&lt;br /&gt;Their negative energy is making my shoulders feel heavy&lt;br /&gt;And changing my posture&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;Tired of getting up early in the morning&lt;br /&gt;Tired of getting dressed to go to a place I can't stand&lt;br /&gt;To be around people who make me want to scream&lt;br /&gt;And spend time doing things that don't matter to me at all&lt;br /&gt;It's such a waste&lt;br /&gt;But them bills have got to be paid&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;Tired of people who walk around like their shit don't stink&lt;br /&gt;Tired of people who think the rules do not apply to them&lt;br /&gt;Who do you think you are?&lt;br /&gt;Get your nose out the air&lt;br /&gt;And find a clue&lt;br /&gt;The world and all it's inhabitants do not revolve around you&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;Tired of angry people&lt;br /&gt;Tired of unnecessarily loud voices&lt;br /&gt;Why are you yelling?&lt;br /&gt;Do you know how ignorant you look and sound right now?&lt;br /&gt;It's laughable&lt;br /&gt;You're joking right?&lt;br /&gt;No one can really act this way&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like Florida Evans&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes I just want to be left alone&lt;br /&gt;To my own devices&lt;br /&gt;I'm not complaining&lt;br /&gt;I have a good life&lt;br /&gt;Filled with the love of good people&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's just one of those days&lt;br /&gt;Those venting days&lt;br /&gt;Those f you days&lt;br /&gt;Those get away from me days&lt;br /&gt;One of those days that just make me want to say&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;There's so much more I could say&lt;br /&gt;But&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6010628547353103814?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6010628547353103814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6010628547353103814&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6010628547353103814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6010628547353103814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-tired.html' title='I&apos;m Tired'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SwB5Xoz-BcI/AAAAAAAAAcM/GboZI5fED-w/s72-c/I_m_tired_by_Tigru.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4420321183736462341</id><published>2009-11-09T08:50:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T10:00:10.081-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yankees and Daddy...</title><content type='html'>My Yankees are World Seris champs!  I could not be happier.  Watching them play brought back so many memories.  I really miss my daddy.  I am a sports fanatic because of him.  We always went to Yankee games together.  Daddy made sure we always had great seats.  When the Yankees won the World Seris he was the first person I thought about.  I know he's up there smiling from ear to ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SvgsQhZvwFI/AAAAAAAAAbc/WIHntiwfi1M/s1600-h/2009_World_Series_6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SvgsQhZvwFI/AAAAAAAAAbc/WIHntiwfi1M/s320/2009_World_Series_6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402116415386796114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SvgssGE74KI/AAAAAAAAAbs/UJkqfqmhlIg/s1600-h/Yankees27.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 284px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SvgssGE74KI/AAAAAAAAAbs/UJkqfqmhlIg/s320/Yankees27.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402116889088090274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how my dad would have felt about the current Yankee lineup, Joe Torre leaving, A-Rod becoming a part of the team, and the new stadium.  It would be great if I could talk to him about these things.  Sometimes I smile when I watch Yankee games and remember he times my daddy and I had at the stadium.  There are also times when I feel like crying because he's not here to enjoy them with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my dadddy so much.  I've always been a daddy's girl.  He had his issues and wasn't always there like he should have been, but I never held that against him.  He was my daddy and that was good enough for me.  The time we had together was always filled with quality.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There aren't many people that I would feel comfortable bearing my soul too.  My father and I talked about sports, music, current events, politics, and anything else you can think of.  He was the person I told about my hopes and dreams.  He was the one who helped me sort out my problems.  He was my daddy and I could tell him anything.  He never judged me and always tried to help me.  He always say, "Don't take no wooden nickels Boogaloo."  I can't take crap from people.  My daddy's memory won't allow it.  Damn I miss him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that I leave the same impression on my children that my father left with me.  He had a lot of influence on the person that I am.  I know that I get my love of sports and music from him.  He was also a writer.  He didn't aspire to write books like I do, but he did write poems and short stories.  I didn't really learn how much he loved to write until after he passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband, sister, brother-in-law, and I went to clean my dad's apartment and I found a bunch of photo albums.  They were filled with poems, short stories and photos.  He'd find a picture in a magazine or newspaper and write about it.  He was also a photographer.  His creativity flows through my veins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SvguV3Q95pI/AAAAAAAAAb8/MXnDnXofFI8/s1600-h/3735-TN.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 140px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SvguV3Q95pI/AAAAAAAAAb8/MXnDnXofFI8/s320/3735-TN.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402118706178156178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish my daddy was here.  I know we would have gone to the ticker tape parade and had a ball.  There's no way in the world he would have missed that.  I watch baseball with my son and smile.  He was very young when my dad passed away and reminds me so much of him.  He even swallows like him!  The first time my mother saw him in his little league uniform she said he looked like my daddy did when he played softball.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smile when i'm watching baseball games with my son because it reminds me of the times I spent with his grandfather.  I wish he could have gotten to know him.  He will learn about him through the stories we tell him but it's not the same.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daddy's birthday is coming up.  That's also the day I learned of his death.  It's not as rough as it use to be.  I've learned to cherish the memories I have of him.  I see him smiling or dancing to his favorite Jodeci song.  I remember the day my husband and I picked him up and we listened to their first album all the way home.  He loved it!  I always laugh when I hear songs from that album.  He would not let us play anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of all the picture he would take whenever he visited.  After a while we were all tired of him making us pose in front of everything or snapping picutures when we weren't looking.  It's a good thing he didn't listen to our complaining.  We have so many pictures of him and us now.  I'm so glad he carried his camera with him all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, i've learned to cherish the memories.  Sometimes I get sad around this time.  The Yankees winning the series has actually made it a liitle easier because I know my daddy is looking down on me smiling.  He loved the Yankees and when his birthday rolls around i'll remember the times we shared going to those games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Svgs6TjPOlI/AAAAAAAAAb0/4JoAF82kHGw/s1600-h/heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Svgs6TjPOlI/AAAAAAAAAb0/4JoAF82kHGw/s320/heart.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402117133223017042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you daddy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4420321183736462341?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4420321183736462341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4420321183736462341&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4420321183736462341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4420321183736462341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/11/yankees-and-daddy.html' title='Yankees and Daddy...'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SvgsQhZvwFI/AAAAAAAAAbc/WIHntiwfi1M/s72-c/2009_World_Series_6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3278577477671872364</id><published>2009-10-26T15:22:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T16:06:25.337-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I just wanna be successful</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SuX6Qc4waLI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RjOzSvihGwk/s1600-h/livepreview.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SuX6Qc4waLI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RjOzSvihGwk/s320/livepreview.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396994889012504754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I held my crystal ball in my hand.  I looked inside and it lit up.  I took that as a sign that my future is bright.  I can see it.  I've finally learned the power of positive thinking.  No more blocking my blessings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be successful.  That doesn't mean I want to be rich.  Money's nice but it's not the end all be all.  I just want to be able to make my living selling books and be able to live comfortable.  That's not a lot to ask.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My success will not come from me sitting in a cubicle every day.  It's just not what I want.  Happiness is a big part of success and my job definitely doesn't make me happy.  I'm sure i'd be ecstatic if I could stay home and write and be the suffering artist.  That's not realistic for me.  I would love to go out on that limb and quit for my art.  I also like having my bills paid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout my journey I have learned that patience is a virtue.  Good things come to those who wait as long as they put in the work necessary.  I'll admit I haven't always been as diligent as I should have been.  I've been a procrastinator for a long time.  I do my best work under pressure but this is not the time for that.  I need to have my stuff together in a timely manner.  I don't want to be throwing my book together at the last minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've attempted to write novels before but things just didn't work out.  I now realize that I wasn't ready for the process.  It wasn't the time.  The time is now.  I'm very happy with what I have done.  I wasn't always ready to share, but now I am.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Success will come when I can get up each day and smile because I am happy with what my day will entail.  I'm so far from that right now.  I don't like the way I feel when I get up in the morning during the week.  The thought of going to work clouds my thoughts.  I have let a job bring my spirit down.  Realizing it's only a means to an end has slightly lightened the load I felt on my shoulders from 7:30 to 3:30 every week day.  This is not it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately it took me a long time to get to that place.  I stayed on my job because I have some of the best benefits in the state.  That's very important.  I have a family and my benefits have taken very good care of us all.  Family comes first.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I definitely feel that I have been a success as a parent.  Things have not always been perfect.  I didn't get the rule book when either one of my children were born.  I look at them and smile all the time.  My daughter is so strong and my son has such a gentle spirit.  She's a career woman and he's going to be a father.  They will both be successful in the roles they have chosen.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first heard I was going to be a grandmother I wasn't sure how to react.  My son is 18 years old and a sophomore in college.  He's the same age his father was when our daughter was born.  It's not what I wanted for him.  I had to sit back and think before I reacted to the situation.  He has a lot of plans for his life and my first thought was how drastically a child was going to change things.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will always be there for my children.  I wasn't afforded the benefit of the doubt when I got pregnant.  No one sat back and took a moment before they reacted.  My son's a good guy.  His child will be very lucky.  He will be a great father and I will support him.  He has a job and will continue his college career.  It won't be easy, but it will be okay.  We both know that now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be successful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3278577477671872364?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3278577477671872364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3278577477671872364&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3278577477671872364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3278577477671872364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-just-wanna-be-successful.html' title='I just wanna be successful'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SuX6Qc4waLI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RjOzSvihGwk/s72-c/livepreview.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-211290489149363467</id><published>2009-10-09T16:48:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T17:10:22.304-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Thinking....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Ss-mdebuNjI/AAAAAAAAAa8/qM70CL-chGE/s1600-h/A_woman_thinking.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Ss-mdebuNjI/AAAAAAAAAa8/qM70CL-chGE/s320/A_woman_thinking.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390710304301528626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are still rolling.  I'm getting the first chapter of my book ready to ship to the publisher I met.  I'm excited.  It may take a while for her to read it but progress is progress.  I didn't think i'd be doing anything like this so soon.  I'm not even done editing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has all made me very happy.  I have times when I get into my head a little too much and all I can do is think, think, think.  I'm doing what I can to change it.  When you've been doing something your whole life you can't just let it go.  I'm definitely a thinker.  I try to see situations from all angles.  That could be a good thing but unfortunately it's hard for me to stop myself sometimes.  I also spend too much time on the negative angle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a worrier too.  That's not a good thing.  I'm wondering how i'm going to deal with the publishing process.  I probably won't have any fingernails left.  I can see myself sitting, and thinking, and worrying.  There's so much that goes into it all.  I have to get myself to a place where I can deal with the waiting.  Oh yeah, i'm also a bit impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My spirits have definitely been lifted since I went to that publishing party.  I won't allow myself to find anything to get too in depth about.  My mood is much lighter.  My book has been a part of my life for almost two years.  It has actually helped me through some things.  When I was sad, mad, happy, sad, or whatever, I would grab my pen and pad.  I put my heart and soul into my book and I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really looking forward to this new phase of life.  My goal is to make a living as a writer.  I know that it is what I am.  It would just be nice to make some money with this talent i've been given.  I'm tired of the whole job thing.  I need to have a career, and the one of my choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note.................How awesome is it that President Obama has received the Nobel Peace Prize?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-211290489149363467?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/211290489149363467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=211290489149363467&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/211290489149363467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/211290489149363467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/10/things-are-still-rolling.html' title='I&apos;m Thinking....'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Ss-mdebuNjI/AAAAAAAAAa8/qM70CL-chGE/s72-c/A_woman_thinking.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-58901484359705666</id><published>2009-10-06T12:30:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T13:04:06.630-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sst1Ug_V-GI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Xsbci4s9NvY/s1600-h/winding_road.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sst1Ug_V-GI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Xsbci4s9NvY/s320/winding_road.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389530374392379490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm making progress.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I went to the publishing party Saturday.  It wasn't what I thought it would be but it was a good experience.  I made a contact who just started a new publishing company.  We exchanged info and I feel like it could be great.  No matter what happens, I feel like I have started down the road to becoming an author.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt wonderful when I left.  It was an awesome experience being in a room full of creative people.  One brother showed the beginnings of a documentary he is making on the word nigger.  It was awesome.  There were also poetry and chapter readings.  It felt like home.  My spirit was moved and I knew the creative juices would be flowing through me at a faster pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The publisher I met asked me to send her a few pages of my book.  I also decided to work on an abstract.  All sorts of thoughts ran through my head.  I could barely contain the excitement.  The thought of beginning another stage of my creative life thrilled me ot no end.  I had to give myself a day to reign it all in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home from work yesterday I started to think about all that I needed to do.  I realized that I had to sit down and come up with a title.  I made a list a while ago but nothing I came up with really moved me.  Then, out of nowhere, I decided to use one of the titles on the list and add a bit to it.  I sketched what I wanted on a piece of paper and showed it to my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband didn't seem to enthused about my wonderful drawing but he thought the title was good.  The real progress came when I showed my daughter.  She was in her room on her computer and when I told her of the idea I had for the cover she went to work.  Before we knew it we had a few great designs.  We called my husband and son into the room and the whole family was excited.  It was a really nice moment. My book cover will always be extra special to me because my daughter is the one who designed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not done editing but I really feel like i'm making so much progress.  I'm sure there will be bumps, twists, and turns in the road but i'm ready.  Going to that party and putting myself out there was a big step for me.  Coming up with the title and book cover was another step.  I have confidence and feel so filled with excitement.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday will be my next book club meeting.  I'm looking forward to it.  I can't wait to share everything with the people who are helping me realized my dream.  It's a wonderful thing.  I feel so blessed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-58901484359705666?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/58901484359705666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=58901484359705666&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/58901484359705666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/58901484359705666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-making-progress.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sst1Ug_V-GI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Xsbci4s9NvY/s72-c/winding_road.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3531907748858750022</id><published>2009-09-30T12:27:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T12:50:37.956-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SsOMADRoCSI/AAAAAAAAAao/1xq_JjLr6Vc/s1600-h/400_F_3123453_bMjbTzsOPq1CAGWOuHgzMsk80FGHIu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SsOMADRoCSI/AAAAAAAAAao/1xq_JjLr6Vc/s320/400_F_3123453_bMjbTzsOPq1CAGWOuHgzMsk80FGHIu.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387303511772367138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the members of my book club invited me to an event Saturday and I am extremely nervous.  Her girlfriend is starting a publishing company and she's having a publishing party.  It sounds like something I need to do and I know I should.  I'm just not very good at networking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I have to get over my issue if I want to get my book sold.  This is what I wanted.  I'm scared but i'll be okay.  I'm not that good at selling myself but I believe in my novel.  If it could speak for itself I know it would but that's not possible.  I have to do the talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a shy person.  I work on it daily.  Most people have no idea.  It's not that easy for me to put myself out there.  I think that's part of the reason I really wanted to self publish.  Although it's a tough process I think it was my form of taking the easy way out.  All of the work would be on me and I wouldn't have to do a lot of networking to get it done.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've practiced the things I would say when I went to small book stores and asked them to sell my book.  I was ready for that, or at least I would have been by the time the book was done.  I'm glad my friend has extended this invitation to me.  It forces me to challenge myself.  I really need to do that more often.  I'm very confident when doing things I like.  It's the things that make me question myself that are the problem.  I don't always go for the gusto in those situations.  That has got to change if I want to be a successful author.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things will work out one way or another.  It's up to me to decide what the outcome of my journey to being published will be.  I can either stay in the box I put myself in and tip toe through the process or jump out of that box and dance my way to success.  I'm a music lover. Dancing is something I love to do.  I choose the dance.  It's time for me to get to moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3531907748858750022?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3531907748858750022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3531907748858750022&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3531907748858750022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3531907748858750022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-of-members-of-my-book-club-invited.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SsOMADRoCSI/AAAAAAAAAao/1xq_JjLr6Vc/s72-c/400_F_3123453_bMjbTzsOPq1CAGWOuHgzMsk80FGHIu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1543510447753354616</id><published>2009-09-19T11:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T12:07:13.149-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No title....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SrUBppIgtKI/AAAAAAAAAaY/xZ0KkcWcqB8/s1600-h/CHUNKY8X8B.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SrUBppIgtKI/AAAAAAAAAaY/xZ0KkcWcqB8/s320/CHUNKY8X8B.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383210744519111842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote a book that I have read three times for editing purposes.  I have not become bored or tired of going through it. I love what I have written.  The storyline is good, the characters are solid, and I really do think it's worth reading.  So, why  don't I have a title?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first realized what I wanted to write and how things would be structured, I had the perfect title.  It fit perfectly and I never gave it a second thought.  There was no doubt in my mind.  Throughout the entire writing process I never worried about coming up with a name for my work.  I even knew what the cover would look like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished writing and it felt great, it still does.  One day I decided to google the title I chose and found out that it is very popular.  I was so disappointed.  That was a while ago.  The problem is I feel stuck.  I think my heart was so set on that title that my mind is blocked.  No matter how hard I try I can't come up with anything.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of my ideas seem to be good enough and I keep going back to the original title.  I made a list of potentials but nothing jumps out at me.  I want a title that will make people want to pick my book up off the shelves.  A friend of mine is a photographer and he's ready to help me come up with the cover art.  I just have to get it together.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want the title of my book to mean something.  It has to give you an idea of what you're about to read.  This is not a simple decision.  The problem is, my title block is holding me up.  I have to copyright and register my book, get my own ISSN number, and so on but I can't do these things until I know what the hell the title is.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This process is wonderful and aggravating at the same time.  I loved writing the book and editing has not been bad at all.  It's all the other stuff.  I'm ready to do the work but at times I feel like I don't know where to begin.  It is my dream to publish on my own but I know it would probably be a lot easier if I actually hooked up with an established publisher.  I know that's easier said than done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One part of me wants to start off like Master P and sell books out of my trunk.  The other part thinks it would be wonderful if someone thought enough of my work to help me introduce it to the world.  I've come up with some fundraising ideas just in case.  My book club thought their only job was to read the book and give me feedback.  Boy do I have news for them.  They're in for the long haul.  The good news is I know they won't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel blessed to have these kinds of dilemmas.  There are folks who have no idea what they want to do.  I have a vision for my future and I know that it will work out somehow.  I'm definitely ready to do the work.  I have no choice.  It is my destiny.  Now all I have to do is come up with a title.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1543510447753354616?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1543510447753354616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1543510447753354616&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1543510447753354616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1543510447753354616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-title.html' title='No title....'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SrUBppIgtKI/AAAAAAAAAaY/xZ0KkcWcqB8/s72-c/CHUNKY8X8B.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6314729820808028139</id><published>2009-09-16T12:20:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T13:02:31.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SrEQ9LyP1DI/AAAAAAAAAaI/qMdkExYxZQM/s1600-h/patience.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SrEQ9LyP1DI/AAAAAAAAAaI/qMdkExYxZQM/s320/patience.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382101673006060594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm working on my patience.  I really am. The amount of praying i've done on this issue is crazy. I know I have a quick temper and my tolerance for bullshit is very low.  In my opinion the world would be a much better place if people just kept it a little more real.  Be who you are.  Who could it hurt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I went upstate to visit friends and we had an awesome time.  I was able to leave all the crap behind and let my hair down.  It was just what I needed.  Lately i've become so sick of my job that I have to fight to keep it from affecting other areas of my life.  I do my best to leave all the mess behind when I leave at 3:30 every weekday but it's becoming harder and harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were there from Thursday to Sunday and I felt great when I got home.  I had Monday off and I was still feeling good.  Monday night rolled around and I felt myself becoming depressed.  Tuesday morning rolled around and I could barely get my head up off the pillow.  I said a prayer, got it together, and made my way out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was determined not to let anything get to me and it was working.  I let a smile be my umbrella and motored through the work day.  The hour of 3:30 p.m. rolled around before I knew it and I left as fast as I could.  I went home, spent some time with my son and cleared my head.  I went to bed with a smile and woke up the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a great attitude when I got to work today.  "Mind over matter" was the motto for the day and it was working.  I start at 7:30 and I don't really see anyone until around 9:00.  I was pissed off by ten.  The level of crap they come up with is so ridiculous that I can't put it into words.  I won't even go into what the problem of the day was.  It's just not worth being repeated by an adult.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to take it back to patience.  The head of my department called the staff in one by one to talk about some real bullshit.  I already said how low my tolerance is so imagine how I was feeling.  I smiled on the outside but I was fuming!  I told him how I felt and left when I couldn't take it anymore.  A co-worker and I vented, I emailed a friend who always seems to have the words that calm me down, and kept it moving.  Her response was something I already knew but I guess I needed to hear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's just a decoy, that's to add insult to injury…you are already overwhelmed about personal stuff so the enemy knows that the job is a sore thumb so while he already has your attention he might as well continue to knock a GREAT WOMAN DOWN FOR THE COUNT….one, two, three…..and so on and so forth until you do explode….you already know what you will and won't do, so why should you even dwell on stupid stuff????  Stupid is as stupid does…let stuff roll off your back, why make it personal…like you really care??????  Just simply realize there's always another way to do what I want to do and do it w/a smile…..oh slap happy well…that's what they want now my question and what are you going to do?????  Keep it moving, don't give in to the drama you are so much better than that, if they can't piss you off one way they come back w/another way…please they can't find anything else to pick at so why not that…..just shake your head, they don't have nothing better to do….BLOCK AND FOCUS…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6314729820808028139?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6314729820808028139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6314729820808028139&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6314729820808028139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6314729820808028139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-working-on-my-patience.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SrEQ9LyP1DI/AAAAAAAAAaI/qMdkExYxZQM/s72-c/patience.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-8144855804161264124</id><published>2009-09-10T10:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:17:53.471-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SqkYmRBs9EI/AAAAAAAAAaA/zH5_8slm3wE/s1600-h/new-york-county-map.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SqkYmRBs9EI/AAAAAAAAAaA/zH5_8slm3wE/s320/new-york-county-map.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379858275555406914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I are going to upstate New York to visit friends today.  We'll be back Sunday.  I really need this getaway. We always have fun with the friends we're going to visit.  Their home is always full of friends, family, and laughter.  I really need that right now.  I need a break.  My job is really starting to get to me.  I'm trying to to let that happen but it's not easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to go to a place that you feel is bringing your spirit down.  Like I said in my previous post, the job itself is fine.  I have made a nice home for myself.  My cubicle is very comfortable.  I have pictures of my family surrounding me that I look at when I need to relax and get my head together.  The problem is i've become sort of a hermit.  I hardly ever leave my space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a fan of gossip and constant gossip and petty behavior.  It's rough being around people I don't like for eight hours of my day.  My favorite time of the day is the first hour.  I'm the first one in and no one else is there.  It gives me time to prepare for the day ahead.  I don't know what I would do if I didn't have that bit of time to myself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I don't want to get into another rant about my job.  I'm looking forward to getting away for a little while.  I always return with a new attitude.  I'm going to try and keep it this time.  I let my temper get the best of me and almost lost my job messing around with these fools.  I'm definitely not going to let that happen.  I don't like my job but the bills have to be paid.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My book is coming along and i've been thinking about trying out some freelance writing.  I might as well go for it.  Things are moving in my life and I really do believe that I won't be here much longer.  I just have to stop dwelling on the negative and stay in a positive frame of mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll have a big smile on my face when I walk out of here at 12:30.  These days off and time away from everything is going to be a great thing for me and it's coming at the perfect time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-8144855804161264124?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/8144855804161264124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=8144855804161264124&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8144855804161264124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8144855804161264124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-husband-and-i-are-going-to-upstate.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SqkYmRBs9EI/AAAAAAAAAaA/zH5_8slm3wE/s72-c/new-york-county-map.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7218960506507540682</id><published>2009-09-03T15:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T15:19:50.683-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SqAWjWB2gxI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n6fsN3yF9Kk/s1600-h/i_hate_my_job.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SqAWjWB2gxI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n6fsN3yF9Kk/s320/i_hate_my_job.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377322751544951570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really starting to hate my job.  I've prayed on it constantly and have to ask for strength to make it through the day.  I start looking forward to Friday every Sunday night.  Migraines have been a constant problem and I know it's because of my occupation.  I can't stand it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's actually not the job.  I can do what I do with my eyes closed.  The atmosphere is not a good one and the level of petty behavior disgusts me.  It's hard for me to believe that grown people act this way.  Gossip, gossip, gossip....blah, blah, blah.  I can't take it.  At this point I don't socialize very much at all.  I spend most of my day chillin' at my cubicle glancing at the clock from time to time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hulu has become my friend.  I have two monitors so I work on one and watch what I want on the other.  It really helps to pass the time.  I'm 41 years old and I really do not have to time to stand around and talk about people or complain.  I don't like my job but I also know that talking about how much I don't like it isn't going to solve anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm working on getting my book out and praying that it will do well.  I know it's good.  I love it.  To be able to make my living as a writer would be so amazing, even if I had to work a part-time job to supplement my income.  What i'm doing right now just does not work for me at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's tough to leave a job with great benefits when you have bills and a family.  If it wasn't I would have been gone a long time ago.  Right now i'm just trying to survive and keep my head above water.  In my heart of hearts I know I will not be here forever.  I just have to keep my head up and make things happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't it be great if we could all make a living doing what makes us happy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7218960506507540682?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7218960506507540682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7218960506507540682&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7218960506507540682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7218960506507540682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-really-starting-to-hate-my-job.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SqAWjWB2gxI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n6fsN3yF9Kk/s72-c/i_hate_my_job.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2222001909723880156</id><published>2009-08-18T13:39:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T12:57:13.319-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SorqOVlCFrI/AAAAAAAAAZY/ivjHYrC37Qs/s1600-h/12085650B~Ain-t-I-a-woman-Posters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SorqOVlCFrI/AAAAAAAAAZY/ivjHYrC37Qs/s320/12085650B~Ain-t-I-a-woman-Posters.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371363037624276658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, i'm what our society calls a "plus size," woman.  I'm not sure where the plus begins.  Is it two plus three or five plus seven or six plus ten?  Who decides where the norm ends and the plus begins?  That is something that always puzzled me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been skinny.  Even though i'm five feet tall my frame is not small at all.  I started to develop before a lot of the girls my age.  It was kind of rough but I dealth with it.  Boys are not the most gentle creatures and they always had smart remarks.  I've never really been what you would call a delicate flower so I always had a comeback ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gained weight after my daughter was born.  She's 24 and i'm still losing my baby weight.  I was a young mother and thought I could eat anything I want while I was pregnant and it wouldn't matter.  Well, she weighed eight pounds and six ounces and I gained way more than that.  I could say I regret all that I ate but carrying my first child was such a beautiful experience that I don't regret anything I went through.  It was crazy to be a teenager and have the responsibility of bringing a life into the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a good place now but I have had my struggles.  There was when I would not wear white because I thought it made me look bigger.  I adopted the philosophy that darker colors would make me look smaller. I wouldn't wear purple either.  I may sound crazy but I always thought of Barney.  I've always had chubby cheeks that I cannot stand.  I do, however, love my dimples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was never teased about my weight.  I'm sure comments were made but no one has ever said anything to my face.  I don't stand for that kind of stuff and have never had a problem giving as good as I get. Also, contrary to popular demand, every man does not turn his back on a woman who has some extra weight on her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another myth I hate is the one that makes it look like all "plus size" women have low self-esteem and feel bad about themselves.  In my opinion, most women have body issues.  This is not something that is exclusive to one type of woman or another.  Some are able to accept themselves the way they are and others aren't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I came across the commercial for a show called "More to Love."  Boy did that disgust me.  This is a show about big women who spend their time crying and complaining about how hard life has been for them because of their weight.  They're crying because they want to fall in love and have a "normal" life.  After seeing the promo I went online and watched about five minutes of the show.  That was all I could stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Extra weight doesn't lead to misery.  We have to pay a little more for our clothes, but so what.  I know how to find stylish clothes and put an outfit together just like any other woman.  It is no longer the day of the moo moo.  I hate those damned things!  It's not hard to have some style.  Size does not matter in this instance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that really bothers me is when people say stupid things like, "You have a pretty face."  What the hell does that mean?  Is that suppose to be a compliment?  Just in case anyone thinks it is i'd like to inform them that it is not. If you're pretty you're pretty.  Saying something like that is basically saying your face is nice but the rest of you is messed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the song, "Beautiful," by Christina Aguilera.  I use to play it on my ipod every morning.  "I am beautiful no matter what they say."  If you look at television and in magazines you would think that all a plus size woman is good for is being some slim chicks sidekick, running after some man who doesn't want her (I hate the Parkers and always will), making fun of herself and how much she eats, or crying over how terrible she feels about her weight.  I've had enough of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one will dictate to me how i'm suppose to look or feel.  There's no way everyone is suppose to fit into the same mold.  Differences are what make life interesting.  I don't want to look like anyone else.  I like me.  If people loved themselves more they wouldn't spend time worrying about others.  I'm not "More to Love" i'm just me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2222001909723880156?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2222001909723880156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2222001909723880156&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2222001909723880156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2222001909723880156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-me.html' title='Just Me'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SorqOVlCFrI/AAAAAAAAAZY/ivjHYrC37Qs/s72-c/12085650B~Ain-t-I-a-woman-Posters.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-794007064034292301</id><published>2009-08-13T11:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T22:10:40.432-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing In The Rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SoQxHhExVtI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/5hPXux7U8Ig/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SoQxHhExVtI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/5hPXux7U8Ig/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369470660939699922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone emailed this quote to me and it really hit home.  It hasn’t been easy for me to throw caution to the wind.  I’ve lived my life being concerned about others opinions and most of all making sure that my family and I were secure.  Security is very important to me.  Tammy is not the one to risk losing a roof over her head or make her family struggle in any way.  On one hand that is a good thing but on another it has held me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The need for security has kept me on a job that I cannot stand.  I have excellent benefits that I really do not want to give up.  My union is great.  My son attended a great summer camp free of charge for four years and was able to work in the hospital where I am employed for the summer.  I love what my union provides.  We have some of the best benefits in the state.  Because I didn’t dance in the rain I’ve been working on a job I really do not like for 14 years.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not complaining.  I’ve lived a really nice life.  The thing is, as I look back I realize that I could have taken more chances and put myself out there.  My book would probably be on the shelves already.  I don’t like shoulda, woulda, couldas so I won’t go there.  The life I have lived is the life I lived.  I can’t go back.  What I can do is make sure I get wet a little more.  I’ve always loved the rain so why not take the opportunity to dance around in it?  I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and have learned a lot about myself.  I’ve also learned that you never have everything figured out.  Whenever you think you know it all you’re slipping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t always play it safe.  There will always be a storm.  It’s what life is about.  No one has a perfect existence.  There would be no way to learn if life was not full of mistakes.  I’m learning from the errors I made because I was scared of or trying to prevent the storm.  All I did was stress myself out with worry, which is the misuse of imagination.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want so much out of life.  At the age of 41 I finally realize that I have to take a leap of faith once in a while.  It's okay to start over if things don't work out.  My children are grown now.  They have lives of their own.  I feel that I have done my job in that area.  They are secure.  I feel like I can breathe the air of chance.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a writer's spirit.  I don't always express myself the way I should vocally, but put a pen in my hand or point me to a keyboard and it's on.  It's time for me to get over that.  I have a book to sell.  If I don't get my feet wet and dance in that rain there is no way i'll be able to achieve the success I desire.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've danced a time or two, but not as often as I would have liked.  When I saw that quote it immediately spoke to me.  How can I play it so safe so often?  I feel like waiting for the storm to pass has blocked many a blessing I could have received.  I'm sure they were there for the taking.  All I had to do was a little rain dance.  I have to trust myself more, have faith in myself more, and stop being so cautious and worried about failing.  Failures happen.  It's all about how you recover.  Nine times out of ten you'll be better for it and come out stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. "&lt;br /&gt;~ Cadet Maxim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-794007064034292301?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/794007064034292301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=794007064034292301&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/794007064034292301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/794007064034292301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/08/life-isnt-about-waiting-for-storm-to.html' title='Dancing In The Rain'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SoQxHhExVtI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/5hPXux7U8Ig/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1613251380136667782</id><published>2009-07-28T12:24:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T13:12:24.885-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Name is Tammy....and i love to shop!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8pBd7OQEI/AAAAAAAAAYo/Oxb1KPbixmI/s1600-h/voices.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8pBd7OQEI/AAAAAAAAAYo/Oxb1KPbixmI/s320/voices.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363550786411184194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like shopping.  I keep telling myself that I don't need to spend anymore money but I don't feel like listening.  The stores are calling me.  My bills are paid and I have a roof over my head, so who am I hurting?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don't have anymore room in my closet......so what!  My husband bought me those special contraptions that I have the space for five hangers but I hang ten.....so what!  I make sure to close my closet at night because I don't want to hear my husband talking crap, or shaking his head, because my closet is so full.....so what!  That doesn't mean there's a problem.  I certainly don't have a shopping issue.  I can stop any time I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a thing for handbags.  Anyone who knows me will tell you that.  So what!  I like my bag to match my outfit.  I'm not one of those women who carry the same one no matter what they have on.  I break out into a sweat when I see a beautifully made pocketbook.  So what!  It's my husband's fault.  He bought me my first Gucci bag about nineteen years ago and I was hooked.  I was on a designer kick for a little while but once we had our second child I downgraded.  See, I have control.  So what I don't have anymore room for my pocketbooks.  I'm going to buy another one this weekend.  Does that mean I have a problem?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt of buying a purple Kooba bag last night, but anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8sEKoK9tI/AAAAAAAAAYw/-XdGceauuos/s1600-h/Kooba-Nelli-Shopper-Navy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 285px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8sEKoK9tI/AAAAAAAAAYw/-XdGceauuos/s320/Kooba-Nelli-Shopper-Navy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363554131305494226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can stop any time I want to.  Does it matter that i'm online shopping when I should be working?  It's not my fault.  Why do they send me those damned catalogs in the mail?  I get so many of them that my mail must be checked every day so that the mailman doesn't have to stuff things inside.  Should I be blamed for looking through the catalogs and finding sales?  I've become the queen of coupon codes.  I never pay full price.  That's a good thing right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband suggested we rent a storage room to have a place where we could put the things we might not be using but need a place for.  As of right now it's full of my winter clothes.  I swap when the seasons change.  I look at all the bags and boxes and I know that it's too much.  I mean, my clothes aren't the only things there but they take up a whole lot of room.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm a woman.  I like clothes, and shoes, and especially handbags.  I need to have choices.  My choices are vast.  Does that mean I have a problem?  I say no.  I'm a woman.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night I dreamt of gladiator sandals and crocodile Coach bags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8wZ8w3pUI/AAAAAAAAAY4/_PYjqzvH1I0/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8wZ8w3pUI/AAAAAAAAAY4/_PYjqzvH1I0/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363558903587513666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8wiY6ftXI/AAAAAAAAAZA/5_MxBHycyLQ/s1600-h/13919_b4ct_a0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 284px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8wiY6ftXI/AAAAAAAAAZA/5_MxBHycyLQ/s320/13919_b4ct_a0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363559048583034226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I might have a bit of an issue.  We're in a recession and I have made the decision not to shop so much.  So, I did buy a blouse online this morning but that was my last purchase of the summer, well, after I buy the handbag I saw at Macy's.  Yeah, that will be my last purchase of the summer.  I love shopping.  It's a fun stress reliever.  I may do a little too much of it but I can stop any time I want to, really I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Tammy and.....I may be on my way to buy a pair of shoes...(It's my co-workers fault.  She wants me to go with her to Steve Madden)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1613251380136667782?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1613251380136667782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1613251380136667782&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1613251380136667782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1613251380136667782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-name-is-tammyand-i-love-to-shop.html' title='My Name is Tammy....and i love to shop!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sm8pBd7OQEI/AAAAAAAAAYo/Oxb1KPbixmI/s72-c/voices.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6269538301531120538</id><published>2009-07-24T12:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T13:15:21.516-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmnryPREuaI/AAAAAAAAAYY/Jh_UmdLQRn8/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmnryPREuaI/AAAAAAAAAYY/Jh_UmdLQRn8/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362076079685417378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever walked around with a lump in your throat or that shaky feeling in your stomach?  I've been doing that for a few days now.  Making hard decisions can make you feel crazy sometimes.  It's difficult when you know you have to do something that you don't really want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmnsGGdl1xI/AAAAAAAAAYg/UyPrk2yqRZU/s1600-h/lens2358558_1230870105lumpinthroat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmnsGGdl1xI/AAAAAAAAAYg/UyPrk2yqRZU/s320/lens2358558_1230870105lumpinthroat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362076420919383826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I bit the bullet and told someone I love very much how I really feel about them.  It wasn't easy.  I've made some mistakes in my relationship with this person and apologized for them. I'm not always the most forgiving person when I am hurt or upset.  This person both hurt and pissed me off and instead of talking about it I lashed out at them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My reaction started a chain of events that lead me to realize that I didn't really want this person in my life anymore.  Once I came to this decision the lump in my throat developed and the butterflies started fluttering in my belly. I didn't know how to tell them or even if I wanted to.  It's much easier to not talk to someone and have them think everything is okay.  I've done a lot of that and it's never successful.  You just end up carrying a bunch of crap around and letting it build up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what will become of this relationship but I do know that now is not a good time for me to be involved with someone who does not bring positivity into my life.  I don't need negative vibes or intentions.  I have a lot going on and I refuse to become overwhelmed because i'm trying to hold on to a bad relationship.  Just because someone says they love you it doesn't mean they want the best for you.  On the other hand it doesn't mean they don't want the best for you if they don't react the way you would like them to.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can't gel with everyone, even those we share bloodlines with.  Sometimes the best relationships are the ones we make on our own and not the ones we are born with.  This is a lesson I have learned in my time of need.  We can't assume that someone will be there for us just because we are related.  Some don't have the capacity and others don't really care.  I've been judged in a courtroom of opinions and found guilty by someone I didn't expect that from.  I'm glad this happened because now I know where I stand in people's hearts and the place I need to give them in mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is throwing me in a lot of different directions and i'm doing pretty good.  Instead of playing the victim i'm learing from every experience.  I'm still that work in progress that i've been for some time but I am definitely moving in the right direction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6269538301531120538?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6269538301531120538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6269538301531120538&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6269538301531120538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6269538301531120538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/07/have-you-ever-walked-around-with-lump.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmnryPREuaI/AAAAAAAAAYY/Jh_UmdLQRn8/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1205742768243785080</id><published>2009-07-21T12:22:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T13:10:01.068-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama Mia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmXtcRtQ67I/AAAAAAAAAYI/N_lVik4UPko/s1600-h/black_pregnant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmXtcRtQ67I/AAAAAAAAAYI/N_lVik4UPko/s320/black_pregnant.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360952001499818930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sixteen years old when my daughter was born.  I remember the shock I felt when the doctor told me I was pregnant.  It was something out of an after school special.  I really believed it couldn't happen to me.  I went into the doctor's office with a twisted mouth knowing there was no way I could be having a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine how it felt to hear the words I never thought I would hear.  There were circumstances that made them harder than they already were.  I'll just say that my mother was not very happy about the situation.  Who could blame her?  I'd always done well in school and she had high hopes for me.  In her eyes having a child would destroy my life.  She felt like it was over for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind was made up as soon as I was told there was a life growing inside of me.  I knew that I was going to have my baby. Nothing and no one was going to change my mind. I was immediately attached and didn't think of what the future held.  In my 16 year old mind I knew that things would work themselves out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were some struggles throughout my pregnancy.  Circumstances stressed me out, but I pushed on.  My boyfriend (who is now my husband) and I held on to each other.  We felt like it was us against the world.  No one understood us or cared what we were going through.  He held my hand the entire time and vowed to protect me from anyone or anything that would dare try and hurt me.  We grew closer than ever.  He became the man I needed even though he was still an 18 year old boy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was there with me throughout every second of my 23 hours of labor, holding my hand, wiping my brow, feeding me ice chips, kissing my forehead and doing whatever needed to be done.  Our bond was solidified in that hospital room. It's an experience that I will never forget. I can still see the face he made when he saw the babies head trying to push it's way into the world.  We still laugh about the way he ran out of the room to find a doctor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a while for our daughter to breathe after she was born.  It was the scariest moment of my life.  My "boyfriend" and I held hands and cried until she did.  It was the most wonderful sound either of us had ever heard.  We looked at each other and renewed the vow we made to be the best parents we could possibly be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we had help after our child was born, we always held on to that us against the world mentality.  So many people were telling us that we were going to fail that we felt like we had no choice but to succeed.  We were determined to never have to ask anyone for help. We planned so much during the pregnancy that by the time our daughter were born we knew what needed to be done.  It felt good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying things were peachy keen.  I ended up going to an alternative high school for teenage mothers and was unable to graduate with my original high school class.  I never got to go to prom. While my friends were hanging out and having fun, I was taking care of a child.  I couldn't relate to them the way I once did because our priorities were totally different.  I stopped feeling like a teenager the day my daughter was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made a lot of sacrifices to be a mother and I do not regret any of them.  My life didn't exactly go in the direction I planned but that's okay.  I was always an excellent student and it was always a given that I would go to college.  That didn't happen right away and most of the things I expected didn't come to pass, but I can't explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a good life.  My daughter is 24 years old and has done very well for herself.  She has a Masters and a Bachelors and went to an excellent college.  My husband and I had another child, our son who is 18 and just completed his first year of college.  I'm very proud of my children and love them very much.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I have gone through some things.  Who doesn't?  We get on each other's nerves and have our arguments.  There have been times when I wasn't sure we would make it.  Those times aren't too far in the past.  I have taken time and thought of that boy who held my hand and dared anyone to do me harm.  He still has that mentality and protects me to no end.  We don't always get along and things aren't always perfect but that's okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about those teenage years a lot lately.  Someone I know will soon be starting down the path I once traveled.  It's all in God's hands and I pray that things will work out for the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1205742768243785080?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1205742768243785080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1205742768243785080&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1205742768243785080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1205742768243785080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-was-sixteen-years-old-when-my.html' title='Mama Mia'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SmXtcRtQ67I/AAAAAAAAAYI/N_lVik4UPko/s72-c/black_pregnant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1062559394495165172</id><published>2009-07-15T14:22:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T14:39:55.502-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead Weight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sl4egBOpETI/AAAAAAAAAX4/cM1Zl9aaCEo/s1600-h/writer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sl4egBOpETI/AAAAAAAAAX4/cM1Zl9aaCEo/s320/writer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358754142051963186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got some dead weight hovering around my space&lt;br /&gt;I need to get rid of it&lt;br /&gt;Took a while to realize&lt;br /&gt;That everything you love&lt;br /&gt;Isn't good for you&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the best taste &lt;br /&gt;Is the one that's bad for you&lt;br /&gt;Gotta get rid of the weight&lt;br /&gt;It's already adding extra pounds to my heart&lt;br /&gt;If your idea of love&lt;br /&gt;Is judgment &lt;br /&gt;You're not worth my time&lt;br /&gt;You're dead weight&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I love you any less&lt;br /&gt;Just means i'm learning to love me more&lt;br /&gt;Funniest thing is&lt;br /&gt;You don't even know&lt;br /&gt;What you think you know&lt;br /&gt;My life &lt;br /&gt;Is not in the state you perceive it to be&lt;br /&gt;I'm good&lt;br /&gt;Just trying to be free&lt;br /&gt;Free of drama&lt;br /&gt;Free of nonsense&lt;br /&gt;Free to live&lt;br /&gt;Free to love&lt;br /&gt;Free to be me &lt;br /&gt;No more dead weight&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I love you any less&lt;br /&gt;Just means i'm learning to love me more&lt;br /&gt;You surprised me&lt;br /&gt;Thought you were better than that&lt;br /&gt;Did you stoop that low&lt;br /&gt;To the examination of my flaws&lt;br /&gt;Or the questioning of my decisions&lt;br /&gt;Are you God&lt;br /&gt;His is the judment that matters most&lt;br /&gt;I don't always agree with the things you do&lt;br /&gt;But I try my best to be there&lt;br /&gt;Unrestrained&lt;br /&gt;And willing to help&lt;br /&gt;To listen&lt;br /&gt;Never said I was perfect&lt;br /&gt;Mistakes are made&lt;br /&gt;And there's one I want to clear up&lt;br /&gt;Never thought it would come to this&lt;br /&gt;But&lt;br /&gt;I'm dropping the weight of you&lt;br /&gt;From my shoulders&lt;br /&gt;And my heart&lt;br /&gt;And my space&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I love you any less&lt;br /&gt;Just means i'm learning to love me more&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1062559394495165172?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1062559394495165172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1062559394495165172&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1062559394495165172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1062559394495165172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/07/dead-weight.html' title='Dead Weight'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sl4egBOpETI/AAAAAAAAAX4/cM1Zl9aaCEo/s72-c/writer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-8416602888848761129</id><published>2009-07-06T08:39:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T09:02:16.222-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Little Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SlHyXuwV8LI/AAAAAAAAAXw/b4QTlKMsC2c/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SlHyXuwV8LI/AAAAAAAAAXw/b4QTlKMsC2c/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355327921421938866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand people who do things they know are wrong and instead of apologizing say, "Don't be mad at me," or "I don't want to be the bad guy." That really bothers me.  Suppose I have every right to be mad?  What if what you did really pissed me off?  Is forgiveness always automatic?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly you know you were in the wrong if you ask someone not to be mad at you.  Why not just apologize?  Are two little words that hard to say?  I'm sorry seems so easy.  I'll admit i've haven't always been one who easily says i'm sorry.  It hasn't always been immediate.  There were times when I would give a situation time to wind down and come around and apologize later, but i've never asked for leniency without apology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is perfect but I really don't like it when someone does something out of line and tries to make you feel sorry for them.  I've fallen for it before but i'm tired now.  Yes, I am mad and you are the bad guy.  There I said it.  I don't have any sympathy.  I've ended up feeling bad because I was upset with someone for something they did and that's crazy.  I can't do it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People show you who they are when you really need them.  I've been shown some things that I chose to ignore but I can't keep the blinders on anymore.  I also won't allow myself to get wrapped up in the melodrama of others.  I have the right to be upset and I know that I need to learn how to deal with people in the manner they deserve to be dealt with.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly but surely i'm learning to put all things and people in their place.  Everyone serves a purpose in your life.  I'm learning who goes where.  I know who I can depend on and who I cannot.  I see the relationships that are genuine and the ones that are all bells and whistles.  I definitely know who is really there for me and who just wants to sit back and judge me.  Who loves me and who loves me not is more than evident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all good.  I am really going to try to be as genuine and honest in the relationships that deserve that from me.  There are some that don't and I have finally admitted that to myself.  I have so many things that I want to do with my life and I don't want to allow the stress of worrying about this one and that one to hold me back.  It's not easy and it won't be immediate.  There are people in my life who I love that just don't love the same way.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to keep looking ahead.  Looking back does nothing but keep you in a space that you don't want to be in.  I may end up losing some folks but I have to surround myself with positivity.  I don't want to change anyone.  I don't have that right.  The only one that I am trying to change is me.  My eyes are opened and I see so many things differently.  I can't hold on to old notions of who people are because I know the truth.  I'm not perfect, no one is, i'm just trying to find my way in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-8416602888848761129?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/8416602888848761129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=8416602888848761129&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8416602888848761129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8416602888848761129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/07/two-little-words.html' title='Two Little Words'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SlHyXuwV8LI/AAAAAAAAAXw/b4QTlKMsC2c/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2839122840766334957</id><published>2009-07-01T13:25:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T13:56:32.173-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One Year!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Skuc4Hmjj7I/AAAAAAAAAXo/WG9IPC4bAEg/s1600-h/mile_monteiro_island_500px_artworkimage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 306px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Skuc4Hmjj7I/AAAAAAAAAXo/WG9IPC4bAEg/s320/mile_monteiro_island_500px_artworkimage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353545069987336114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have officially been blogging for a year.  The time went by so fast.  I've learned a lot about myself and made a lot of changes since I started Tammy's Thoughts.  I've been writing for a long time but starting this blog was a big step for me.  It's the first time i've really been willing to share my passion for writing with others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My emotions have been all over the place for a couple of years and I really needed an outlet.  Blogging has really helped me.  It's been like my public journal and has actually helped me learn to be more open.  My blogs friends may know more about me than some of the people I see every day at work or play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of blog friends, i've met a lot of really nice people over the blogosphere.  I don't have the most popular blog with a bunch of followers or comments.  That use to bother me but at this point I cherish those who take the time to visit my blog so much that it doesn't matter.  I'm good.  It's nice to know that my writing is reaching people I admire. I have gotten a lot of encouragement and advice from my blog friends and I hope to meet them some day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogging has become a very important part of my life.  It seems like i'm always searching for a topic to post about.  It's such a wonderful outlet for all that goes on inside of my writer's brain.  I'm a lot different than I was when I started blogging.  I'm more confident in my writing.  I've always known that writing was my passion, I was just extra nervous about what others would think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those days are long gone.  My swagger as a writer and a person is totally different.  I know that I have been blessed with a gift.  I'm finally ready to share that gift.  My book is complete and I am ready to be a published author.  I'm no longer scared or worried.  I'm ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to take this time to thank all of those who took the time to visit, follow, or comment here.  You all mean a lot to me.  I hope to be blogging and writing novels for many years to come.  It is an honor to be a part of the blogging world.  It's what helped me come into my own as a writer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2839122840766334957?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2839122840766334957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2839122840766334957&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2839122840766334957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2839122840766334957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-year.html' title='One Year!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Skuc4Hmjj7I/AAAAAAAAAXo/WG9IPC4bAEg/s72-c/mile_monteiro_island_500px_artworkimage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2107067751545182441</id><published>2009-06-29T13:05:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T13:56:15.888-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Good</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Skj1IqQPtGI/AAAAAAAAAXY/W1zaSCvEDDw/s1600-h/mile_monteiro_island_500px_artworkimage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Skj1IqQPtGI/AAAAAAAAAXY/W1zaSCvEDDw/s320/mile_monteiro_island_500px_artworkimage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352797686260020322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm finally in a place where I feel comfortable with me.  It wasn't always that way.  I use to worry about what other people thought about me or how they felt about the things I said and did.  I kept a lot of my feelings to myself because of this.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was approaching the big 4-0 a couple years ago I started to rethink a lot of things.  The way I approached life began to change and I saw things in a different light.  I guess started to care less about who did and didn't like me.  I felt myself changing in so many ways.  At times it was confusing, but now i'm glad I let go and allowed myself to experience everything that was coming at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm 41 years old now and things have definitely changed.  I guess you could say i'm a little more selfish.  I use to put others well-being before mine all the time.  As a mother you have no choice.  Your children have to come first.  My children are not children anymore.  My daughter is 24 and my son is 18.  They have lives of their own.  I did my job as far as they are concerned.  They're good people.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course there are times when you put others before yourself.  I'm not saying I never do, it's just not as frequent.  Coming into my own has really opened my eyes to a lot of things.  I know this is a recurring theme on my blog, but it's something that has really wowed me.  I have really put my rose colored glasses in the case.  I feel like I felt after I got my pupils dilated.  My vision was extremely cloudy for a while and I was so happy when it cleared up that I looked at things totally different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gotten rid of a lot of the negativity in my life.  A lot of it started with me.  I had to stop being so pessimistic.  It was my way of guarding myself from disappointment.  If you assume that something isn't going to work out then you won't be as upset when it doesn't because you prepared yourself.  I now realize that all I was doing was blocking my blessings.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I"ve learned that people are who they are.  You can't change folks and shouldn't try to make them into who you want them to be.  There are relationships I have that I wish were stronger but I have to work with what's given to me.  I realized that I was in a couple 60-40's and I thought about it, journaled about it, blogged about it and moved on.  I'm okay now.  I know the position peolpe have in my life and where I fit into theirs and it's fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I carried so much on my heart and shoulders that I didn't have to.  I worried way too much.  Somone sent me a quote that said, "Worry is the misuse of imagination."  I couldn't agree more.  I was so stressed out from worry at one point in my life that I could barely function.  It was not a good way to live.  I worried about everyone I loved and everything that was going on but now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so much happier.  I feel so much better.  A change in your outlook on life can do wonders for your spirit.  I no longer feel like i'm walking around under a dark cloud.  I have released so much from my being that I feel cleansed.  I still have work to do and life still throws those curve balls but i'm doing much better than I was yesterday.  I'm taking it one day at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Good!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2107067751545182441?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2107067751545182441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2107067751545182441&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2107067751545182441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2107067751545182441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-good.html' title='I&apos;m Good'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Skj1IqQPtGI/AAAAAAAAAXY/W1zaSCvEDDw/s72-c/mile_monteiro_island_500px_artworkimage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6602535928666561933</id><published>2009-06-24T07:58:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T10:16:05.002-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing is Caring</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SkIzNFlOFTI/AAAAAAAAAXI/LHSAd1ZWGTk/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SkIzNFlOFTI/AAAAAAAAAXI/LHSAd1ZWGTk/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350895607199175986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.  Certain events in my life have forced me to take a step back and look at a lot of things.  I've been cruising lately.  I got comfortable and started slipping, but i'm back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that I have been sharing myself with people who do not reciprocate.  That's not a good thing.  I have never been one to give of my emotional self easily.  There's a lot to give.  I'm a very sensitive person.  I feel very deeply.  I'm much more emotional than I seem.  Those who know me well know how I am.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pick and choose who I want to tell the story of my life.  People talk and I definitely don't like my business in the street.  That's not the only reason.  I like to keep my personal, well, personal.  It's all close to the vest.  When I choose to confide in someone it is because I trust them with all of my heart.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all need people in our lives we can trust.  We need people who we can go to when the storm gets kind of rough.  A shoulder to cry on is a big thing.  I'm beginning to realize that I have used shoulders that I shouldn't have.  Like the title says, sharing is caring.  I open myself to people I care for.  Lately there is a question that I need to ask.  If the sharing only goes one way does it mean the other person does not care for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a work in progress.  I've been saying that since I began this blog.  I'm a soul searcher.  Life has changed me and i'm sure it will continue to do so.  An evolution is going on.  I'm 41 years old and my mind is still a sponge and so is my heart.  I'm trying to soak up all the knowledge and love I can.  I'm open to just about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are definitely opened.  There are people in my life that I have misjudged.  I've been wrong.  I don't want to close myself up but I don't want to trust the wrong people either.  I'm getting advice that has an agenda behind it from people who I realize I have one-sided relationships with.  It wasn't easy for me to admit this to myself but when you search your soul you have to trust what you come up with.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's crazy when you tell people so much about yourself and what's going on in your life and realize they do not do the same.  You find out little things on a website or in conversation that you didn't know about.  Secrets?  I try not to keep them from people I care about but now that I am forced to face their secretive nature I have to keep things to myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat back and had to acknowledge the fact that I don't really know anything about people in my life that I have shared myself with.  That's not a good thing.  I don't need relationships that are not balanced.  It's time for me to find a new niche in life.  It's time for new things.  I'm tired of reaching out to people who don't seem to reach back.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have relationships with each other that I should be a part of but I realize I am not.  Tattooed arms showed me that years ago.  I realized the deal and pulled back, even though it hurt.  For years I tried to get in where I fit in, but now I have to realize that i'm the square and they're the circle.  I never expressed my hurt and that's on me.  I let it go on for a long time and there's so much water under my bridge now that I have no choice but to move on.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't trust a lot of the people I use to trust.  I am learning to take things for what they are without fooling myself into thinking they're something else.  I'm learning a lot.  It is what it is.  I have goals that I need to accomplish.  My eyes are on the prize.  I know that I have to stop letting mixed emotions hold me back.  I have to take life for what it is and people for who they are.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is an open book to those I love and care about.  I just have to choose a little more wisely.  I don't want to hold back but I have no choice.  I'm only bothering with those who genuinely have time and reciprocity for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6602535928666561933?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6602535928666561933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6602535928666561933&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6602535928666561933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6602535928666561933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/06/sharing-is-caring.html' title='Sharing is Caring'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SkIzNFlOFTI/AAAAAAAAAXI/LHSAd1ZWGTk/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3410887173492646378</id><published>2009-06-17T07:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T08:36:37.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SjjjEortFYI/AAAAAAAAAWw/zoGj2bIUjrM/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SjjjEortFYI/AAAAAAAAAWw/zoGj2bIUjrM/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348274226282173826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine is going through a very trying time right now.  She's having problems at home and work.  Her day is filled with constant drama.  Only a few people know what she is going through and if she didn't tell you, you'd have no idea.  Her attitude is so positive.  She always has a smile on her face and a kind word for everyone she talks to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's impressive.  I've never been one to hide my feelings very well.  I'm getting better but it's not easy at all.  I wear my emotions on my sleeve and in my expression.  I guess it's just a part of who I am.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked my friend how she keeps such a positive attitude through all the adversity she is facing and she simply sad, "God will make a way."  She said she doesn't worry and all she can do is take it one day at a time and when she feels like she may become overwhelmed she falls to her knees.  I had to smile.  Her attitude and kind spirit is infectious.  I know that her blessing is coming and so does she.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still a work in progress.  I want to think positively and let a smile be my umbrella but i'm just not there yet.  It's not that easy for me.  I definitely believe in God and have faith.  I know that he has brought me through a lot.  I haven't been to church in a while.  I keep saying i'd like to go but I haven't gotten there yet.  That being said, I still feel good about the relationship I have with God because it is mine.  I don't worry about what anyone may think of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for my friend every morning and night. If she can keep a smile on her face through all that life has put in front of her she deserved to be blessed a thousand times over.  Her faith in God has never wavered.  I love to be around her.  Everything about her attitude is positive and I respect her so much.  I'm sure things may be different in her quiet moments, but those are her moments.  I have learned a lot from this person and I am really happy I got to know her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3410887173492646378?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3410887173492646378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3410887173492646378&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3410887173492646378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3410887173492646378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/06/friend-of-mine-is-going-through-very.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SjjjEortFYI/AAAAAAAAAWw/zoGj2bIUjrM/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4240152934288709702</id><published>2009-06-03T08:42:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T08:56:16.315-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Date Night</title><content type='html'>How fly is it that the President of the United States made time to take his wife out on a date?  I love this couple so much!  I love the fact that they got all decked out.  Do the damned thing Obamas.  Keep the spark alive.  It's so wonderful to see Black love on display. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are complaining about the cost to the taxpayers, which I think is ridiculous.  President Obama cannot control how he has to travel.  Folks really need to calm down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know one thing, if the President of the United States can find the time to take his wife out on a date, all the excuses for every other man go out the window.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZx3dveFzI/AAAAAAAAAWo/XL15qJMYuwk/s1600-h/slide_1657_22779_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZx3dveFzI/AAAAAAAAAWo/XL15qJMYuwk/s320/slide_1657_22779_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343083205612148530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxz4i0j7I/AAAAAAAAAWg/NvAKInSZhJk/s1600-h/slide_1657_22707_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxz4i0j7I/AAAAAAAAAWg/NvAKInSZhJk/s320/slide_1657_22707_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343083144087375794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxu5DocjI/AAAAAAAAAWY/SYxoi9OpCYg/s1600-h/obama-date-night_290.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxu5DocjI/AAAAAAAAAWY/SYxoi9OpCYg/s320/obama-date-night_290.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343083058325647922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxqQV1ZEI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/EkwHN9X6nco/s1600-h/slide_1657_22706_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxqQV1ZEI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/EkwHN9X6nco/s320/slide_1657_22706_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343082978676663362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxkXLuxDI/AAAAAAAAAWI/6Ytbti2teew/s1600-h/slide_1657_22704_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZxkXLuxDI/AAAAAAAAAWI/6Ytbti2teew/s320/slide_1657_22704_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343082877434119218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZwm7nCKkI/AAAAAAAAAWA/6VdjvegCzI8/s1600-h/obama-date-night_290.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZwm7nCKkI/AAAAAAAAAWA/6VdjvegCzI8/s320/obama-date-night_290.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343081822060423746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are so fly!  I love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4240152934288709702?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4240152934288709702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4240152934288709702&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4240152934288709702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4240152934288709702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/06/date-night.html' title='Date Night'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiZx3dveFzI/AAAAAAAAAWo/XL15qJMYuwk/s72-c/slide_1657_22779_large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1434233558349572903</id><published>2009-06-01T07:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T08:30:06.695-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Book Club</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiPJwy4lcNI/AAAAAAAAAVw/vnIeigk8gj0/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiPJwy4lcNI/AAAAAAAAAVw/vnIeigk8gj0/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342335423121551570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been editing my novel since Decmember.  It's much more work than I thought it was going to be but I have to do what I have to do to make my dream come true.  I just finished my second stage of editing and feel that I will need to do at least two more read throughs before my novel is where I want it to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a big step in getting things done this Saturday.  I had my first book club meeting.  I reached out to some people whose opinions I trust and asked them to give me honest feedback.  They have only read one chapter of the book, but the passion they showed for my baby made me smile.  By the time the meeting was over I felt more pride than I have in a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I have grown as a person because doing something like this would not even been an option a little while ago.  It's not that I didn't believe in my talent as a writer, I just wasn't sure others would.  I was so worried about what other people thought in the past that I held myself back.  Those days are definitely over!  God gave me a gift that I plan to share with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the ladies of the club began with a round of applause for my accomplishment, I was able to relax the nervous energy that was swirling around my being.  I've never been part of a book club and had no idea what to do.  I was also worried about what everyone thought about the chapter they read.  I am so thankful that I chose the people I did because they would not allow me to doubt myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother does not like to read novels so I knew she would not want to be a part of the club.  She offered to cook her famous fried chicken and help in any way that she could.  I could tell that she was proud of me.  That's very important to me.  She came to the meeting and made sure everything was set up.  I really appreciate her help and support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I truly feel like I have a support system.  That's very important.  It's always important to have people around you who care.  It makes the hard times easier.  I know getting my book published will not be an easy task, but at least I know I have folks around me I can lean on.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend who is part of the club asked me a while ago what I wanted people to get from my novel.  I told her I wanted them to be able to relate.  I want them to think about the characters when they're not reading the book and speak of them like they are people.  I want a lasting impression to be left on a person when they're done reading.  There are so many things that I want.  When a rainy day comes around, I want folks to pick up my book.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiPJlw26EiI/AAAAAAAAAVo/c_BJH1AuM_g/s1600-h/bookclub.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 273px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiPJlw26EiI/AAAAAAAAAVo/c_BJH1AuM_g/s320/bookclub.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342335233599083042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not help but smile as my book club talked about the characters of the book.  They related to the characters and that made me so happy.  The discussions went from my fiction to real life.  I was no longer waiting to exhale.  I let that air go and relaxed.  If these wonderful, intelligent women enjoyed my words, I knew I had nothing to worry about.  I know that they will be honest and help me prepare for whatever comes my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you so much to the women who took time out of their lives to help me make my dream a reality.  Thank you Chandra, Marilyn, Glynis, Yvette, and Char (Club President).  I love you all and i'm so thankful for everything you have done and will do to help me achieve my goal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1434233558349572903?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1434233558349572903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1434233558349572903&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1434233558349572903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1434233558349572903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/06/book-club.html' title='Book Club'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SiPJwy4lcNI/AAAAAAAAAVw/vnIeigk8gj0/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7106737543788448760</id><published>2009-05-26T09:20:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T09:46:53.367-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ShvyyQdMHOI/AAAAAAAAAU4/Uz32pR5VaiE/s1600-h/Smile_sun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ShvyyQdMHOI/AAAAAAAAAU4/Uz32pR5VaiE/s320/Smile_sun.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340128728402631906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't do much this Memorial Day weekend.  My husband and I went to the movies and had a few drinks Saturday but that's about it.  He had to work Sunday and I didn't feel like making any plans.  I cooked and laid around all day.  I got up early Monday morning to do the laundry and he cooked dinner.  It was a nice, relaxing weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather should be breaking for good and i'm ready for a good picnic.  My husband and I have been talking about taking a few things to the park now and then just to spend some time alone.  I'm looking forward to that.  I think it's important to take time to do things with your mate.  We have a lot of plans for the summer.  I went to the bank the other day and won a backpack that contained a picnic pack for two and took that as a sign.  I'm ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nice to spend time with your family when the weather is nice. My family doesn't spend time together the way we use to.  People have things to do.  Hopefully we will be able to change that.  Spending time with the ones you love is so important.  I'm not a phone person and would much rather be in someone's presence.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I have two timeshares that we barely use.  We haven't had a good vacation in a while and plan to change that.  I've been to Cancun with the girls and wanted to take him but the swine flu situation has changed that.  I know i'm ready to go to an island. I need to destress.  Situations have come up that would have normally gotten me down in the past but i've dealt with them.  I would love to sit on a beach and reflect, preferably in Barbados.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We usually go to Vegas once a year.  We weren't able to go last year so i'm ready for the make up.  I love Vegas.  There's always something to do and the fun never ends.  My husband and I have had some fun times in that city.  I can taste the seafood at the Rio's buffet right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting deep into finishing my novel.  Saturday will be the first of a few book club meetings I will be having with friends to get their feedback.  I was nervous when I came up with the idea but now i'm excited.  I'm over the time when I was afraid to share my gift with others.  I know that I am a very good writer and I am proud of what I have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to have a good summer.  I'm more of a spring person but i'm ready to do the summer thing.  It will be nice to take a walk and enjoy the weather.  I've been doing a lot of reflecting and getting to know myself and I feel like i'm breaking just like the weather.  I've learned a lot about myself and others and plan to apply it all as I enjoy the sun.  I know who I want to spend time with and the things I want to do.  I'm looking forward to making it happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7106737543788448760?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7106737543788448760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7106737543788448760&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7106737543788448760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7106737543788448760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-want-to.html' title='I want to...'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ShvyyQdMHOI/AAAAAAAAAU4/Uz32pR5VaiE/s72-c/Smile_sun.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7878765203160736988</id><published>2009-05-22T08:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T13:37:34.635-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='short story from high school'/><title type='text'>Sunflowers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ShacH1SO8HI/AAAAAAAAAUo/VXPDE72bxqU/s1600-h/sunflowers_button.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ShacH1SO8HI/AAAAAAAAAUo/VXPDE72bxqU/s320/sunflowers_button.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338626066670874738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I were cleaning out our storage room and I found some short stories that I have written.  I decided to share them with my blog friends.  Here is the first one.  I wrote it when I was in high school.  I didn't change anything.  I typed it just as it was written.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SUNFLOWERS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother died when I was 14 years old and a freshman in high school.  Her death was the most traumatic experience of my life.  I never thought I would get over her not being around and I was right.  I'm still mourning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were extremely close.  Even though my dad was there it was always my mom that I went to for everything.  We had our own little circle that we wouldn't let anyone else enter and even though she's gone, it still remains in tact.  I continue to go to her in times of need because even though I know she's not her in body she will always be here in spirit.  My mommy's still helping me make some of the biggest decisions of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things that remind me of her like the smell of Jergens soap or homemade biscuits in the morning.  Whenever I smell pine I think of our Saturday morning cleaning sessions.  We would open all the windows, put on our favorite cd's, and clean it from top to bottom.  I'm not a big fan of cleaning but my mother made it so much fun that I forgot what I was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also think of her whenever I open a book.  My mom was very big on the importance of reading.  I still remember the books she read to me when I was a toddler.  I loved sitting on her lap and listening to the voices she made while reading to me.  She acted out the characters in those books like a seasoned actress.  She made reading so much fun and once I learned how to read on my own my mind was like a sponge for the new words and experiences that were inside the pages of book, after book, after book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those things remind me of my mother, but whenever I see a sunflower I feel like she's her with me.  Every time I see one I get chills.  I'm beginning to think my mother's spirit is in them.  Everyone that knew how much she loved sunflowers so the funeral chapel was filled with them when she died.  Seeing them always made me feel better.  That was when I knew for sure that she would always be with me.  To this day a sunflower is delivered to my home once a week.  I've moved twice and somehow the guy that delivers the flower always finds me.  I have no idea who is sending them and he won't tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was growing up our kitchen was decorated with sunflowers.  I loved waking up every morning and eating breakfast at the kitchen table because the sunflowers aleays helped me get my day off to a happy start. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunflowers also remind me of my mother's personality.  She was such a bright person, both spiritually and mentally.  She was definitely the smartest person I have ever met.  She could also make me feel bright and cheery no matter what my mood.  Growing up I thought my mom's life was great because she was always smiling.  It wasn't until after she died that I found out about all the things she was going through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how a mother can make her child feel as though everything is right with the world when in reality she's dying inside.  Now that i'm older I can look back and see that the signs were there.  I cannot help but feel that I could have helped her with what she was going through if I would have known. My dad died two weeks ago.  Even though we weren't as close as my mom and I we did have a good relationship.  He had a heart attack in his sleep and never woke up.  It was at his funeral that I found out how little I knew about my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father's family is very large so after my mother died I always had a lot of females to help me through life.  It wasn't the same as having her there but my aunties did the best they could.  The family's not very close, but for some reason I was always treated special.  My Aunt Linda told me it was because my mother was such a special person and they all loved her so much.  Now I know it was probably because they felt sorry for me and guilty for what they had done to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five women showed up at my father's funeral with brothers and sisters I never knew I had.  At first I didn't pay these women any attention, but as I watched the faces of my aunts, uncles, and grandparents, I could feel that something was wrong.  None of them would look at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone went to my grandparent's house after the burial and I began to ask questions.  I asked if some of these children were family because they all looked so much like me.  No one would answer me.  Finally my favorite aunt, Kathy, took me into a bedroom and told me stories of my father's many affairs and children on the side.  My father had six children other than me before my mother died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there and heard tales of the way they all lied for my father so he could see these women.  They were partners in his infidelity.  My mother was a special person and even though they knew that they betrayed her.  She paid all the bills and kept our family together while he hung out in bars, met women, and made babies. There was so much.  I felt faint by the time my aunt was done.  It was as though my entire life was a lie perpetrated on me by everyone I knew.  I felt so betrayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the funeral immediately and haven't seen or talked to any of my family members since.  The way I feel right now, I don't know if i'll ever be able to see them.  I do know that it will never be the same.  My mother didn't deserve to be treated the way they treated her.  I'll probably never forgive them. My mother never gave me even a little idea that so much was going on in her life.  She always made sure I had the best of everything and I knew I was loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell to my knees as soon as I got home from the funeral and thanked God for the years he allowed me to spend with my mother.  I know that I am truly blessed and even though she's gone I know that she will never leave me.  Whenever my heart is in turmoil somehow she seems to appear in her own way and make me feel better or face the decision I need to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOMEONE IS AT MY DOOR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Delivery, I have your sunflower."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7878765203160736988?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7878765203160736988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7878765203160736988&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7878765203160736988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7878765203160736988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/05/sunflowers.html' title='Sunflowers'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ShacH1SO8HI/AAAAAAAAAUo/VXPDE72bxqU/s72-c/sunflowers_button.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6323174226315768442</id><published>2009-05-13T08:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T08:56:01.837-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Run on...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgrDKLQqskI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/RmMnyF_mQBs/s1600-h/960x320_running1_960x320_200806231242.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 106px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgrDKLQqskI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/RmMnyF_mQBs/s320/960x320_running1_960x320_200806231242.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335291288162579010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes life reminds me of a run on sentence no pauses periods semi colons commas or anything no matter what happens life goes on you may think you have problems and then you look around and eventually you realize that someone in the world is doing worse than you are so you just have to keep going no pause periods semi colons commas or anything the motion is never ending the ups and downs continue the curve balls are thrown but you just have to keep dodge them and keep pushing no pauses periods semi colons commas or anything it's not always hectic but it is continuous even when you're sleeping life is going on without you all you can do is get up and start all over again just don't let the routine become routine spice it up live and love to the fullest no pauses periods semi colons commas or anything&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6323174226315768442?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6323174226315768442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6323174226315768442&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6323174226315768442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6323174226315768442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/05/run-on.html' title='Run on...'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgrDKLQqskI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/RmMnyF_mQBs/s72-c/960x320_running1_960x320_200806231242.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-8015176445272571766</id><published>2009-05-06T12:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T13:38:46.485-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Angel's Heart Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgG4RIkmCoI/AAAAAAAAAUA/tTuaw40ZQKs/s1600-h/angel_heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgG4RIkmCoI/AAAAAAAAAUA/tTuaw40ZQKs/s320/angel_heart.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332746038281636482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terrance said he needed to think and would call Angel back.  The next thing she knew, her mother came into her room and told her that Terrance and his parents were on their way over to discuss the pregnancy.  Angel wasnt sure what needed to be discussed.  She had no intention of letting some doctor suck her childs life out of her body.  Abortion was not something she could do.  Shed never judged the people she knew who had them, it just wasnt for her.  All she could do was try to convince these people to allow her to carry the life that was growing inside of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Terrance and his parents arrived, he wouldnt even look at Angel.  She grabbed his arm and tried to look into his eyes, but he walked away.  They all sat in the living room talking about Angels body like she wasnt there.  Her mother informed everyone that the abortion would take place two days after graduation and they could all move along with their lives.  She also informed them that Angel would no longer be allowed to date Terrance.  Their relationship was over.  Terrances still didnt say a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terrances parents made it clear that he was going to Columbia and nothing was going to stop that.  This was not the time for him to become a father.  His mother even said she was not going to allow Angel to ruin her sons chances of having a good future.  That statement shocked Angel.  She didnt exactly make the baby by herself and she had been accepted to Columbia too.  Why was all of the blame being placed at her feet.  You would think her mother would have said something in her defense, but she only nodded her head in agreement.  It was the straw that broke the camels back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angel couldnt take it.  She stood in front of them all and told them that she refused to kill her child and there was nothing any of them could do to make her change her mind.  She looked at Terrance, with pleading eyes, hoping he would back her up but once again he didnt say a word.  To Angels surprise, her mother jumped up and smacked her so hard that she fell to the floor.  She got up and ran to her room, not having the slightest idea what her next step would be.  Shed never felt so alone.  Her mother always told her they could get through any situation together and Terrance said he would always have her back.  They both lied.  All Angel could do was cry herself to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing Angel did when she woke up the next morning was call Terrance.  His mother answered the phone and told her not to call their home anymore.  She said they were paying for half of the abortion and there was no need for any further communication and hung up.  The entire situation was blowing Angels mind.  She had no idea what to do.  The only thing she could come up with was to call her father and see if he would let her come and live with him and his family.  That didnt work out.  His wife said she didnt want a pregnant teenager around her little girls because it would be a bad influence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days continued to go by and Angel was running out of time and not coming up with any ideas.  She never heard from Terrance or her father and her mother was getting meaner by the minute.  It felt like she was living in hell.  She knew she was not going to have the abortion and decided to make an attempt at talking to her mother.  Things didnt work out at all.  Her mother would not listen and they ended up screaming at one another.  When the argument ended, Angels mother went into her room, packed some of her clothes, and told her if she was so set on keeping her baby she had to leave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she walked down the street pulling her suitcase, Angel remembered a woman named Karen who spoke at one of her school assemblies.  Karen was once a teenage mother and she started a program to help young mothers.  Luckily, Angel remembered the address of the church next door to Karens headquarters.  It was a long walk, but she made it there before they closed and was able to speak to someone.  The next phase of her life began at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Terrance was preparing for college, Angel was preparing for motherhood.  She was began living at Second Chance which was the home for teenage mothers Karen founded.  She lived in a brownstone with other girls who, for one reason or another, had nowhere to go.  Some of them came from abusive homes, others were escaping drug addicted parents.  There were many different reasons some of the girls had for living there.  Angel never thought she would end up living in such a place but she did not complain because she was willing to do anything to get herself ready for motherhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time in her life, Angel was making friends.  The girls shared a common bond and did their best to care for one another.  They were like a family.  Shed been away from home for four months when, with the urging of some of the girls, she decided to call her parents and let them know she was okay.  Her father didnt even know she was missing and her mother only wanted to know if she was still carrying the bastard.  She tried to contact Terrance but his parents refused to give her any information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angels heart was broken, but she decided to use her parents and Terrances lack of concern as motivation.  She was hired as a receptionist at the Second Chance headquarters and saved as much money as she could.  She also spoke to a therapist once a week who did what he could to help her deal with her feelings of abandonment.  Her daydreams changed and Angel thought a lot about how lucky she was to find Second Chance.  She knew there were many girls who werent as fortunate.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pregnancy progressed and Angel became best friends with her child.  She relished every movement and kick and never took the responsibility of bringing a life into the world for granted.  Karen began to look to her as a leader and someone the other girls looked up to and Angel did everything she could to be a good example.  She tutored girls studying for their GED and was the person everyone went to for advice.  It was hard for her to believe how the shy girl who was scared of the world left her body and a focused and determined one entered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a snowy day in January when Angel went into labor.  Her water broke and the house mother drove her to the hospital and stayed with her.  Angel wondered what it would have been like if her childs father actually cared about what was happening.  She was lying in a hospital bed writhing in pain while he was probably somewhere enjoying his winter break.  It wasnt fair, but Angel decided that dwelling on the past would only impede her future.  She let go and put everything in the Lords hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 15 hours of labor, Angel gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.  She named her Faith.  The road was rough and Angel didnt know where it was going to lead, but was willing to do what she had to do to make sure her daughter had the life she deserved.  When the nurse laid her child on her chest Angel began to cry.  Faith laid on Angels heart and mother and daughter looked into each others eyes.  Angels spirit filled with strength.  She knew it wasn't going to be easy but they were in this together and some way, somehow, things were going to be alright.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-8015176445272571766?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/8015176445272571766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=8015176445272571766&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8015176445272571766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8015176445272571766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/05/angels-heart-part-2.html' title='Angel&apos;s Heart Part 2'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgG4RIkmCoI/AAAAAAAAAUA/tTuaw40ZQKs/s72-c/angel_heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3758655222893512117</id><published>2009-05-06T12:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T12:08:07.887-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='short story'/><title type='text'>Angel's Heart Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgG141zEcNI/AAAAAAAAAT4/PROHvNL8S94/s1600-h/heart_wings%2520blue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgG141zEcNI/AAAAAAAAAT4/PROHvNL8S94/s320/heart_wings%2520blue.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332743421901959378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angels Heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angel was always a loner, sometimes by choice and other times by circumstance.  Being in high school was an awkward time for her.  Although she appreciated her time alone she longed to be more social and have more friends.  It was hard for her to find a happy medium between the two because she was extremely shy.   She would have loved to do the things all of her classmates were doing, but she could never find a way to communicate with her peers. Instead of making friends she would retreat into her head and daydream about the life she wished she had.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of that changed when Angel met a boy named Terrance and fell in love.  They were instantly inseparable and no one and nothing could keep them from spending time together.  All they could think of was each other and the life they would have after they graduated from high school.  It was all planned.  Angel and Terrance applied to all the same colleges and became secretly engaged.  They knew their parents would not be in love with the thought of them getting married so they kept it to themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no doubt in Angels mind that Terrance was the love of her life.  They shared everything and, as her 18th birthday approached, she decided that she wanted to give him one of her most prized possessions, her virginity.  So, on the anniversary of her birth, Angel made love with Terrance for the first time.  She was scared, but he was very gentle and made it one of the best experiences of her young life and Angel felt like she had officially become a woman.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next few months were very busy.  Senior year activities and preparation took up most of Angels time, but she made sure she never neglected Terrance.  He was her first priority.  They continued to be together as often as possible, and have sex whenever they could.  Being together in that way added another element of closeness to their relationship.  Angel felt like she was sharing her soul with the person she loved and nothing else in the world could be more beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Graduation was approaching and Angel was extremely excited.  Both her and Terrance had received their acceptance letters to Columbia University and would be moving to New York.  Thoughts of living in the Big Apple made Angel both thrilled and nervous.  She became so nervous at times that her stomach did flips and made her nauseous.  At times she even found herself throwing up.  Its scary when you realize your life is about to take a huge turn.  Angel wasnt sure what the future would bring, but she was glad Terrance would be with her so they could go through all the new experiences together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple weeks before graduation, Angel and her mother went to their favorite boutique to buy her an outfit.  They were both surprised when they realized she had gone up a size and needed an eight instead of a six.  It took a little longer than usual, but they found something nice.  On the ride home, Angels mother asked her if everything was okay.  She wasnt sure why she would ask her something like that and told her she was doing great and just wanted graduation to come so she could get it over with.  She was exhausted all the time and it was making her so nervous that she could barely eat.  For that reason she couldnt understand how her clothes size could have possibly increased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angels mother took her to the doctor to get a physical a few days after they went shopping.  The doctor asked her a few questions and there was one in particular that stumped her.  When the doctor asked, When was your last period, Angel had no answer.  Shed been so busy studying for finals and getting ready for graduation that she didnt notice that she hadnt menstruated in a couple months.  Once she told the doctor she was sexually active, he suggested Angel take a pregnancy test.  The thought of being pregnant hadnt entered her mind until that very moment.  It would explain the exhaustion, weight gain, and loss of appetite, but Angel knew something like that would never happen to her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, Angel was wrong.  The doctor came into the office and handed her the positive result of her pregnancy test.  She was in shock.  Her mind began to spin in a thousand different directions and she felt faint.  The doctor asked if shed like him to get her mother and she said yes.  Angels mother came into the room and the doctor told her she was pregnant.  She looked at Angel in disgust and said, How could you?  Angel was taken aback.  She knew her mother would be disappointed, but she never thought she would react that way.  The next words out of her mothers mouth, Make an appointment for the abortion, sent Angel into a tailspin.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The appointment was made and no one took the time to ask Angel what she wanted.  Her mother grabbed her arm and they walked out to the car.  She was berated all the way home.  Her mother called her stupid and said she was an embarrassment.  Her main concern was what people would think if she allowed Angel to have her, bastard.  Angel never said a word she just listened to her mother scream.  All she could think about was getting home so she could call Terrance.  If anyone was going to be there for her it would be him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angel ran to her room and grabbed the telephone as soon as she got home.  As soon as Terrance answered the phone she said, Im pregnant.  There was a long pause, a pause so long that it scared the hell out of Angel.  Why wasnt he saying anything?  She decided to break the silence and told Terrance that her mother was trying to make her have an abortion.  He still didnt respond.  She had to yell at him to say something before he would speak and, Maybe shes right, was what he came up with.  Angel was in shock once again.  She couldnt understand why no one was responding the way she expected.  There was no way anyone would have been able to convince her that Terrance would want to kill the child they made together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3758655222893512117?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3758655222893512117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3758655222893512117&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3758655222893512117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3758655222893512117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/05/angels-heart-part-1.html' title='Angel&apos;s Heart Part 1'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SgG141zEcNI/AAAAAAAAAT4/PROHvNL8S94/s72-c/heart_wings%2520blue.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6744729298594197843</id><published>2009-05-04T17:51:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T18:16:51.431-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Negative Energy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sf9lUlC5NUI/AAAAAAAAATo/Rc156JULK2c/s1600-h/sad-face-main_Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sf9lUlC5NUI/AAAAAAAAATo/Rc156JULK2c/s320/sad-face-main_Full.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332091888045995330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is negative energy?  Can you feel it?  What does it do to you? I have definitely been around some in my time.  I sit in the midst of it for about six hours every week day.  Miserable people who don't have lives outside of work bring all of their negativity to the job with them and it steams itself off of their souls and into the atmosphere.  It brings down the spirit of those around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing i've been working really hard on is keeping a positive frame of mind and not letting what I may be going through affect others.  I wear my heart on my sleeve so it's not hard to tell when i'm not in a good mood.  It shows and I can't control it.  I know someone who is a professional at smiling when she's crying inside.  She doesn't want to bring others down, so she keeps her energy up and remains the life of the party.  Basically, she cries those tears of a clown.  I'm not sure how healthy that is, but it seems to work for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually when i'm going through something I try not to be around too many people until I figure out how to come up out of my funk.  That's not always an easy thing to do because life goes on no matter what.  Work still has to be done, bills still have to be paid, and so on.  I guess that's a good thing.  If all I had to do was sit around and think i'd be a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing much better.  A recent situation that would have put me in a funk rolled off of my emotions and I held my head.  I kept a positive outlook and it didn't affect me.  Yes, I thought about it but I didn't think it into the ground like I have in the past.  I'm proud of myself.  It shows me that i'm growing.  The changes i've been trying to make are actually manifesting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negativity is a powerful thing.  I'm not as stressed out as I was once because i'm actually learning how to see the glass as half full.  It's not always empty like I once thought.  This is one time when the grass actually is greener on the other side.  Changing your thought process does a lot for your quality of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sf9nqrHchJI/AAAAAAAAATw/kmSAVxH1PIw/s1600-h/wine-glass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sf9nqrHchJI/AAAAAAAAATw/kmSAVxH1PIw/s320/wine-glass.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332094466656076946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever something would happen that upset me and I talked to my husband about it he would tell me to think positive and it would piss me off.  It wasn't what I wanted to hear.  I always made sure I was prepared for the worst because that way I wouldn't be disappointed.  I thought that was the practical way of thinking. I'm learning that was not true at all.  It actually feels good to have faith that i'll have a positive outcome.  The universe gives what it gets.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is so new to me.  Who knew?  Life is much better when you actually give it a chance to be.  It's not necessary to be cautious all the time.  Sometimes you have to let go and give positive energy to the world and to yourself.  Like the saying goes, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6744729298594197843?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6744729298594197843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6744729298594197843&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6744729298594197843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6744729298594197843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/05/negative-energy.html' title='Negative Energy'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/Sf9lUlC5NUI/AAAAAAAAATo/Rc156JULK2c/s72-c/sad-face-main_Full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6495482503355943011</id><published>2009-04-30T12:11:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T12:51:04.569-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SfnSk4XGUCI/AAAAAAAAATg/4ikYpnD4tXU/s1600-h/failure-300x300.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SfnSk4XGUCI/AAAAAAAAATg/4ikYpnD4tXU/s320/failure-300x300.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330523165016084514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite bloggers, &lt;a href="http://www.afreespiritbutterfly.blogspot.com"&gt;A Free Spirit Butterfly&lt;/a&gt;, had a haiku contest a few weeks ago.  I was lucky enough to be one of the winners.  As a prize I was sent a box of goodies.  I love getting gifts!  It was fun opening the box because I kept pulling things out.  She sent me a journal, photo album, refrigerator magnet, aromatherapy shower gel, notecards, and a plaque that I hung in my bathroom.  The plaque said, "What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking about that question today and asked a couple of people.  They both said they would rob a bank.  I had to laugh.  When I first saw the question my answer was easy and immediate.  I didn't even think about money.  I thought about my passion.  I would love to quit my "job" and write books for a living.  It's a dream that i've had for some time.  Those who go out on limbs and dive into what they want to do without worrying about bills and such really impress me. Oh, how I wish I could take that leap.  The thing is, i'm all about security.  It relieves me to know that my bills are paid.  My mind needs to be at ease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past I would start writing books and short stories and never finish.  I'd be into it for a little while and just stop writing out of the blue.  All of my old notebooks are in storage.  I don't really read through them, but I will never throw them away.  They're an important part of my journey.  The book I wrote would not have been possible without all of the test runs.  When I started writing this time I was determined to finish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved the time I spent writing my book.  I carried my spiral notebooks with me everywhere and wrote whenever I had the chance.  It was a wonderful experience.  I felt like a writer.  I've always known that I was born to put pen to paper, but I &lt;em&gt;FELT&lt;/em&gt; it more than ever while writing this book.  My adrenaline flowed every time my pen touched those pages.  I can only imagine how happy I would be if it was my career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what happens as far as sales go, I am already successful.  I wrote a book and nothing can change that.  If I sell one or one million copies, I accomplished something and it feels so good.  It's wonderful to know what that thing is that makes you happy, that thing that makes you feel complete.  I know that I was put on this earth to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I think about that question again, I may have to change my answer because as long as i'm writing I can never fail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6495482503355943011?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6495482503355943011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6495482503355943011&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6495482503355943011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6495482503355943011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-of-my-favorite-bloggers-had-haiku.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SfnSk4XGUCI/AAAAAAAAATg/4ikYpnD4tXU/s72-c/failure-300x300.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4179275788494903570</id><published>2009-04-26T17:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T19:01:19.768-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Eggshells</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SfTnumbwm0I/AAAAAAAAATY/IqE66JL-zTQ/s1600-h/culs026378.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 112px; height: 168px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SfTnumbwm0I/AAAAAAAAATY/IqE66JL-zTQ/s320/culs026378.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329139046863117122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot stand when someone in my house cooks eggs and puts the shells back in the carton.  This morning I was fixing breakfast and pulled one out of the refrigerator that contained two eggs and ten egg carcasses.  Even though we had two more cartons of eggs in the fridge, I was still pissed off.  What is the purpose of leaving the shells in the carton?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the eggshells made me think.  It seems like everything makes me think lately.  I'm at a point in my life where I don't take anything at face value.  Even eggshells in a carton have meaning.  I stood at the counter looking at the shells and starting thinking about how they applied to my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when I held everything in.  Things would bother me, but I would either internalize them or speak on them in an incomplete manner, like eggshells in a carton.  The issue would just lay there until eventually i'd decide to face the situation and get rid of it.  I was like that for a long time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My issues stayed closed up in my carton of emotions.  The thing is, they can't stay like that forever.  It took me a long time to realize that.  I was so busy worrying about hurting people's feelings that I didn't stop to think about all the empty shells I was leaving in my carton.  There were also times when I just didn't want to deal.  The problem is, when you don't get things off your chest they build up and become worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have my moments, but i've really been trying to deal with things that bother me better than I have in the past.  When I was approaching 40, I went into this phase where I didn't give a damn what anyone thought.  I went a little too far.  As i'm learning more about the after 40 me i've learned to reign it in without holding on to things that I shouldn't.  I feel much better.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends said they felt different when they reached 40 but I wasn't sure if I would be affected.  Not only was I affected, i'm infected.  The changes are flowing through my blood.  I'm a new and improved me and I like it.  I've realized that I will always be a work in progress.  Things are constantly changing and I am really enjoying life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so open that eggshells in a carton lead to thoughts about life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4179275788494903570?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4179275788494903570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4179275788494903570&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4179275788494903570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4179275788494903570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/eggshells.html' title='Eggshells'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SfTnumbwm0I/AAAAAAAAATY/IqE66JL-zTQ/s72-c/culs026378.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5771622482924929106</id><published>2009-04-20T08:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T08:37:41.168-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bounce Back</title><content type='html'>My New York Yankees lost 24-4 to the Cleveland Indians Saturday.  The Indians scored 14 runs in one inning.  I've never seen anything like it.  I went to a party later that night and everyone was talking about it.  It was like we needed to console one another.  Yankee fans take their baseball to heart.  We had our group session and were able to move on with our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Yankees had to turn around and get back on the field the next day.  They had to face the same team that beat the hell out of them the day before.  My boys took that field, did their job, and came out on top and beat the Indians 7-4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something came to me as I watched the game.  Life tests us and hits us with road blocks all the time.  There are times when one may feel life beat the hell out of them the way the Indians did the Yankees.  What do we do when that happens?  Do we make ourselves the victim and wonder why?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say it's all about figuring out how to bounce back.  It's not easy and I can't say it's what I always do, but i'm trying.  Watching that game really had me thinking.  It's so much easier to let he hard times get you down.  I've been there and done that.  It's time to try something new.  I don't feel sorry for myself and close myself up in a shell when life gets tough anymore.  I back up, face the situation, figure out a solution, and move on.  Life is too short to waste time overthinking and dwelling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's always a great feeling when you overcome a tough situation.  I've had things happen, especially at work, that would have sent me off in the past.  Thanks to a lot of soul searching and attitude changing, I have remained calm and not allowed the issues of others to become mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to deal with life like my Yankees dealt with losing so badly.  I'm going to woman up and get back on the field.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5771622482924929106?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5771622482924929106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5771622482924929106&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5771622482924929106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5771622482924929106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/bounce-back.html' title='Bounce Back'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4801590568407864763</id><published>2009-04-13T11:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T15:53:43.029-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='April National Poetry Month'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SeNjXWTe5mI/AAAAAAAAATI/krO9u-hXedw/s1600-h/npm_2008_poster_550.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SeNjXWTe5mI/AAAAAAAAATI/krO9u-hXedw/s320/npm_2008_poster_550.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324208437257496162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my contribution to National Poetry Month:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back and forth&lt;br /&gt;Up and down&lt;br /&gt;Left and right&lt;br /&gt;I've looked at my life from every angle&lt;br /&gt;I'm searching&lt;br /&gt;Still trying to figure out &lt;br /&gt;Where I belong in this world&lt;br /&gt;Thought i'd know by now&lt;br /&gt;But it turns out&lt;br /&gt;Life is a never ending spiral&lt;br /&gt;Of learning&lt;br /&gt;And growing&lt;br /&gt;Changing&lt;br /&gt;And evolving&lt;br /&gt;Spiraling&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes out of control&lt;br /&gt;Finding oneself&lt;br /&gt;Is an infinite quest&lt;br /&gt;For knowledge&lt;br /&gt;And understanding&lt;br /&gt;That never ends&lt;br /&gt;I've been looking for a while now&lt;br /&gt;And just when I think &lt;br /&gt;There she is&lt;br /&gt;Something changes&lt;br /&gt;And rearranges&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts&lt;br /&gt;I have hope&lt;br /&gt;For my future&lt;br /&gt;Now that I know&lt;br /&gt;That the search for self knowledge&lt;br /&gt;Will never end&lt;br /&gt;I'm me&lt;br /&gt;And will always be&lt;br /&gt;But i've learned&lt;br /&gt;To accept the changes&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are open&lt;br /&gt;And I feel free&lt;br /&gt;To love me&lt;br /&gt;And all of my faults&lt;br /&gt;And inadequacies&lt;br /&gt;I am who I am&lt;br /&gt;And that's enough&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4801590568407864763?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4801590568407864763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4801590568407864763&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4801590568407864763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4801590568407864763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/here-is-my-contribution-to-national.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SeNjXWTe5mI/AAAAAAAAATI/krO9u-hXedw/s72-c/npm_2008_poster_550.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2260614127068014350</id><published>2009-04-11T09:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T09:57:20.142-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='athletes rappers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gangstas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='niggas'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SeChusvDKhI/AAAAAAAAATA/l6AyPPGEgQk/s1600-h/black-friend9.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SeChusvDKhI/AAAAAAAAATA/l6AyPPGEgQk/s320/black-friend9.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323432583206480402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever met someone and wondered whether they were racist or just plain stupid?  My husband and I went to happy hour after work yesterday to chill out and have a few drinks.  There was a guy sitting at the bar alone and we took the two seats next to him.  I could tell he was a talker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we order our drinks and he immediately starts up a conversation.  It was going okay and then he started talking about selfish athletes that keep getting into trouble and how the "poor kids" who are looking up to them suffer.  He said "those kids" suffer enough and they don't need their heroes letting them down. He considered their heroes to be rappers and athletes and thought it was disgusting how they all wanted to be "gangsta."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him that white kids buy way more rap music than black kids and they definitely bought into the "gangsta" image even though they probably have all the advantages that you'd think would lead them to knowing better.  I also let him know that every black child does not want to be a "gangsta" or professional athlete and black people do raise their children.  I was too amused with him to be pissed off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He shuts up and the conversation goes to the terrible New York Knicks.  We talked about the Knicks of old and how we knew their time had come and gone.  He looks at my husband and says "You know what we call the Knicks?"  He touches his arm and says, "Don't be offended."  Now, whenever someone says that you know they're about to say something offensive.  I braced myself and looked at my husband.  Before he told us his Knickname, he asked that no offense be taken again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I heard was Niggas blah, blah, blah.  I didn't hear the rest of what he said.  It was as if time stood still.  I immediately looked at my husband's hands to see if they had formed fists.  My husband is not one to ask questions or start a debate over a situation.  He will just bust your ass.  He was surprisingly calm.  Even though I was heated, I bounced off of his calmness and looked at the guy like he was an idiot.  From that moment on, he no longer existed. I must say I was very proud of my husband for not knocking him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He continued to try and hold a conversation with us. I basically either ignored him or looked at him like he was stupid.  My husband actually talked to him.  I was amazed.  He started talking about "this black guy" he was friends with that my husband reminded him of.  The guy was big and muscular like my husband and he used to "gang bang," but he turned his life around and became an evangelist.  He thought it was funny that this big guy was preaching.  My husband told him he should attend some of his services because he obviously had a lot to learn.  He laughed, but my husband looked at him with the most serious, scary, face that he got up and went outside.  He didn't know how lucky he was.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't really talk about him when he left.  He wasn't worth the words.  It was more important to enjoy each other's company.  That was the reason we were there.  We'd both had a tiring week and wanted to unwind.  He came back and tried to talk to us, but eventually realized that the moment had passed. He said something about hoping we weren't offended by what he said because he didn't mean any harm. I told him he should think about what he says before speaking because he could get himself hurt one day.  My husband gave him another deadly stare, I turned my head and watched the Yankee game, and he left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eventually asked my husband how he felt about what happened and he said it was clear from some of the things he said that he was use to being around black people who let him say whatever he wanted.  He didn't necessarily think he was racist as much as he was ignorant.  I'm still not sure.  I was just glad he left, even though he wasn't ready to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fellow bloggers, what do you think?  Racist?  Stupid?  Ignorant? A combination of them all?  I'd love to get your opinions on this one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2260614127068014350?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2260614127068014350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2260614127068014350&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2260614127068014350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2260614127068014350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/have-you-ever-met-someone-and-wondered.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SeChusvDKhI/AAAAAAAAATA/l6AyPPGEgQk/s72-c/black-friend9.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2742346849570229157</id><published>2009-04-09T22:54:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T23:24:57.108-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Blog Killa</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking a lot about this and that lately and trying to figure things out.  My life hasn't been perfect by any means.  I have been through some things, and i'm sure put people through things.  No one is perfect, at least I know i'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I have changed and still have a lot of growing to do.  I decided to look back through my old posts to see if the growth showed in my words.  As I was reading through, I came across a few anonymous comments from someone who named themselves, "Blog Killa."  After a little bit of consideration, i'm pretty sure I figured out who it was.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started this blog as a means of self expression.  I know that I am not always the easiest person to get along with.  I'm aware of the fact that most people cannot handle certain parts of my personality that may not be all sunshine and light.  I get that, I own that, and i'm fine with that.  What I am not fine with is someone making negative comments on my blog anonymously. I cannot stand that.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have things that we need to work through.  I don't know anyone who was raised in a perfect home, lived in a perfect neighborhood, went to the perfect schools, and had the perfect parents.  I guess those people exist, but I don't know any of them.  We do the best we can with the tools we are given and live our lives to the best of our abilities.  Hopefully, we learn from the mistakes of those who came before us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've noticed that all the soul searching I have been doing has opened my eyes to a lot of things, but closed my heart as well.  I'm beginning to see a lot of people, places, and things for what they are.  Sometimes the things I see hurt my feelings, other times they make me angry, and there are times when they make me stronger. I'm trying to learn how to work through all the emotions I find myself going through and it's not very easy, but then again life isn't easy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The learning never ends.  Sometimes you do the best you can and think you did a pretty good job and find out that you were totally wrong.  Then again, there are times when you think you did terribly and find out it was just the opposite.  You never know.  You can't be all things to all people.  I guess the only thing you can do is be true to yourself.  I've had a hard time with that in the past because I felt like I didn't know who my true self was.  I'm getting there, but i'm still searching for all that is me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogging is so crazy.  I intended this post to go in one direction and it seems to have taken off in another.  It's all good.  These are my thoughts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, you're in my prayers "Blog Killa." Maybe the day will come when you are able to work up the courage not to be anonymous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2742346849570229157?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2742346849570229157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2742346849570229157&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2742346849570229157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2742346849570229157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/ode-to-blog-killa.html' title='Ode to Blog Killa'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1568125706403332004</id><published>2009-04-06T08:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T11:31:21.944-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inherited creativity'/><title type='text'>I Get it From My Daddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdoeLatbu3I/AAAAAAAAAS4/xAJ4VyGnEsY/s1600-h/RICHC_2043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdoeLatbu3I/AAAAAAAAAS4/xAJ4VyGnEsY/s320/RICHC_2043.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321599091188939634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to my friend this morning and came to a realization of something that was long forgotten.  One of our co-workers recently lost her mother and we were talking about how down she looks.  I definitely understand how she is feeling.  When my father passed, it felt like I would never be whole again because a very important piece of me was lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were sharing stories of loss when I realized something that I can't believe I never thought of before.  I get my love of writing from my father.  He was a very creative person.  He moved to Schenectady, New York in the late eighties and decided to go back to school and major in photography.  Once that camera was in his hand, he turned into another person.  He would take so many pictures when he visited that we would all start to complain. The finished product would always change our minds. He took some great pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father would also cut out photos of people he admired, research their lives and make photo albums.  They were amazing. I learned a lot about our people looking through those books.  I would always tease him because he was so militant, but it was actually one of the things I loved most about him.  I would love to hear what he thinks about the state of the world we live in today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His spirit was so creative.  I am the writer I am today because his blood runs through my veins.  He taught me so much. I stopped looking at his photo albums.  It hurt too much.  My dad was one of the smartest people I have ever met, but he had issues that kept him from realizing his potential.  It's no big deal.  We all have our stuff.  I just seem to find myself wondering what if.  Even though I know what he could have been, I am still extremely proud of the person he was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a day goes by that I don't see something on the news, or debate a topic with someone, and wonder what my father would have to say.  He was a Knick fan and I know he would be so upset to see what has become of the team.  He would be livid.  I can hear him screaming and see the look of disgust on his face. He took his sports very seriously. That's why i'm such a sport fanatic.  We would stay on the phone for hours talking about the NFL, NBA, MLB, and any other initial we could think of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really miss my father.  He's been gone for ten years.  I feel his presence all the time. We still talk.  The conversation may seem one-sided, but I know he's responding.  He still helps me make life decisions.  When i'm stuck at a crossroad and feel unsure, I wonder what my father would tell me.  I try to figure out what his advice would be, or what decision would make him proud.  I guess i'll always be a daddy's girl.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when people are shocked that a woman knows so much about sports, or someone is complimenting me on something I have written, I'll thank them and say, "I get it from my daddy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1568125706403332004?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1568125706403332004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1568125706403332004&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1568125706403332004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1568125706403332004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-get-it-from-my-daddy.html' title='I Get it From My Daddy'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdoeLatbu3I/AAAAAAAAAS4/xAJ4VyGnEsY/s72-c/RICHC_2043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6116440239502178804</id><published>2009-04-03T14:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T14:42:33.840-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn Yankees!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdZXjANGxGI/AAAAAAAAASw/0AIziD3Pv8E/s1600-h/new-era-59fifty-fitted-baseball-cap-new-york-yankees-hologram.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdZXjANGxGI/AAAAAAAAASw/0AIziD3Pv8E/s320/new-era-59fifty-fitted-baseball-cap-new-york-yankees-hologram.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320536268646827106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it's a rainy day in New York.  I'm sitting at my desk looking out the window and feeling sleepy.  This is a day to be at home watching a movie or writing a good book.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually like rainy days.  The problem with this one is it ruined my plans.  I was suppose to go to the Yankee game.  This was not a day for rain.  The tickets were free.  A friend of my husband's invited us.  With the way the tickets prices have skyrocketed i'm not sure i'll be going to any games.  I love the Yankees but I don't want to spend an arm and a leg to see them play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really disappointed in the lack of thought for people who can't afford season tickets or hundreds of dollars to take their family to see the Yankees.  I'm hurt because I know that so many young people will not be able to have memories like mine.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father and I went to Yankee games on a regular basis. That is where my love of sports was cultivated.  My parents were divorced and this was time with my father that I cherished.  It was our thing.  We always had good seats and a lot of fun.  I'm 41 years old and thinking of those times makes me smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son will be working at the stadium. When he told me about the job, the first thing I thought of was discounts.  You know how we do, always looking for the hook up.  He seems to be really excited about it.  He shares his mother's love of the Yankees.  We watch games together and have in-depth discussions about the team all the time.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new Yankee stadium does not seem to have been built for the average fan and that makes me sad.  The people we were suppose to go with aren't even all that interested in the game. They want to walk around and see what the stadium looks like.  Are they crazy?  It's the Yankees.  If i'm in Yankee Stadium i'm there because I want to watch a baseball game.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father is no longer here and there are times when I sit and think of him and the days we spent together at Yankee Stadium.  A new era may be rolling in, but my memories will last forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6116440239502178804?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6116440239502178804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6116440239502178804&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6116440239502178804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6116440239502178804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/04/damn-yankees.html' title='Damn Yankees!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdZXjANGxGI/AAAAAAAAASw/0AIziD3Pv8E/s72-c/new-era-59fifty-fitted-baseball-cap-new-york-yankees-hologram.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3241125781576331022</id><published>2009-03-30T18:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T19:06:42.038-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdFPS-xD8FI/AAAAAAAAASg/2wYqOzrBRlE/s1600-h/just_shy_square_0.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdFPS-xD8FI/AAAAAAAAASg/2wYqOzrBRlE/s320/just_shy_square_0.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319119822406283346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of shy.  I've been this way for as long as I can remember.  It's not easy for me to be instantly comfortable in certain situations.  I have to sit back and see what's going on.  I don't warm up to people immediately.  There are times when people assume that I am anti-social or stuck up because of this.  That really doesn't matter to me because those are probably people I won't miss getting to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very selective with who I let into my world.  I've always been that way.  It's the way i'm made.  I'm not the type of person who will sit down with someone I just met and tell them my life story.  I actually cannot stand when people do that.  I was on the elevator the other day and before the woman who was riding up with me got to her floor, I knew what her job was, how much she made, how much her tax refund was, and how she knew she should have cheated on her taxes like she usually does because she was honest and didn't get anything back.  I just smiled.  She didn't know me from Eve.  Why was she telling me all of her business?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've often gone back and forth trying to decide if I should change my ways.  I don't have a lot of friends, but the ones I do have are of high quality.  I've never been one who had to be a social butterfly.  I actually prefer being alone.  I like to spend time with my family and go out with my husband.  There just always seems to be something crazy, fake, or annoying going on that I don't want to deal with.  That's just how I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I a loner?  In a lot of ways I am.  I think it's part of my writer's spirit.  I'd rather get lost in words than just about anything else.  I don't have time to mess around with people's bull.  I've been that way for years.  Over those years, I have encountered a lot of hate because I choose to stay to myself.  I guess it bothers people.  Folks are always confused by things they don't understand, and that confusion leads to them trying to attach a label.  I've been given many labels, and they don't usually fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always hear, "I didn't think you were so cool," or "You're nothing like I thought you would be."  I just laugh.  The only way anyone would know how I really am is if I choose it to be.  Am I wrong for that? Don't get me wrong.  I know how to have a good time.  People enjoy my company once they get to know me.  I'm just selective with who I let in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is, there are people who would be shocked to hear me say that I am shy.  I have a crazy sense of humor and I know i'm fun to be around.  I love to laugh and have a good time.  Some people have never seen the other side of me.  I guess that's because I chose to let them in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess i'm misunderstood in a lot of ways.  The thing is, I don't think I care.  I've heard things said about me by people who know nothing about me.  They've passed judgment on who I am or what i'm about with absolutely nothing to back their statements up.  I didn't get angry; I moved on.  They were simply not people I needed to know.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who matter know the real me.  They know the intelligent, thoughtful, crazy, brash, sensitive, lovable me.  Those are the people I care about.  I'm not sure if I want to let anyone else into my circle.  Recently someone told me I should always be open to making new friends.  I told them I wasn't against making new friends, I just wasn't searching for any.  That's my choice.  I'd rather leave it up to the universe and see what happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3241125781576331022?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3241125781576331022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3241125781576331022&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3241125781576331022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3241125781576331022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-kind-of-shy.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SdFPS-xD8FI/AAAAAAAAASg/2wYqOzrBRlE/s72-c/just_shy_square_0.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5576819685919590590</id><published>2009-03-24T07:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T08:33:30.378-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ScjTFtfYBII/AAAAAAAAASY/ZQSYQBUphyk/s1600-h/Thinking.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ScjTFtfYBII/AAAAAAAAASY/ZQSYQBUphyk/s320/Thinking.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316731455174870146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few of Tammy's thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it necessary to look at someone after you step on their foot or bump into them when you know you're not going to say excuse me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you watch something you don't really have much interest in if you can't find your remote?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How hard is it to wipe off the toilet seat?  I hate it when I got to use the bathroom and the seat is wet.  There is nothing nastier than having to wipe off someone else's urine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along the same lines, it's a shame that signs have to be posted in bathrooms telling people to wipe the seat, wash their hands, or not put certain things into the toilet.  Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent my night talking to an old friend who not only cheated on his wife, but had a child with another woman.  She stayed, but he thinks she's cheating now.  Does he have the right to be upset?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should women act like a lady and think like a man like Steve Harvey suggests?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be wonderful to wake up, grab my pen and pad and write all day long.  Working a job I cannot stand is for the birds!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I can't stand my job, I thank God for it each and every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really miss my father.  I know he's watching over me and often wonder if he's proud of the life I live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our tabloid society really upsets me.  Why do I watch TMZ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is chivalry dead?  A pregnant woman got on the bus when I was on my way home yesterday and not one man got up to let her sit down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I out of the loop because I rarely visit my myspace page, don't have a facebook page, and I don't give a damn about twitter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is technology ruining our society?  It's all about this page and that one, Aim, online chatting, and texting.  We hardly ever talk to one another.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit, texting has saved me from having a lot of unnecessary conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when someone calls me and expects me to keep the conversation going.  What the hell did you call me for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's all for now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5576819685919590590?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5576819685919590590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5576819685919590590&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5576819685919590590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5576819685919590590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/03/tuesday-thoughts.html' title='Tuesday Thoughts'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ScjTFtfYBII/AAAAAAAAASY/ZQSYQBUphyk/s72-c/Thinking.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7763689790708676420</id><published>2009-03-19T12:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T12:14:41.579-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Now is Your Moment</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ScJvYjHJeNI/AAAAAAAAASA/8fPYHg4H3wE/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ScJvYjHJeNI/AAAAAAAAASA/8fPYHg4H3wE/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314932977783371986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is now, and now is different&lt;br /&gt;Even though you may have experienced an overwhelming amout of disappointment in the past, the past is over&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps you've failed again and again &lt;br /&gt;Now is different&lt;br /&gt;That was then and this is now&lt;br /&gt;Now you have the opportunity to move forward&lt;br /&gt;Now you can do what you've never been able to do before&lt;br /&gt;Now you can follow through on the things you've been unable or unwilling to do in the past&lt;br /&gt;Now is your moment to live&lt;br /&gt;Now is the time to act&lt;br /&gt;Now is when you can truly make a difference&lt;br /&gt;Stand up, step forward and live!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph Marston&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say this every morning before I leave the house.  It's right on my dresser.  It's the first thing I see when I sit down at my desk at work.  It really means something to me and makes me feel better every time I say it.  I'm ready to claim all the good things that I have not allowed myself to go for in the past.  I've spent a lot of years being scared to take chances and always playing it safe.  I'm slowly, but surely getting over that and realizing that it really is my moment.  It's time for me to reach for the sky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7763689790708676420?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7763689790708676420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7763689790708676420&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7763689790708676420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7763689790708676420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/03/now-is-your-moment.html' title='Now is Your Moment'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ScJvYjHJeNI/AAAAAAAAASA/8fPYHg4H3wE/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1948980449057208253</id><published>2009-03-11T14:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T16:29:11.673-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rihanna and Chris Brown'/><title type='text'>Sad, not funny</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SbgJGS5hPRI/AAAAAAAAARg/wDvFf_rgh7E/s1600-h/domestic_violence.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 269px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SbgJGS5hPRI/AAAAAAAAARg/wDvFf_rgh7E/s320/domestic_violence.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312005764240456978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been watching a lot of television since i've been home recuperating.  Not a day has gone by that I don't see something about Rihanna and Chris Brown.  I think the entire situation is terrible and sad.  The media coverage disgusts me, but we live in a tabloid society so I didn't really expect anything else.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Domestic violence has been an issue for a very long time.  It's crazy how so many specials are popping up since the incident between these two young people occurred.  I have yet to see one that makes me think people care about the many women who suffer through this disgusting existence every day.  They always lead off with a story about the stars and end with a few minutes of information to make it look like the show was all about helping someone when it was really all about the sensationalism of a terrible situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I checked my email this morning three people had sent me "jokes" in reference to Chris Brown.  I found it hard to believe that someone would think that anything about this situation is funny.  There are so many layers that it's hard to get into.  Rihanna and Chris are both victims.  I know most people probably wouldn't agree with that assessment, but I stand by it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rihanna was beaten and is now battered and bruised both physically and emotionally.  It has to be hard to believe that someone you love would hurt you the way she has been hurt.  I'm sure her whole being is going through a tug of war right now.  It's bad enough to go through this, but to have your pain thrown in your face for the world to see has to be extremely hard.  My heart goes out to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris Brown says he watched his mother being abused.  We all know that the experiences of our past are what shape our future.  I'm sure he never thought he would end up in this situation.  I'm not sure he realizes how serious things are for him.  Why would he be out at bars and jet skiing?  I find myself wondering what they people around him are thinking.  When does the counseling his statement claimed he would be getting begin?  I know most people see him as a villan but I find myself feeling sorry for him.  He obviously has a lot of issues he needs to work out.  I guess it's the mother in me.  Chris is only a year older than my son.  I feel like he is a victim of the machismo young men, and especially young black men, feel they must have.  They don't all put their hands on their girlfriends, but people are different.  I really hope he gets help.  Most people just want to throw him away.  I'm not sure what that solves.  He's still young and hopefully his way of thinking can be improved before it's too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said I wasn't going to blog about this issue, but all the coverage has forced me and this is what I do when I have something on my mind.  As I am typing i'm watching another promo for a domestic violence show and the lead in is, you guessed it, Rihanna and Chris.  We all know what happened to them.  If you want to do a show on the subject do it.  There's no need to have their faces plastered all over your promo.  How can they heal if their situation is constantly being thrown in their face?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for the young people of our society.  I think the way of the world has taken such a terrible turn.  This tabloid society we live in disgusts me at times.  I don't want to see between some chicks legs when she gets out of her limo or hear every detail of someone's life just because they're an entertainer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An obviously mentally challenged woman makes a terrible decision and has eight babies to go along with the six she can barely care for and all of a sudden she's fresh meat and they're delving into every aspect of her past.  I pray for those babies.  I can only imagine what our society will be like by the time they're Chris and Rihanna's age.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1948980449057208253?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1948980449057208253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1948980449057208253&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1948980449057208253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1948980449057208253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/03/sad-not-funny.html' title='Sad, not funny'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SbgJGS5hPRI/AAAAAAAAARg/wDvFf_rgh7E/s72-c/domestic_violence.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2523155729706480027</id><published>2009-03-07T17:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T17:19:01.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been out of commission for a little while due to surgery.  I'm still in pain but at least i'm finally able to get around.  I don't really like the idea of not being able to do things.  I'm sure no one does.  My daughter took the day off work to come and get me from the hospital and my husband took the week off and has been taking really good care of me and I appreciate it so much.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned 41 the day I got out of the hospital.  I was in a lot of pain, but my family made me smile. My mother, sister, and niece snuck in with balloons and birthday cake and everyone sang happy birthday to me.  I actually forgot the way I was feeling for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 40th year was definitely one of growth and discovery.  I learned so much about myself and those around me. I'm so thankful for the entire experience.  I'm different, but also the same.  I have recognized the improvements that need to be made within and around me.  I know that I have a lot of work to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's really nothing better than opening your eyes to the world.  I'm ready for whatever will come next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure when I will be blogging next, but I have been waiting for the day when i'd make it to the computer.  I have another week of recovery ahead of me and hopefully i'll feel like blogging again soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care folks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2523155729706480027?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2523155729706480027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2523155729706480027&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2523155729706480027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2523155729706480027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/03/ive-been-out-of-commission-for-little.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-651785791736208419</id><published>2009-02-18T16:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T16:43:45.558-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost There</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZx8mHX9LOI/AAAAAAAAARQ/RNGQTNaUMeA/s1600-h/tunnel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZx8mHX9LOI/AAAAAAAAARQ/RNGQTNaUMeA/s320/tunnel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304251455392001250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost there.  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I just know things are going to be great when I get to it.  I've been doing my best to change the things about myself that I feel have held me back.  Soul searching is not an easy thing to do, but i've been doing a lot of it.  No matter what, I am determined to be the woman I want to be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we all have our faults, but i'm very hard on myself.  For a long time, I felt like I wasn't good enough.  My job wasn't good enough, my looks weren't good enough, my efforts weren't good enough, basically, nothing was good enough.  I always felt like I could be doing better.  I worried about what others thought or how they felt about me so much that it would paralyze me at times. Bit by bit I learned that I am who I am, even when I wasn't satisfied, but I still didn't feel that I was enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I approached the age of 40 I began to soul search like I never had before.  It felt funny and I didn't know why it was happening, but I rolled with it.  I tried to learn from what I was experiencing.  This is when the journey of the woman I am began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned 40 last March and my personality began to change.  I will be 41 soon and I feel like a different person.  My eyes have been opened to so many things.  It almost feels like i'm living in a new, unshackled world.  I have a slip up now and then, but I don't really concentrate on the opinions of others.  This is my life and I have to live it according to what is best for me.  I've always known that I can't please everyone but still tried.  Right now i'm more into my own feelings, thoughts, and emotions first and foremost.  It feels really good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also started writing my book before I turned 40.  I'm still in the editing stages but I feel great about what i've written.  I had a light at the end of the tunnel moment with that too.  There was a time when I wouldn't even think about sharing my writing talent with the world.  Now I can't wait to add my skills to the universe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.  I may not have the job I want or live in the house I want, but I know that all things come in time.  The only place you find success before work is in the dictionary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZyAsh3mOoI/AAAAAAAAARY/uMldq99FokI/s1600-h/tunnel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZyAsh3mOoI/AAAAAAAAARY/uMldq99FokI/s320/tunnel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304255963629763202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-651785791736208419?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/651785791736208419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=651785791736208419&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/651785791736208419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/651785791736208419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/02/almost-there.html' title='Almost There'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZx8mHX9LOI/AAAAAAAAARQ/RNGQTNaUMeA/s72-c/tunnel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1077275033949815250</id><published>2009-02-14T11:46:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T18:05:19.514-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Funny Valentine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZdNf20g2JI/AAAAAAAAARA/1gDAk-_94uI/s1600-h/hearts.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 260px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZdNf20g2JI/AAAAAAAAARA/1gDAk-_94uI/s320/hearts.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302792295939102866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking this time to talk a little bit about the man I married.  I love him, he loves me, we're married.  We've been up, we've been down, we're still married.  He's pushed, i've pulled, we snapped back to the middle and kept it moving.  I was 15, he was 18 and we met.  I was 16, he was 19, we were parents.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband's a complicated man.  He's a stone face with a heart of gold.  People think he's this mean bear of a man when in all actuality he's very kind.  I don't mean to let his secret out but it's true.  He's the type of person you want in your corner.  I'm definitely glad he's in mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've had our moments but the love has always been there.  I've been in love with him since I was 15 years old.  I remember the day we met like it was yesterday.  We were so young.  I never would have thought we'd still be together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to write a long, drawn out post.  That's not our style. I just wanted to shout out the man that I married January 13, 1989.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1077275033949815250?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1077275033949815250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1077275033949815250&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1077275033949815250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1077275033949815250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-funny-valentine.html' title='My Funny Valentine'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SZdNf20g2JI/AAAAAAAAARA/1gDAk-_94uI/s72-c/hearts.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7455833680376993388</id><published>2009-02-10T17:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T08:30:11.352-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Entertainment Thoughts</title><content type='html'>1. Why is it that Britney Spears can get strung out on drugs, beat paparazzi with umbrellas, neglect her children, shave her head, and just go plain crazy and still have a career but Janet Jackson shows one boob and her career is over?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Did Usher mess up his album sales by releasing, "Love in the Club," as his first single?  We all know he's married with a kid.  Who is he screwing in the club?  Grow up man.  The next two singles were so much more mature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. R&amp;B artists really need to get their act together.  I'm feeling British artists like Adele and Leona Lewis.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Country music is the truth.  Their fans do not accept smoke and mirrors and choreography that covers up the fact that someone cannot sing.  You have to be able to do the damned thing to be a country artist.  I'm going to look up some Sugarland songs.  The woman in that group can sing her ass off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Lil Wayne is coming out with a rock album.  I like it.  I'm into anyone who tries to take their music in different directions.  There's nothing worse than artists who rap and sing about the same stuff all the time.  Show some growth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Jazmine Sullivan's, "Lions, and Tigers, and Bears," is my favorite song right now.  I actually love her album.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I heard a song by Mary Mary called, "The God in Me," on the radio the other day and I didn't know it was a gospel song until it got to the chorus.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Jennifer Hudson made me cry when she performed at the Grammy's.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I need a serious Beyonce break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The Oscars are in two weeks.  I'm only watching to see if Taraji P. Henson or Viola Davis wins best supporting actress.  I don't really give a damn about the rest of it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. The whole Chris Brown/Rihanna thing is breaking my heart.  They're so young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I heard about a New Edition concert in New Jersey on the radio the other day.  The only ones performing are Ralph, Bobby, and Johnny.  What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Do people still go to see those Madea movies?  Are they funny or coonish?  What about the Browns?  House of Payne?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Do I feel the same way about Oprah that I use to?  I'm not so sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Is there a difference between rap and hip hop.  I think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Do ladies still love cool James?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Why does 50 dumb himself down?  He's obviously a smart guy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Jay Z and Beyonce, Will and Jada, Angelina and Brad.  Gotta love a good power couple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Speaking of Beyonce, has her career destroyed any chances her sister Solange, Kelly Rowland, and Michelle Williams have of being successful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Movies are coming out on dvd so fast now that it almost makes no sense to go to the theater.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7455833680376993388?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7455833680376993388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7455833680376993388&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7455833680376993388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7455833680376993388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/02/random-entertainment-thoughts.html' title='Random Entertainment Thoughts'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2503840829321358765</id><published>2009-02-07T10:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T10:47:58.618-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maya Angelou&apos;s take on haters'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SY2soCJTyDI/AAAAAAAAAQg/bQo5Yv8Baqc/s1600-h/HatersLoveMeLogo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 195px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SY2soCJTyDI/AAAAAAAAAQg/bQo5Yv8Baqc/s320/HatersLoveMeLogo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300082140255602738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran across something written by Maya Angelou that totally sums up the way i've been feeling lately.  People don't like to see you trying to do things.  That's why you have to brush the dirt off your shoulders and keep it moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, a word from Maya...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H A T E R S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Maya Angelou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A hater is someone who is jealous and envious and spends all their time &lt;br /&gt;trying to make you look small so they can look tall.  They are very &lt;br /&gt;negative&lt;br /&gt;people to say the least. Nothing is ever good enough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you make your mark, you will always attract some haters...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why you have to be careful with whom you share your Blessings and &lt;br /&gt;your dreams, because some folk  can't handle seeing you Blessed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's dangerous to be like somebody else... If GOD wanted you to be like &lt;br /&gt;somebody else, HE would have given you what HE gave them! Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never know what people have gone through to get what they have...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem I have with haters is that they see my glory, but they don't &lt;br /&gt;know my story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, you can rest &lt;br /&gt;assured that the water bill is higher there too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've all got some haters among us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people envy you because you can:&lt;br /&gt;a) Have a relationship with GOD&lt;br /&gt;b) Light up a room when you walk in&lt;br /&gt;c) Start your own business&lt;br /&gt;d) Tell a man/woman to hit the curb&lt;br /&gt;(if he/she isn't about the right thing)&lt;br /&gt;e) Raise your children without both parents being&lt;br /&gt;in the home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haters can't stand to see you happy.  Haters will never want to see you &lt;br /&gt;succeed.  Most of our haters are people who are supposed to be on our &lt;br /&gt;side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you handle your undercover haters?  You can handle these haters &lt;br /&gt;by:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Knowing who you are &amp; who your true friends are&lt;br /&gt;*(VERY IMPORTANT!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Having a purpose to your life: Purpose does not&lt;br /&gt;mean having a job. You can have a job and still be&lt;br /&gt;unfulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A purpose is having a clear sense of what GOD has called you to be.  &lt;br /&gt;Your purpose is not defined by what others think about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. By remembering what you have is by divine&lt;br /&gt;prerogative and not human manipulation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fulfill your dreams! You only have one life to live - when its your time &lt;br /&gt;to leave this earth, you want to be able to say, 'I've lived my life and &lt;br /&gt;fulfilled my dreams, Now I'm ready to go HOME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When GOD gives you favor, you can tell your haters, 'Don't look at &lt;br /&gt;me...Look at who is in charge of me...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget &lt;br /&gt;what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maya Angelou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maya always knows how to say what I feel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2503840829321358765?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2503840829321358765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2503840829321358765&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2503840829321358765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2503840829321358765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-ran-across-something-written-by-maya.html' title=''/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SY2soCJTyDI/AAAAAAAAAQg/bQo5Yv8Baqc/s72-c/HatersLoveMeLogo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7679519972039339542</id><published>2009-02-04T12:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T12:48:37.957-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleeping too long'/><title type='text'>Addicted to the Snooze</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYnSWN2RLLI/AAAAAAAAAQI/3N9ZwXWIDD0/s1600-h/ugly-mug-snooze-button.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 145px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYnSWN2RLLI/AAAAAAAAAQI/3N9ZwXWIDD0/s320/ugly-mug-snooze-button.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298997715694333106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really have to lay off the snooze button.  Every night I set my alarm clock for 5:30 am.  It would be great if I remembered the last time I actually got up at that time.  I hit that damned snooze button a minimum of two times.  This morning I hit it five and got out of bed at 6:00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a shame.  Things would be so much easier for me if I just got up the first time the alarm goes off. I wouldn't have to rush or participate in a race for the shower with my daughter.  She won the race this morning and I ended up getting to work with a minute to spare.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYnUTCNAIsI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/cKfiuxtZshg/s1600-h/clocky4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYnUTCNAIsI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/cKfiuxtZshg/s320/clocky4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298999860052107970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few reasons why i'm a snooze addict.  First of all, I like to sleep.  There are times when nothing else feels better and the sound of that alarm waking me from my unconscious bliss pisses me off.  It's hard for me to close my eyes before midnight and when 5:30 rolls around it feels like I just went to sleep.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't exactly love my job so knowing that i'm getting out of bed because of it doesn't really make me happy.  It doesn't motivate me not to hit that little button on the left side of my alarm.  I know exactly where it is and have it measured just right.  I don't even have to sit up in the bed.  My friend, the snooze button and I have a special relationship.  We speak our own language, no words are needed.  My friend subliminally tells me that i'm not ready to get out of bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried, but I just can't shake the habit.  No matter how much sleep I get the night before, my finger is magnetically drawn to the snooze button in the morning.  It's like I have no control.  My name is Tammy and i'm a snooze button addict.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7679519972039339542?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7679519972039339542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7679519972039339542&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7679519972039339542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7679519972039339542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/02/addicted-to-snooze.html' title='Addicted to the Snooze'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYnSWN2RLLI/AAAAAAAAAQI/3N9ZwXWIDD0/s72-c/ugly-mug-snooze-button.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1506754935687340047</id><published>2009-01-29T17:20:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T13:37:47.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm A Work in Progress</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYSZ0A5ks2I/AAAAAAAAAQA/OX6Yz1gqyPo/s1600-h/work-in-progress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYSZ0A5ks2I/AAAAAAAAAQA/OX6Yz1gqyPo/s320/work-in-progress.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297528180568273762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm changing&lt;br /&gt;I can feel it&lt;br /&gt;I learn something new every day&lt;br /&gt;I'm so open&lt;br /&gt;So ready&lt;br /&gt;To be the woman I need to be&lt;br /&gt;I'm a work in progress&lt;br /&gt;I'm changing&lt;br /&gt;Spinning around in circles&lt;br /&gt;Trying to find the right direction&lt;br /&gt;My mind's like a sponge&lt;br /&gt;The problem is&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes my heart&lt;br /&gt;Feels like an open wound&lt;br /&gt;Every feeling seems to come from there&lt;br /&gt;But it's okay&lt;br /&gt;I'm changing&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are opening&lt;br /&gt;Opening wide&lt;br /&gt;So much is being exposed to me&lt;br /&gt;I'm beginning to see people&lt;br /&gt;For who they really are&lt;br /&gt;And it's not always that pleasant&lt;br /&gt;What do you do&lt;br /&gt;When you're changing&lt;br /&gt;You're a work in progress&lt;br /&gt;And see all the setbacks of life&lt;br /&gt;Setbacks that you don't like&lt;br /&gt;You look at people and wonder&lt;br /&gt;Is this who you've always been?&lt;br /&gt;How did I not know?&lt;br /&gt;Your rose colored glasses removed&lt;br /&gt;You see reality&lt;br /&gt;Damn&lt;br /&gt;What do you do now?&lt;br /&gt;Keep working?&lt;br /&gt;Keep progressing?&lt;br /&gt;Or go back to your old ways?&lt;br /&gt;The ways that put you in a rut&lt;br /&gt;The ways that held you back&lt;br /&gt;Can't do that&lt;br /&gt;Gotta move forward&lt;br /&gt;I'm a work in progress&lt;br /&gt;Ever changing&lt;br /&gt;Yet staying the same&lt;br /&gt;Rose colored glasses removed&lt;br /&gt;Replaced by eyes on the prize&lt;br /&gt;Success&lt;br /&gt;Self love&lt;br /&gt;Optimism&lt;br /&gt;A new way of thinking&lt;br /&gt;It's all leading up to something&lt;br /&gt;My heart knows&lt;br /&gt;It's going to take time&lt;br /&gt;And a whole lot of work&lt;br /&gt;To be her, that woman&lt;br /&gt;The one deep inside you&lt;br /&gt;She's stirring around&lt;br /&gt;Ready to explode&lt;br /&gt;Eventually she'll show herself&lt;br /&gt;But for now &lt;br /&gt;You're still&lt;br /&gt;A work in progress&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1506754935687340047?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1506754935687340047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1506754935687340047&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1506754935687340047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1506754935687340047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/work-in-progress.html' title='I&apos;m A Work in Progress'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYSZ0A5ks2I/AAAAAAAAAQA/OX6Yz1gqyPo/s72-c/work-in-progress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-8112519121169300926</id><published>2009-01-29T10:43:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T11:01:13.442-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='left out'/><title type='text'>Hurt Feelings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYHOuhLAFjI/AAAAAAAAAPo/FZVK84GLDss/s1600-h/Confinement-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYHOuhLAFjI/AAAAAAAAAPo/FZVK84GLDss/s320/Confinement-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296741935338231346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow!  I got my feelings hurt big time this morning.  This is more of a venting post than an infomational one. I'm not going to go into details, but all I can say is it's really painful to be left out.  Today is a pretty sad day for me.  It's the worst when you walk around with that feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can't shake.  I have a feeling that it's going to be there for a while.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a perfect person.  I don't always call or stay in touch with people the way I should and I definitely own that.  I'm sort of a loner and hardly ever use the phone when i'm at home.  I'll send someone a text message in a minute, but i'm trying not to do that as much because my bill was out of this world last month.  I had to laugh. That's what I get for not wanting to talk on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought that, even though I don't call the way I should, certain people would leave me out of things, especially celebrations where everyone else is present.  There are always certain people in your life that you may not talk to, but when the time comes to get together, you get together. I didn't find out until this morning that I wasn't even thought about in the equation.  At first I was totally pissed off, but that angry quickly turned to hurt.  I put up an extra tough exterior, but I am a total marshmellow when it comes to certain things and certain people.  I actually shed a tear when I got to work this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make matters worse, no one thinks it's a big deal.  That added to the hurt i'm feeling.  I'm not playing the victim card at all. I feel that things worked out the way they did for a reason.  I have always known my place on the outside of certain relationships, but never wanted to admit the truth.  My husband has been talking to me about it for years, but it's hard to face certain things.  This recent situation put the facts right in my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been saying things were going to change for me in 2009 and I meant it.  When people treat your feeling like they're nothing it has to serve as a wake up call.  Well, i'm awake.  I really do feel like something is moving in my life right now and maybe certain things are moving out.  I don't know.  The only thing I can do is let go and let God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My days of dwelling on things have to end.  This must be a test.  I have to move on and look forward to the good things that are coming my way and leave the hurt feelings behind.  If I could only get rid of this feeling in the pit of my stomach...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-8112519121169300926?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/8112519121169300926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=8112519121169300926&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8112519121169300926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8112519121169300926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/hurt-feelings.html' title='Hurt Feelings'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SYHOuhLAFjI/AAAAAAAAAPo/FZVK84GLDss/s72-c/Confinement-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-767248109225906833</id><published>2009-01-26T16:46:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T17:18:09.397-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rude'/><title type='text'>Rude People</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SX4vryOWBRI/AAAAAAAAAPg/jZKqmnQncJ8/s1600-h/dude_thats_rude.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SX4vryOWBRI/AAAAAAAAAPg/jZKqmnQncJ8/s320/dude_thats_rude.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295722641097098514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot stand rude people!  I hate it when i'm walking down the street and move out of the way of someone coming my way and they keep walking, without moving, and bump into me.  It makes me so angry! What about the person that steps on your foot and looks at you without saying anything?  Don't get me started on that one.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened to common courtesy?  It seems like people don't have it anymore.  There's a particular person I know who walks in my house like they live there, and doesn't speak.  I was raised to know that you always speak when you walk into a room.  How can you walk into a space occupied by people and act as if they're not there?  Who the hell are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at my desk one afternoon and my manager walked over and grabbed my mouse and started looking for something like I wasn't sitting there.  I pushed her hand off the mouse and asked her if there was something I could help her with.  How dare she do that?  Is it me, or was that rude?  I know it was rude and I don't know why I asked.  I just started working with this person and I realize the other people in the department let her do and say whatever she wants.  That is not, and will never be, me.  I demand that my personal space is respected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal space is very important to me.  I hate when i'm standing on line and someone is so close to me that I can barely move.  I try so hard not to lose my temper, but it's hard.  Why are you up on me like that?  Get out of my space.  We do not know each other!  That's rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I cannot stand is when you're talking to someone and someone else interupts like a conversation wasn't going on.  Hello!  Can you wait until we're done?  I'm pretty sure that whatever you had to say wasn't that important, and if it was you could have at least said excuse me.  That's rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of conversations, what about when you're talking to someone and they cut you off and start talking about something else?  It's obvious that they really didn't give a damn about what you were saying.  That's rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on a crowded but the other day and this man had this big ass bag on his back.  I was holding on to the pole in front of a person who was about to get up.  When I went to sit down, he took his bag and knocked me out of the way.  I probably would have smacked him if I wasn't in shock.  Everyone on the bus was looking at him like he was crazy. I'm trying to change in 2009 so I chalked it up to his bag being heavy.  (I DID WANT TO BUST HIS ASS)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do rude people know they're rude?  Do they not care?  What rude things bother you?  Or are you the rude one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-767248109225906833?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/767248109225906833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=767248109225906833&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/767248109225906833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/767248109225906833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/rude-people.html' title='Rude People'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SX4vryOWBRI/AAAAAAAAAPg/jZKqmnQncJ8/s72-c/dude_thats_rude.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-8220759623377367164</id><published>2009-01-22T18:06:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T15:40:25.845-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oscar nomination'/><title type='text'>The Curious Career of Taraji P. Henson</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqvjvjfQI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/qWklubezdXs/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqvjvjfQI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/qWklubezdXs/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294591308464356610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been a fan on Taraji P. Henson since she came on the scene in "Baby Boy."  I always thought her career should be much bigger, and i'm sure it would be if her skin wasn't brown.  It's so sad that talented Black actors and actresses don't get the same burn in Hollywood as their Caucasian counterparts.  I guess that's just the way of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the gullable girl in love in "Baby Boy," to the hooker with a heart in "Hustle and Flow," around to a detective on the Lifetime show "The Division," to Don Cheadle's crazy girlfriend in "Talk to Me," or the lesbian hit woman in "Smoking Aces," Taraji always puts in work.  I'm a fan.  I'm sure she could play any role she wanted, but it's all about the offers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqmB75osI/AAAAAAAAAPI/Jj8aW_hEt8I/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 95px; height: 124px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqmB75osI/AAAAAAAAAPI/Jj8aW_hEt8I/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294591144770511554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqc-ll5XI/AAAAAAAAAPA/Gyggi4ViFkA/s1600-h/060227_hustleflow_hmed_12p_hmedium.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqc-ll5XI/AAAAAAAAAPA/Gyggi4ViFkA/s320/060227_hustleflow_hmed_12p_hmedium.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294590989252814194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqO2Fi4jI/AAAAAAAAAO4/ES6DWW0BDdc/s1600-h/talktomepic2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqO2Fi4jI/AAAAAAAAAO4/ES6DWW0BDdc/s320/talktomepic2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294590746452746802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Ms. Henson got her chance when she was given the role in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button."  My husband and I went to a sneak preview of the movie and my girl was awesome.  She held her own against, and in my case outshined, Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett, and anyone else who was in that movie.  She's a scene stealer, always has been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXop0atlf_I/AAAAAAAAAOw/cjqdmX_SKlA/s1600-h/button6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXop0atlf_I/AAAAAAAAAOw/cjqdmX_SKlA/s320/button6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294590292427898866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like someone I know was nominated.  She seems like a really humble, down to earth sister. I just wanted to give her a shout out.  I'm proud of her.  It's great to see someone get what they deserve.  I hope she'll finally begin to get the roles as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have to shout out Viola Davis who was nominated in the same category for her role in the movie "Doubt."  Girlfriend had to do her thing opposite Meryl Streep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXopUyh3nsI/AAAAAAAAAOg/zW1s3waHrpE/s1600-h/violaheader.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXopUyh3nsI/AAAAAAAAAOg/zW1s3waHrpE/s320/violaheader.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294589749065391810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXopoJxUYtI/AAAAAAAAAOo/yP5aAIK9b4A/s1600-h/83945458.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 208px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXopoJxUYtI/AAAAAAAAAOo/yP5aAIK9b4A/s320/83945458.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294590081721721554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to all the Black actresses that sacrifice so much for their art, even though they don't always get the roles or recognition they deserve. Go sistas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-8220759623377367164?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/8220759623377367164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=8220759623377367164&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8220759623377367164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/8220759623377367164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/ive-been-fan-on-taraji-p.html' title='The Curious Career of Taraji P. Henson'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXoqvjvjfQI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/qWklubezdXs/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6482549754318705984</id><published>2009-01-21T07:43:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T07:59:15.629-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Words Needed</title><content type='html'>I'm speechless so i'll just let the images speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcb6phgySI/AAAAAAAAANQ/9xivf9iCxWA/s1600-h/20070307obama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcb6phgySI/AAAAAAAAANQ/9xivf9iCxWA/s320/20070307obama.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293730581390084386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcb2PJDe7I/AAAAAAAAANI/sODVYq1DG58/s1600-h/GQCAM97L1YCAPHKZPTCAWVIOPICAXVU9JTCA2G8GHCCAS79NVKCAQU3CLZCAFZYFMTCA77DHJNCAM3N814CAG1NIACCACLOS2ZCACRTS38CAC980DFCA5TPWGOCA1IG3B1CALHWKGMCAYUS69LCAKIK3BT.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 84px; height: 130px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcb2PJDe7I/AAAAAAAAANI/sODVYq1DG58/s320/GQCAM97L1YCAPHKZPTCAWVIOPICAXVU9JTCA2G8GHCCAS79NVKCAQU3CLZCAFZYFMTCA77DHJNCAM3N814CAG1NIACCACLOS2ZCACRTS38CAC980DFCA5TPWGOCA1IG3B1CALHWKGMCAYUS69LCAKIK3BT.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293730505588702130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbvVdo-GI/AAAAAAAAANA/CK0vuaT8g0w/s1600-h/RHCA4BVZYOCAFO96E3CA1KPWGZCAO26JF8CAQ34MH5CAJLEYLOCA5GDLE9CA7SYSQECAEM3G5WCA5BUSNZCAA3AQWDCAYDWAPCCA2HYIA8CA7PY2S9CAIXVRYBCAU1IU76CA7JR8XXCAP5CU36CA4CRH93.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 115px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbvVdo-GI/AAAAAAAAANA/CK0vuaT8g0w/s320/RHCA4BVZYOCAFO96E3CA1KPWGZCAO26JF8CAQ34MH5CAJLEYLOCA5GDLE9CA7SYSQECAEM3G5WCA5BUSNZCAA3AQWDCAYDWAPCCA2HYIA8CA7PY2S9CAIXVRYBCAU1IU76CA7JR8XXCAP5CU36CA4CRH93.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293730387026573410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbb7JcvFI/AAAAAAAAAM4/V_vhnPkeso4/s1600-h/president-obama-and-michelle-first-dance-big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbb7JcvFI/AAAAAAAAAM4/V_vhnPkeso4/s320/president-obama-and-michelle-first-dance-big.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293730053545049170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbVTHdA6I/AAAAAAAAAMw/HYloytrfSqs/s1600-h/picture1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 169px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbVTHdA6I/AAAAAAAAAMw/HYloytrfSqs/s320/picture1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293729939720045474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbGyLFZpI/AAAAAAAAAMo/EumVTulJt1U/s1600-h/_45395536_obama_getty512x288.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcbGyLFZpI/AAAAAAAAAMo/EumVTulJt1U/s320/_45395536_obama_getty512x288.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293729690358736530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXca-Hahn3I/AAAAAAAAAMg/0PYPv-bv7S4/s1600-h/M9CAQO0PU5CAKZ2TGMCA7IGXO0CASDIH4LCA13WC23CAZ2TECNCASBM9IFCABRYN4KCAM8AZX2CAJDY6BZCASM7BAGCACLHSPKCAFXOT5SCAZ8NL9OCAACNGTXCAL0XUXCCAWI8PIACAG8HLTTCA5KB6MA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 135px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXca-Hahn3I/AAAAAAAAAMg/0PYPv-bv7S4/s320/M9CAQO0PU5CAKZ2TGMCA7IGXO0CASDIH4LCA13WC23CAZ2TECNCASBM9IFCABRYN4KCAM8AZX2CAJDY6BZCASM7BAGCACLHSPKCAFXOT5SCAZ8NL9OCAACNGTXCAL0XUXCCAWI8PIACAG8HLTTCA5KB6MA.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293729541441822578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6482549754318705984?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6482549754318705984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6482549754318705984&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6482549754318705984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6482549754318705984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/no-words-needed.html' title='No Words Needed'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXcb6phgySI/AAAAAAAAANQ/9xivf9iCxWA/s72-c/20070307obama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4367313233264979085</id><published>2009-01-19T10:39:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T14:40:15.354-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dr. King&apos;s birthday and dream'/><title type='text'>On this day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXS5AD3xQTI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/8h7lw4pOWbY/s1600-h/LI20972%40Martin-Luther-King-3875.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXS5AD3xQTI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/8h7lw4pOWbY/s320/LI20972%40Martin-Luther-King-3875.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293058872757535026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this day&lt;br /&gt;We celebrate the life of a man &lt;br /&gt;Not a mere mortal&lt;br /&gt;An angel&lt;br /&gt;Sent here to save us&lt;br /&gt;To save us from ourselves&lt;br /&gt;Even those who didn't want to be saved&lt;br /&gt;Those who thought they were the savior&lt;br /&gt;That they deserved the "power"&lt;br /&gt;On this day&lt;br /&gt;We look back&lt;br /&gt;On a life&lt;br /&gt;A life that was cut short&lt;br /&gt;Yet seemed so long&lt;br /&gt;What an impact&lt;br /&gt;For one man to have&lt;br /&gt;Never violent&lt;br /&gt;Always thoughtful&lt;br /&gt;Extremely courageous&lt;br /&gt;On this day&lt;br /&gt;We think of the words&lt;br /&gt;"I have a dream"&lt;br /&gt;And feel as though our dreams&lt;br /&gt;Can actually become reality&lt;br /&gt;It seems as though&lt;br /&gt;Anything is possible&lt;br /&gt;If you have the audacity&lt;br /&gt;To hope&lt;br /&gt;On this day&lt;br /&gt;We look to tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;The day when it happens&lt;br /&gt;We'll have a new President&lt;br /&gt;A Black President&lt;br /&gt;But not the Black people's President&lt;br /&gt;He will truly be&lt;br /&gt;The people's President&lt;br /&gt;The realization of the dream&lt;br /&gt;The dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."&lt;br /&gt;And even though&lt;br /&gt;On this day&lt;br /&gt;We know we're not there yet&lt;br /&gt;It still feels as though&lt;br /&gt;We're a little bit closer&lt;br /&gt;I can feel it&lt;br /&gt;We may not get there together&lt;br /&gt;But we as a people&lt;br /&gt;Will get to the promise land&lt;br /&gt;On this day &lt;br /&gt;I feel blessed&lt;br /&gt;And for the first time in a long time&lt;br /&gt;I am proud to be an American&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXTARUWl1nI/AAAAAAAAAMY/SrKoK-BvTKk/s1600-h/martin_luther_king_jr_freedom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXTARUWl1nI/AAAAAAAAAMY/SrKoK-BvTKk/s320/martin_luther_king_jr_freedom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293066865820948082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4367313233264979085?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4367313233264979085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4367313233264979085&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4367313233264979085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4367313233264979085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/on-this-day.html' title='On this day'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SXS5AD3xQTI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/8h7lw4pOWbY/s72-c/LI20972%40Martin-Luther-King-3875.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2949773548212118290</id><published>2009-01-14T12:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T14:03:31.696-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='going to the movies alone'/><title type='text'>Solo Cinema</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SW4m0OS9myI/AAAAAAAAAMI/9QL0a4tZA9U/s1600-h/movie-tickets-popcorn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SW4m0OS9myI/AAAAAAAAAMI/9QL0a4tZA9U/s320/movie-tickets-popcorn.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291209290839595810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a girlfriend who goes to the movies by herself all the time.  That was something I thought I could never do.  She would go as early as she could and see two, sometimes three movies.  I wasn't sure if I thought she was brave or if I felt sorry for her. She didn't really care what anyone thought anyway, so it didn't really matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I have this thing about going to the movies.  It's something we like to do together.  We rarely, if ever, go to the movies with other people.  A friend of his works at a movie theater and when we go we get to see as many movies as we want.  He gives us the schedule and we walk in and out of theaters until we're ready to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some time last year there was a movie I wanted to see that my husband wasn't interested in. I asked my co-worker if she wanted to go and she had something to do.  When she suggested I go by myself I looked at her like she was crazy.  She even laughed because she's never gone alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself thinking about her suggestion for a while.  Looking back, I can't believe I put so much thought into something as simple as seeing a movie.  It took me about a week, but I eventually bit the bullet and went alone.  It was a big deal and I felt nervous the entire bus ride to the theater. When I got there, I wondered if the person who took my ticket, the people I passed in the lobby, or the people at the concession stand thought I was a loser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went into the theater and, to my surprise, it was filled with women, and a few men, who were there alone like me.  I get off of work at 3:30, which is pretty early, so it wasn't a large crowd.  I immediately relaxed.  The movie was great and it was nice to have that time to myself.  I understood why my friend went alone so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gone alone a few more times.  I'm the type of person who enjoys spending time with myself so it's great for me.  Going to the movies alone is very relaxing.  I can't believe I stressed myself out over it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same friend who goes to the movies alone has also traveled to Aruba and Jamaica by herself.  I don't think I could ever do that.  She's awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2949773548212118290?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2949773548212118290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2949773548212118290&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2949773548212118290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2949773548212118290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/solo-cinema.html' title='Solo Cinema'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SW4m0OS9myI/AAAAAAAAAMI/9QL0a4tZA9U/s72-c/movie-tickets-popcorn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5231479627873826198</id><published>2009-01-11T18:02:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:05:27.692-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='biggie'/><title type='text'>If You Don't Know Now You Know</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SWqI3w7cV0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/HbCaql0hrn8/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 107px; height: 143px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SWqI3w7cV0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/HbCaql0hrn8/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290191203908474690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The film, "Notorious," comes out this Friday.  It's the story of one of New York's finest, The Notorious B.I.G. or Biggie Smalls.  It's hard to believe he's passed away over ten years ago. For someone who wasn't in the rap game long, he had a huge impact.  He came along at a time when West coast rap was all the rage.  People had almost forgotten that this rap thing started in New York. Big Poppa busted onto the scene and reminded them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a fan of the hardest of the hard rap music.  I don't mean the bitch, hoe, I sell drugs and i'm rich version.  I'm talking about hard beats and lyrics that come from the heart.  Biggie Smalls was right up my alley.  I never found his lyrics gratuitous.  It always felt like he was telling a Brooklyn tale.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born and raised in Harlem. We moved to the Bronx when I entered junior high school.  It was the beginning of this thing some people now call rap and the people who love it call hip hop.  It was fun. It was not only about putting words to music, it was also about graffiti, break dancing, and the electric boogie.  I remember going to jams in the park and having a ball.  I even grabbed the mike a few times.  My name was Tricky T. (It was cool in the eighties)  The dance battles were amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere down the line, hip hop turned into rap and I lost some of my interest.  I still listen to it, just not all of it. I often find myself wondering what it would be like if Biggie was still alive.  He was just about to blow up when he was killed.  He had so much potential.  New York mourned for a long time after he died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the day he died, March 9, 1997. My husband and best friend threw me a surprise birthday party the night before and we had a lot of fun.  He woke me up the next morning to tell me Biggie had been shot and killed in California. I couldn't believe it.  Hip hop had lost one of its best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really listen to rap music anymore.  There's too much bling bling and look at me going on.  That's not hip hop.  I prefer to look back to the fun days.  I'm sure that's how those in my parents generation feel about r&amp;b.  Don't get me started on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5231479627873826198?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5231479627873826198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5231479627873826198&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5231479627873826198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5231479627873826198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-you-dont-know-now-you-know.html' title='If You Don&apos;t Know Now You Know'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SWqI3w7cV0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/HbCaql0hrn8/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5201486392706719132</id><published>2009-01-09T22:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T22:41:32.917-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SWgXOIviBlI/AAAAAAAAALo/M7akGhac-n4/s1600-h/random+thoughts2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SWgXOIviBlI/AAAAAAAAALo/M7akGhac-n4/s320/random+thoughts2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289503293979100754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A doctor here in New York wants his soon to be ex wife to give back the kidney he gave her in 2002.  If he can't get the kidney, he wants 1.5 million dollars.  He has to be the ultimate indian giver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009 is going to be a good year. I can feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a break from blogging and no one noticed. That's part of the reason I took a break from blogging.  I needed to take a step back and come back with a new attitude. I needed to remember that I started this blog because I love to write. If only one person reads it, at least i've shared my passion with someone.  Quality is way more important than quantity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's Don?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so easy to give up when things don't work out the way you expected.  I'm easily disappointed and that's something i'm trying to change in the new year. Life is what you make it and I think my pessimistic outlook was making things harder for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to be a great football weekend.  My picks are Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Carolina and, of course The New York Giants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're getting snow this weekend and it's ruining my plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On January 13th I will be married 20 years. My husband and I have gone through some things since we've been together.  Marriage is not easy, it's hard work.  Looking back through the years I can honestly say every down was worth the up.  We've had a lot of good times and share so many wonderful memories.  I wouldn't change a thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching The First 48 the other night and a man killed six people, including his brother, niece and nephew.  He shot four adults and stabbed four children.  Two of the children lived and one of them was able to tell the police that his uncle was the one who stabbed him in the chest.  Crazy!  I know I should stop watching this show, but I can't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son just finished his first semester of college and I think i'm more excited about it than he is.  I'm so proud of him.  I see good things in his future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009 is going to be one of the best years I have ever had.  I am determined to make this statement a reality.  I am claiming my success!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5201486392706719132?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5201486392706719132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5201486392706719132&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5201486392706719132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5201486392706719132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2009/01/random-thoughts.html' title='Random Thoughts'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SWgXOIviBlI/AAAAAAAAALo/M7akGhac-n4/s72-c/random+thoughts2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6561172695212760133</id><published>2008-12-29T08:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T08:18:05.214-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SVjOBcXhrII/AAAAAAAAALQ/VEwsD-Qfq1o/s1600-h/Happy-New-Year.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 312px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SVjOBcXhrII/AAAAAAAAALQ/VEwsD-Qfq1o/s320/Happy-New-Year.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285200686909336706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't be blogging for a while, but I wanted to wish al of those who take the time to visit my blog a happy new year.  I haven't really been feeling the whole blogging thing like I once did.  It's beginning to frustrate me for a few reasons so i'm going to take a break and come back with a fresh start in 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy new year to all.  I hope 2009 is 1000% better than 2008.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6561172695212760133?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6561172695212760133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6561172695212760133&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6561172695212760133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6561172695212760133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/12/happy-2009.html' title='Happy 2009'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SVjOBcXhrII/AAAAAAAAALQ/VEwsD-Qfq1o/s72-c/Happy-New-Year.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-9040025020613470239</id><published>2008-12-26T10:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T10:53:18.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>'Twas the Day After Christmas</title><content type='html'>I had an outstanding Christmas day.  My family did a grab bag and had breakfast at my sister's house.  We had such a good time.  I love spending time with my family.  We always enjoy ourselves.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was my mother's secret Santa.  I made her a personalized calendar and bought her an outfit.  She absolutely loved the calendar and started crying before she even knew what it was.  The cover of the calendar is a picture of my family at an event my son's high school had last year.  Just seeing that was enough to make her cry.  She lost it when she opened the calendar and saw all the pictures.  I put a lot of time and love into making it and i'm so glad she was touched the way I hoped she would be.  Actually, everyone loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son had my name and he bought me two photos of Barack Obama that I will be framing and hanging up in our hallway.  He also bought two shirt, one with Barack's face and the other with one of my favorite moments in history:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SVT7yGKSvgI/AAAAAAAAALI/ma_mEcJLaeA/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 86px; height: 123px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SVT7yGKSvgI/AAAAAAAAALI/ma_mEcJLaeA/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284125100878249474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son knows me very well and knew that I would go crazy when I saw that shirt.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and her boyfriend made us all a wonderful breakfast.  They made waffles, eggs, salmon cakes, bacon, home fries, grits, fish and shrimp.  I know i'm leaving something out but there was so much that I can't remember it at all.  It was great to break bread with the ones I love most on the day of the birth of our savior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son got Rock Band 2 for his birthday and we rocked out for hours.  It was so much fun.  We enjoy each other's company so much that we don't have to do anything fancy.  Something as simple as homemade breakfast and a video game turned into one of the best Christmases I have ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so blessed to have such a wonderful family.  The fact that a lot of people aren't as lucky does not go over my head.  Some don't get along, others don't stay in touch, and there are those who have family they've never met.  I thank God every day for the blessing of family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-9040025020613470239?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/9040025020613470239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=9040025020613470239&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/9040025020613470239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/9040025020613470239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/12/twas-day-after-christmas.html' title='&apos;Twas the Day After Christmas'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SVT7yGKSvgI/AAAAAAAAALI/ma_mEcJLaeA/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-6688847377165603712</id><published>2008-12-18T11:42:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T13:31:45.886-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='being alone'/><title type='text'>Me Time</title><content type='html'>I like being alone.  I've never been what one might call a social butterfly.  I love spending time with family and the few friends that I have, but the streets have never called my name.  I wouldn't say i'm a total homebody, but I do enjoy my time at home.  It doesn't take a lot to make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are people who see something wrong with this. They think I should go out more.  I'm just fine and don't understand why people always feel the need to judge and put their two cents in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many facets to my personality.  Sometimes i'm shy, and sometimes i'm outgoing.  Sometimes i'm soft-spoken and other times i'm loud.  I'm confident, but have self-esteem issues from time to time.  I can't figure myself out half the time, but I do know that I enjoy being alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my writer's spirit.  I'm a bit of a loner.  Being by myself is not a horrible thing.  It gives me time to clear my head and come up with new ideas.  I've made a lot of realizations and formulated a lot of plans during my me time.  Considering the fact that i'm always thinking, I think that alone time is necessary.  My mind is always racing and I need quiet moments to get my thoughts together and calm my ever working brain.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know people who need a crowd and find it hard to function if they're not the center of attention.  If that's their thing so be it, it's just not mine.  I cherish those days when my husband and children are gone and I have time to sit down and watch a program I like, book and pen in hand.  I try to edit my book every chance I get and it's much easier when i'm alone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit I haven't had a girl's night out in a very long time.  I've been spending most of my out time with my husband.  That's fine with me.  He has his night, every Thursday.  I could use an occasional night out without him, I just haven't made it a priority.  We've grown a lot closer since we started going to our couples meeting.  The meetings are over and I really miss them, but i'm glad it has helped our relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got back in contact with an old friend that I haven't spoken to since March.  She has a very demanding job and has been really busy.  We're going to get together and do something when she has time.  I'm looking forward to it.  I've missed my friend.  Neither one of us have been doing much.  There was a time when she and I were always on the go.  It'll be nice to have her back in my life.  No matter what, you always need that special friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-6688847377165603712?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/6688847377165603712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=6688847377165603712&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6688847377165603712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/6688847377165603712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/12/me-time.html' title='Me Time'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7167014891376489303</id><published>2008-12-09T07:01:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T06:59:23.548-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='basketball'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my son'/><title type='text'>My Not So Baby Boy</title><content type='html'>My son turned 18 yesterday.  I can't believe it!  It seems like he was just born yesterday, all ten pounds, eleven ounces of him.  It's been a pleasure to watch him grow into the young man he has become.  He's a remarkable person.  His calm and gentle nature is the thing I love most about him.  He has the ability to be the quiet in the midst of a storm.  When others panic, he analyzes the situation, states the obvious, and moves on.  That is not something he inherited from his parents or his older sister.  We all have fiery tempers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my son's first year of college.  He was accepted to about six colleges away from home, but decided he wanted to stay and go to a local university.  His father, sister, and I were a little upset about it but left the decision up to him.  It turned out to be a good decision because he ended up receiving a full, four year scholarship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often joked that one day he would turn into a basketball and roll away.  Basketball has always been his favorite sport to watch and play.  He played little league baseball for a few years, but that was not his passion, it's definitely basketball.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as he decided to stay home, my son began to contact the coaches of the school he chose in hopes of being able to try out for the team.  His efforts paid off.  After a whole lot of hard work and dedication he tried out for, and became a member of the team.  It's not easy to walk on to a team, but he did it. We were all so happy for him because we knew how hard he worked and how much he wanted it.  When my young man is determined, he goes for broke.  I've never seen him so dedicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son, Ratique, is now a member of the Lehman College Lightning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ST5hoc9QrlI/AAAAAAAAALA/hDB863VKkvg/s1600-h/Lehman+practice+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ST5hoc9QrlI/AAAAAAAAALA/hDB863VKkvg/s320/Lehman+practice+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277763160920600146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost cried the first time I saw my son on the court in his uniform with his goggles on his head.  He looked like such a man. He's looked so handsome and fit.  I think I may have been in shock. At that moment I realized he was no longer a baby.  He'll always be my baby, but he's a man now.  I took a moment to look back and remember a few moments from the 17 years he had lived at that time.  There weren't many bumps in his road to manhood.  He was a fun, busy kid and we all loved him and each other very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all knew he wouldn't get much playing time because he is a freshman.  We attend his games and cheer for the team, knowing that one day he'll get his chance to show his skills.  Obviously the coach knows he can play or he would not have put him on the team.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, on his 18th birthday, as his father, sister (who was holding up a Happy Birthday #25 sign - complete with lightning bolts), his father's friend (Aggy - who loves the way my son plays and attends every game with us) and I cheered and hoped we would get to see him play, my son got up to go to the scorer's table.  My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.  When he went into the game, we jumped up and cheered for our boy.......I mean man.  It was one of the best moments of my life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were so excited.  People in the stands were shouting his name and his teammates were happy to see him play on his birthday.  They would stand up and cheer or make noise every time he touched the ball.  He did his thing, he's a workhorse on the court.  His defense and ability to see the entire floor amaze me.  He's always there for his teammates, on or off the court.  He scored a few buckets too.  It was a fun thing to watch, but at the same time i'm always a nervous wreck when he plays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart filled with so much pride and joy.  I was happy that he was able to do what he loved on the day of his birth, the day he officially became a legal man, even though I feel like he's had the attributes of a man for many years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the game ended his teammates jumped on him and sang happy birthday.  He had one of the biggest smiles i've ever seen on his face.  It was wonderful.  I'm so proud of him.  He doesn't always show his emotions, but last night he was happier than I have seen him in a very long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7167014891376489303?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7167014891376489303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7167014891376489303&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7167014891376489303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7167014891376489303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-not-so-baby-boy.html' title='My Not So Baby Boy'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/ST5hoc9QrlI/AAAAAAAAALA/hDB863VKkvg/s72-c/Lehman+practice+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-179886540650153356</id><published>2008-12-05T11:48:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T19:13:26.512-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='letting go caution'/><title type='text'>What are you afraid of?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;"What are you afraid of?  "Don't you know what you're made of?" - Mary Mary&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to ask myself these questions from time to time.  There are always what ifs crawling around in my head and forcing me to have a pessimistic outlook on just about everything.  I have this guard up because I don't want to be disappointed.  I figure if I assume things won't work out I won't be disappointed when they don't.  I have tried really hard not to think this way, but it seems to be part of my make up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My book is done and i'm in the editing stage. I really love what I have read and I know i'm a good writer, but there's still that doubt in the back of my head.  I'm willing to do what has to be done to publish my work, but i'm very cautious of getting to excited.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this way of thinking does nothing but block my blessings and send negative vibes into the universe, but it's not easy to end a way of thinking that has been in your head for 40 years.  The fear of the let down is holding me back.  I'm not one to throw caution to the wind.  Caution is my friend, it protects me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this mean I don't have any faith?  People always say, "Let go and let God," and I know if I put things in his hands they will work out the way they should, but why is it so hard?  I want to succeed and not let my old friend caution keep me from achieving my goals.  Part of my dream has been accomplished; I have written a book. The other half of the dream is sharing my gift with the world.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a way, I guess I share my gift by blogging.  This was a big step for me.  It's not easy to share a piece of yourself with people you do not know.  Starting this blog has helped me to stop holding back when it comes to letting people see the things I write.  There's no way I can continue to be that way if I want to publish a novel.  I need readers, the more the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My blog friend &lt;a href="http://slcperspective.blogspot.com/"&gt;SLC&lt;/a&gt;, whose opinion and wisdom I really admire quoted a scripture for me that I carry in my purse and pinned to my cubicle at work:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A word from Romans, We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us - they help us learn to endure. (Romans 5:3NLT)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at this scripture from time to time and am realizing that instead of doubting and being pessimistic I need to realize that no matter what obstacles I may go through if I stay strong and keep moving forward I will appreciate the victory when it comes and it will be even sweeter because I know it was worth whatever I had to endure to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="381"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/k5eC6kj7vUxwUDIeQz&amp;related=1&amp;canvas=medium"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/k5eC6kj7vUxwUDIeQz&amp;related=1&amp;canvas=medium" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" height="381" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x69zf7_mary-mary-get-up-new-song_music"&gt;Mary Mary - Get Up (New song)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/wonderful-life1989"&gt;wonderful-life1989&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-179886540650153356?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/179886540650153356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=179886540650153356&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/179886540650153356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/179886540650153356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-are-you-afraid-of.html' title='What are you afraid of?'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1976953590068051092</id><published>2008-12-01T09:36:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T14:18:13.175-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York sports'/><title type='text'>Defending Marbury</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQnOzbC4hI/AAAAAAAAAKE/lHpok5_US18/s1600-h/2OCAXHBTXYCAEV79ZACA02VXX9CAAZ7AEGCAIP0O56CARVKURHCA0XGDQZCA8OR1J7CAVZ18JSCAGUWDFLCAB9OIASCAOB9V6HCA232K6ICAIYQQYKCAI0SAYDCAOIVX18CAGJ74TMCAMVIBXSCA9QU6OH.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 127px; height: 74px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQnOzbC4hI/AAAAAAAAAKE/lHpok5_US18/s320/2OCAXHBTXYCAEV79ZACA02VXX9CAAZ7AEGCAIP0O56CARVKURHCA0XGDQZCA8OR1J7CAVZ18JSCAGUWDFLCAB9OIASCAOB9V6HCA232K6ICAIYQQYKCAI0SAYDCAOIVX18CAGJ74TMCAMVIBXSCA9QU6OH.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274884198832988690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a sports fanatic.  If it's a sport, i'll watch it.  My father blessed me with the love of all games.  My son and I always talk about what's going on in the sports world.  He's on his school basketball team.  He's a college freshman and doesn't get much playing time right now, but he's patient and realizes he has to pay his dues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Yankees are my favorite sports team of all time.  They haven't been that stellar lately, but they're the Yankees.  I love them no matter what and know that things will turn around.  I am, however, kind of pissed off about the new stadium because I know it will make it harder for families to go to games.  The prices are going through the roof at a time when people's pockets are being negatively affected by &lt;br /&gt;the economy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQmsh_YHyI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/Lqs4-2mQjk0/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 129px; height: 97px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQmsh_YHyI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/Lqs4-2mQjk0/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274883610037985058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching the New York Giants breeze through the playoffs and over the annointed ones in the Super Bowl was one of the most beautiful things i've ever witnessed.  New Yorkers were so happy.  We all walked around with permanent smiles on our faces for at least a week and took off work to attend the ticker tape parade.  They're getting busy this season (11-1 baby) and Eli has become a man. It must feel good to no longer be in his brother's shadow.  Yes, Plaxico is a problem child, but hopefully he'll get it together one of these days.  I'm hoping he has not ended his football career with constant stupidity and bad decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQmYDdxInI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/gCg09KzJYc8/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 148px; height: 117px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQmYDdxInI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/gCg09KzJYc8/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274883258246570610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been a Knick fan for a while.  They haven't been that exciting, tough as nails team I loved in a long time.  I can't remember the last time I even bothered to watch a Knick game.  I can't handle the disappointment.  This team is so not New York.  There's no way I could get down with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQ4VEXQeRI/AAAAAAAAAKM/L48qDZECzJc/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 99px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQ4VEXQeRI/AAAAAAAAAKM/L48qDZECzJc/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274902998157392146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephon Marbury has been around for a while.  He's taken his Brooklyn swagger all around the NBA and eventually got his wish and ended up playing at home.  Most people don't understand the BK swag.  Marbury was cast as a problem because of it.  I wasn't a fan of his, but still thought he could bring something to the Knicks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marbury gained my respect when he came out with is Starbury line of affordable clothing and sneakers.  As a parent I really appreciated the effort.  It's hard to keep your kids looking fresh in the Jordan age of $200 sneakers.  Marbury's efforts did not go unnoticed.  I thought he did a great thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to present day.  The Isaih Thomas drama finally left the building, and not a moment too soon.  Donnie Walsh stepped in and hired Mike D'Antoni as head coach.  D'Antoni pushed Marbury to the side as soon as he arrived. I understand that Marbury has had his moments, but immeidate disrespect wasn't necessary.  D'Antoni said he was focusing on the future and Marbury wasn't part of the plan.  He sat on the bench and watched the team play. It surprised me that none od his teammates had anything to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now the Knicks need help because of injury and people are pissed off, including the aforementioned silent teammates, because Marbury is not playing.  They say he refused to play, he says he didn't.  There are always two sides to every story. If I was Marbury, I might sit on the bench and continue to collect my digits too.  At the end of the day he's a man and disrespect is not something men take lightly.  How can you sit him on the bench and basically ignore him and then turn around and want to use him because it suits your needs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a lot of people say Stephon got what he deserved but i'll defend him.  Yes, he's had his problems and caused some as well but he's a good guy.  At least he's trying to do things to affect the communities he came from and those like it.  At least he's not out at clubs shooting himself.  I hope he finds a place to play and has learned to act in a manner that will make people want to play with and coach him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my New York sports teams, even when they frustrate me to no end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1976953590068051092?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1976953590068051092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1976953590068051092&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1976953590068051092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1976953590068051092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/12/defending-marbury.html' title='Defending Marbury'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/STQnOzbC4hI/AAAAAAAAAKE/lHpok5_US18/s72-c/2OCAXHBTXYCAEV79ZACA02VXX9CAAZ7AEGCAIP0O56CARVKURHCA0XGDQZCA8OR1J7CAVZ18JSCAGUWDFLCAB9OIASCAOB9V6HCA232K6ICAIYQQYKCAI0SAYDCAOIVX18CAGJ74TMCAMVIBXSCA9QU6OH.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2315427713387105568</id><published>2008-11-25T13:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T13:52:05.612-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What does Thanksgiving mean to you?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSxJTmSB6NI/AAAAAAAAAJs/0a0it7nqzIc/s1600-h/8493-017-03-1027.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSxJTmSB6NI/AAAAAAAAAJs/0a0it7nqzIc/s320/8493-017-03-1027.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272669864786520274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't thought about Pilgrims and Indians in years.  They have nothing to do with the reason I get up early in the morning the last Thursday of every November to prepare my portion of the enormous meal my family will share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me Thanksgiving is all about spending time with the ones I love and giving thanks for one another and all of the many blessings we have.  It's my favorite holiday, and cooking and getting up early are two things I don't like to do.  For some reason, I don't even need an alarm clock on Thanksgiving. I get up bright and early and get to work putting every ounce of love I have into the food i'm preparing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father passed ten years ago and his birthday is November 23rd.  Thanksgiving has fallen on his birthday once since he's been gone, and it's never far from that date.  I take the time to think about the person he was and the impact he had on my life while i'm cooking.  Thinking of him makes me smile now, but there was a time when all I could do was cry when November rolled around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right before we eat, my family stands in a circle holding hands and each one of us says what we're thankful for.  It's a tradition and it's my favorite part of the day.  We don't get together the way we once did but I can always count on that day bringing us together.  There's nothing better than spending time with the ones you love.  We always have a great time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSxGrYEqP-I/AAAAAAAAAJk/svz2F-ER50o/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSxGrYEqP-I/AAAAAAAAAJk/svz2F-ER50o/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272666974754324450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2315427713387105568?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2315427713387105568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2315427713387105568&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2315427713387105568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2315427713387105568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-does-thanksgiving-mean-to-you.html' title='What does Thanksgiving mean to you?'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSxJTmSB6NI/AAAAAAAAAJs/0a0it7nqzIc/s72-c/8493-017-03-1027.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2442527448005920093</id><published>2008-11-18T14:44:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T15:12:13.851-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='perseverance'/><title type='text'>Word of the day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSMbNcrg5RI/AAAAAAAAAJU/1RR6zlloVoM/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSMbNcrg5RI/AAAAAAAAAJU/1RR6zlloVoM/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270085906804565266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word of the day for me is perseverance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perseverance - –noun 1. steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., esp. in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement. &lt;br /&gt;2. Theology. continuance in a state of grace to the end, leading to eternal salvation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning with a different energy.  Yesterday was not a good day.  I actually asked for forgiveness because I felt a little selfish.  People are being laid off left and right and some have been looking for jobs for years.  They would love to be in my shoes.  No, working in a medical library is not what I want to do right now, but i'm blessed to be working at all.  I have excellent benefits and a good retirement plan.  I will try very hard not to complain again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My book is done and I am on a mission to get it published and share my gift with the world.  I've never had my eye on the prize like this before and it feels good.  No matter what is thrown my way i'm determined to make it through to the end.  I have absolutely no choice in the matter.  Nothing will stop me.  No matter how many mountains I have to climb, I will make it to the top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell to my knees and gave thanks after writing the last word and I will continue to do so.  I thank God for giving me this talent and the strength to finally let go and want people to read hear my voice.  It's not easy to do that, at least it wasn't.  Things are different now.  I got a new lease on my writing life.  I feel free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogging has really helped me a lot.  It has been wonderful to share opinions and meet others who love to write as much as I do.  It's a wonderful thing.  I thank everyone who has ever stopped by my blog or left a comment.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my time.  I'm ready to make this happen. I can't wait for the day when I post the picture of my book cover on my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2442527448005920093?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2442527448005920093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2442527448005920093&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2442527448005920093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2442527448005920093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/11/word-of-day.html' title='Word of the day'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSMbNcrg5RI/AAAAAAAAAJU/1RR6zlloVoM/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5114515471390389843</id><published>2008-11-17T14:22:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T14:56:31.927-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='editing my book'/><title type='text'>This is not what I want to do</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSHMa_3ljYI/AAAAAAAAAJM/Ro8v5qB94zw/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 118px; height: 89px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSHMa_3ljYI/AAAAAAAAAJM/Ro8v5qB94zw/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269717803193437570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I returned to work today after being off since last Wednesday.  I didn't really do anything or go anywhere.  All I did was relax.  I did some book editing and spent time with my husband, who was off as well.  I've never been one who needed to come and go a lot so that was fine with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were suppose to visit a friend who lives in upstate New York but something is wrong with our car and my husband didn't want to chance the drive.  We decided to stay home.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got up early yesterday and ran some errands.  I was in good spirits, even though I usually like to spend Sundays at home.  Around 5:00, I noticed that my mood was changing.  My energy level was going down and I felt a little sad.  I had no idea what the hell was going on with me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to sit on the foot of my bed at night and edit my book while my husband is sleeping.  He always goes to sleep first.  I reluctantly went to bed around midnight.  I'd gotten use to staying up late reading through my infant.  I'm trying to get her to the stage where she is full grown.  I didn't realize that the editing process was going to take a while until I started.  I really wanted to stay up and continue working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so hard to get out of bed this morning.  I took my time getting ready and didn't really care if I was late.  Going to work was not what I wanted to do.  I had already grown accustomed to being home.  It was so easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually I made it onto the bus.  I pulled my pages out and edited all the way to work.  Something wasn't right.  Steve Harvey wasn't even making me laugh.  He usually puts a smile on my face and I always get at least one good laugh before I get off the bus.  Neither one happened this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my breakfast and made my way upstairs.  As soon as I got off the elevator it hit me.  I knew what was wrong.  My calling was being missed.  The few days I had at home were like heaven.  No matter what I was doing, I had my pages with me.  I was missing the extra time I had with my baby.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working in a medical library is not what I want to do; it's not what i'm suppose to do. I'm a writer.  That should be my career.  I've been feeling depressed all day because I can't get my baby off my mind.  She needs my tender love and care.  This library does not need me and it's not where I need to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be great if I could quit my job and dedicate all of my time to writing.  There is no doubt in my mind that one day I will be able to do what I want and have the career I choose.  Until then, the bills have to be paid and I have to do what I have to do.  I'm claiming it, it's mine.  I just have to be patient.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5114515471390389843?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5114515471390389843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5114515471390389843&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5114515471390389843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5114515471390389843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-is-not-what-i-want-to-do.html' title='This is not what I want to do'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SSHMa_3ljYI/AAAAAAAAAJM/Ro8v5qB94zw/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2556481620617959190</id><published>2008-11-14T13:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T14:19:08.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SR3PJuhdR7I/AAAAAAAAAJE/ZpCHo--xxIA/s1600-h/question-mark.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SR3PJuhdR7I/AAAAAAAAAJE/ZpCHo--xxIA/s320/question-mark.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268594905107482546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Friday and I have a few random thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama was elected President of the United States!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend zooms by in a total blur and the next thing you know you're back at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of paying bills!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those Circ de Soleil performers are absolutely amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in labor for 23 hours with both of my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama was elected President of the United States!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a black Gucci bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The economy sucks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe my son is a college freshman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm already all Sasha Fierced out.........enough is enough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama was elected President of the United States!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love palm trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allen Iverson is a Piston?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sectional needs to be cleaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling stressed and it's time for me to go out and let my hair down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama was elected President of the United States!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roy Jones got his ass kicked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's cloudy outside, I love the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people kick or bump into you without saying excuse me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am beautiful no matter what they say.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama was elected President of the United States!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son's random thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm basketball sore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a Barack Obama shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How am I going to do in the basketball game tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love The Joker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can someone be that cranky all the time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fix your face!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad I didn't have to go to work today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby's random thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't think of sh*t!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told you I can't think of sh*t!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tammy, I said I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama was elected President of the United States!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have any random thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2556481620617959190?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2556481620617959190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2556481620617959190&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2556481620617959190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2556481620617959190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/11/random-friday.html' title='Random Friday'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SR3PJuhdR7I/AAAAAAAAAJE/ZpCHo--xxIA/s72-c/question-mark.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1756029581772005035</id><published>2008-11-05T10:07:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T10:58:33.808-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='President Obama'/><title type='text'>We have a black president....and i'm alive!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SRHAYfdATMI/AAAAAAAAAIs/7IXHFMr8q1M/s1600-h/PIC-0045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SRHAYfdATMI/AAAAAAAAAIs/7IXHFMr8q1M/s320/PIC-0045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265200966365367490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The title of this post is what I said to my sister last night after Barack Obama was elected.  This is something I never thought I would live to see. Since I cast my vote yesterday, I have been feeling emotions that I didn't know existed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walked into the voting booth around 6:20 yesterday morning, I felt like I was casting a vote for my father, who was a bit on the militant side.  He would have been over the moon.  I took his spirit into the voting booth with me. I thought of my grandparents, especially my grandfather who could barely read but was one of the most successful businessmen in his city.  Those men meant a lot to me and this election would have meant a lot to them.  I know they both have unremovable smiles on their faces just like I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching CNN and, out of nowhere, they projected Obama to be the winner.  I thought I was seeing things.  It all happened so fast.  About ten seconds later, my son opened the window and people were celebrating in the street.  It was like New Year's Eve.  I tried to call family members and friends, but the circuits were jammed.  It was a crazy, wonderful moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tears fell, my body shook, I did a dance, said a prayer, praised the Lord, smiled, laughed, paced; I didn't know what to do with myself.  I was a ball of energy.  It's a feeling I will always remember, that undeniable sense of pride that made black people take to the street and celebrate.  The sense of purpose that made a young man I saw being interviewed on the local news turn his hat around before he spoke to the reporter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what time I went to bed, but I do know that I had one of the most peaceful sleeps i've had in a long time.  I didn't even dream; I guess my dream had already come true.  I woke up with a big smile on my face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears fall as I think of all this man had to endure.  I respect him to no end because of the never waivering dignity he showed in the face of undignified attacks.  I look at Barack Obama and I see his heart.  I feel him.  There's no doubt in my mind that he cares.  I listen to him speak and I see Dr. King in the shadows smiling.  Maybe he can rest just a little bit easier now.  The foundation he laid is finally taking shape.  He gave his life so that we could, possibly, come to this moment one day and here we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing that beautiful, black family walk out together, hand in hand is something I will never forget.  The image of the first family i've thought of for years was before me and it felt like a dream.  Years ago I would have thought it was a fairy tale.  Once upon a time, on a cold winter day, a black man had the audacity of hope and decided to run for President of the United States...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our next President did something most people are not able to do.  He united Americans and inspired them to work together toward one common goal.  As he spoke, I looked out into the crowd and it was so wonderful to see all nationalities rejoicing.  Yes, Barack Obama is a black man, but he is also every man.  He inspires all people, and not only those who live in America and that is such a beautiful thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we know change takes time, we can all hold our heads up a little bit higher.  Our children, and our children's children, have an example of what we can do.  We are a strong people.  As we were leaving for work this morning, my neighbor told me that Barack Obama is not our savior.  I told him I knew that, but he is a symbol.  Like Chris Rock said in his last stand up, we no longer have to give our children the you can be anything you want to be speech.  All they have to do is look at the family residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and they'll know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1756029581772005035?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1756029581772005035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1756029581772005035&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1756029581772005035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1756029581772005035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/11/we-have-black-presidentand-im-alive.html' title='We have a black president....and i&apos;m alive!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SRHAYfdATMI/AAAAAAAAAIs/7IXHFMr8q1M/s72-c/PIC-0045.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-9176681969145681452</id><published>2008-11-03T08:48:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T10:09:29.486-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change long lines'/><title type='text'>It's Time!</title><content type='html'>One day left before we make that change.  I'm so excited.  It's time!  I've been singing that song by the Winans all morning.  We are the people who can do it.  I've heard people complaining about the lines they'll have to wait on tomorrow.  Call me crazy, but i'm excited about it all.  Usually when I go to vote i'm in and out quickly.  If i'm standing on line that means people are coming out to vote.  That's a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8TnTnCLyI/AAAAAAAAAIk/CPHzdl35IXI/s1600-h/lynching_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 206px; height: 244px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8TnTnCLyI/AAAAAAAAAIk/CPHzdl35IXI/s320/lynching_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264448055419219746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8SybFSY7I/AAAAAAAAAIE/lqpjXGiWVxM/s1600-h/5PCAE5Y0R3CAHTBKYPCAM14CVICAA5QQ6ACAFLJCFSCAJH1W1UCAYDG4DICADDAXS8CAOUUV2LCA4KJNX6CA9LD6GOCAOC19AGCAG19FBCCAFU33ROCABDWEVOCAIJM6GHCA5FMR6RCADC02SGCAQX1SRX.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 85px; height: 130px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8SybFSY7I/AAAAAAAAAIE/lqpjXGiWVxM/s320/5PCAE5Y0R3CAHTBKYPCAM14CVICAA5QQ6ACAFLJCFSCAJH1W1UCAYDG4DICADDAXS8CAOUUV2LCA4KJNX6CA9LD6GOCAOC19AGCAG19FBCCAFU33ROCABDWEVOCAIJM6GHCA5FMR6RCADC02SGCAQX1SRX.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264447146892092338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8S99sxr6I/AAAAAAAAAIM/YeafCvjzsnU/s1600-h/050304_selmamarch_tease_300w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 222px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8S99sxr6I/AAAAAAAAAIM/YeafCvjzsnU/s320/050304_selmamarch_tease_300w.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264447345163087778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8TNwtU-nI/AAAAAAAAAIU/bm8Jtvdn_5E/s1600-h/71296-004-0B8CB497.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8TNwtU-nI/AAAAAAAAAIU/bm8Jtvdn_5E/s320/71296-004-0B8CB497.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264447616553646706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8S99sxr6I/AAAAAAAAAIM/YeafCvjzsnU/s1600-h/050304_selmamarch_tease_300w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 222px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8S99sxr6I/AAAAAAAAAIM/YeafCvjzsnU/s320/050304_selmamarch_tease_300w.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264447345163087778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8TZ65UIuI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0sfSrTIlgKk/s1600-h/freemen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8TZ65UIuI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0sfSrTIlgKk/s320/freemen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264447825446707938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY COMPLAIN ABOUT STANDING ON LINE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish my father and grandparents were here to see this.  They would all be ecstatic.  I know they're all smiling at the thought of a black man being president of these United States.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Win or lose, Barack Obama has touched and changed so many lives.  My son won't be 18 until December and he is upset that he can't vote.  I went to the corner store the other day and some young men were talking about how happy they were to be voting for the first time.  They were very informed on the issues.  I was impressed and congratulated them.  It was a wonderful thing to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always tried to make informed decisions when I voted, but this is the first time that I cannot stay away from news channels, needing to know what's going on with the election.  I am all in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to make a change.  We are the people who can do it.  This is the most important election of our time. November 4th is the day.  Be there or be square.      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="420" height="336"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/k7kNqB4FmMw5Oy1E5p&amp;related=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/k7kNqB4FmMw5Oy1E5p&amp;related=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" height="336" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x8esn_the-winans-its-time_music"&gt;The Winans - It's Time&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/jamz_flava"&gt;jamz_flava&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-9176681969145681452?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/9176681969145681452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=9176681969145681452&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/9176681969145681452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/9176681969145681452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-time.html' title='It&apos;s Time!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQ8TnTnCLyI/AAAAAAAAAIk/CPHzdl35IXI/s72-c/lynching_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5927819874717370189</id><published>2008-10-28T10:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T08:28:46.133-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>Make it Happen</title><content type='html'>I was at my desk listening to music while I worked and one of my favorite songs came on, "Make it Happen, by Mariah Carey."  I absolutely love this song.  It's so uplifting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the lyrics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not more than three short years ago&lt;br /&gt;I was abandoned and alone&lt;br /&gt;Without a penny to my name&lt;br /&gt;So very young and so afraid&lt;br /&gt;No proper shoes upon my feet&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I couldn't even eat&lt;br /&gt;I often cried myself to sleep&lt;br /&gt;But still I had to keep on going&lt;br /&gt;Never knowing if I could take it&lt;br /&gt;If I would make it through the night&lt;br /&gt;I held on to my faith&lt;br /&gt;I struggled and I prayed&lt;br /&gt;And now I've found my way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;If you believe in yourself enough&lt;br /&gt;And know what you want&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna make it happen&lt;br /&gt;Make it happen&lt;br /&gt;And if you get down on your&lt;br /&gt;knees at night&lt;br /&gt;And pray to the Lord&lt;br /&gt;He's gonna make it happen&lt;br /&gt;Make it happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know life can be so tough&lt;br /&gt;And you feel like giving up&lt;br /&gt;But you must be strong&lt;br /&gt;Baby just hold on&lt;br /&gt;You'll never find the answers&lt;br /&gt;if you throw your life away&lt;br /&gt;I used to feel the way you do&lt;br /&gt;Still I have to keep on going&lt;br /&gt;Never knowing if I could take it&lt;br /&gt;If I would make it through the night&lt;br /&gt;I held on to my faith&lt;br /&gt;I struggled and I prayed&lt;br /&gt;And now I've finally found my way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once was lost&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm found&lt;br /&gt;I got my feet on solid ground&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Lord&lt;br /&gt;If you believe within your soul&lt;br /&gt;Just hold on tight&lt;br /&gt;And don't let go&lt;br /&gt;You can make it &lt;br /&gt;Make it happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I hear this song it makes me feel good.  I know that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.  I have my own relationship with God.  I don't go to church the way I should, but I have faith and know that prayer has gotten me through some tough times.  I'm still a work in progress.  As Steve Harvey would say, "Don't trip, he ain't through with me yet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've struggled through some things, but never lost faith.  I know that I play a role in how things work out.  My decisions haven't always been the best, but you learn from your mistakes.  My life is a lot better now.  I'm happier than i've been in a long time.  I just finished my novel and that has done a lot for my self confidence.  I'm looking forward to what life has in store for me.  I have a feeling it's going to be good.  I'm just a strong black woman living day to day, trying to Make it happen.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.mtvnservices.com/mgid:uma:video:mtv.com:220873" width="512" height="319" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashVars="configParams=artist%3D976%26vid%3D220873%26uri%3Dmgid%3Auma%3Avideo%3Amtv.com%3A220873%26startUri={startUri}" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" base="."&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div style="margin:0;text-align:center;width:500px;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mtv.com/music/artist/carey_mariah/artist.jhtml" style="color:#439CD8;" target="_blank"&gt;Mariah Carey&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.mtv.com/music/" style="color:#439CD8;" target="_blank"&gt;New Music&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.mtv.com/music/video/" style="color:#439CD8;" target="_blank"&gt;More Music Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5927819874717370189?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5927819874717370189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5927819874717370189&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5927819874717370189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5927819874717370189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/make-it-happen.html' title='Make it Happen'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2301742465911511854</id><published>2008-10-27T16:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T16:32:55.811-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>Random Monday</title><content type='html'>I'm in a random mood today.  One minute I feel good, the next I feel like crap.  This isn't the greatest day for me.  I want to go home and crawl into bed, but I have things to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on some random stuff today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use to like red apples better than green ones, but i've changed my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could work a four day weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite people in the world is in the hospital.  I'm really worried about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Korto should have been the winner of Project Runway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son's a man.  He's going to be 18 in 42 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could really use a shot of tequila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama, I want to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost called in sick this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michelle Obama is fly as hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a vacation!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 4:25 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiramisu is my favorite dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't watch BET.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 4th, November 4th, November 4th...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I absolutely love Gladys Knight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm black and i'm proud!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama could be elected President of the United States in a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got any random thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2301742465911511854?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2301742465911511854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2301742465911511854&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2301742465911511854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2301742465911511854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/random-monday.html' title='Random Monday'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2947707818982146288</id><published>2008-10-24T14:04:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T14:18:55.354-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i&apos;m black and i&apos;m proud'/><title type='text'>Say It Loud!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQIOyELK8SI/AAAAAAAAAH0/K8Cxdsu2rjI/s1600-h/1bp7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQIOyELK8SI/AAAAAAAAAH0/K8Cxdsu2rjI/s320/1bp7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260783567999004962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling good about being me today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQIOaLFhn2I/AAAAAAAAAHk/SODE-b2Qj1M/s1600-h/1bp4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQIOaLFhn2I/AAAAAAAAAHk/SODE-b2Qj1M/s320/1bp4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260783157537513314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my people!  Imagine what we could do if we really made it do what it do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQIOnEqFVTI/AAAAAAAAAHs/1eQRYsAFtGw/s1600-h/1bp6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 306px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQIOnEqFVTI/AAAAAAAAAHs/1eQRYsAFtGw/s320/1bp6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260783379150099762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time we realize how blessed we truly are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2947707818982146288?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2947707818982146288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2947707818982146288&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2947707818982146288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2947707818982146288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/say-it-loud.html' title='Say It Loud!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SQIOyELK8SI/AAAAAAAAAH0/K8Cxdsu2rjI/s72-c/1bp7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5944889167980761726</id><published>2008-10-22T08:02:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T08:29:38.444-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my book'/><title type='text'>I did it!</title><content type='html'>Last night at 11:41 pm, I accomplished something I have been dreaming of most of my life.  I finished my first novel.  The feeling of accomplishment is something I cannot explain.  I'm so excited!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've known I wanted to be a writer since I was in the sixth grade.  It's in my blood.  I have boxes and boxes of things that I have written that no one has read.  It's always been private.  As I approached 40 I became determined to realize my goal.  I knew I was ready, so I sat down and started putting paper to pen.  The ideas flowed easily, like they always do and my baby was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I wrote the last word on the page, I was filled with so many positive emotions that I cannot put it into words.  I've spent a lot of my life doubting myself and not thinking I was good enough.  Usually, I cry tears of joy when something good happens in my life.  This time, I was so happy that I didn't feel like crying.  I felt like celebrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell to my knees and thanked the Lord for blessing me with the talent and creativity that allowed me to even think about writing a book.  I asked for the strength to do the work that will be required to see my baby all the way through to publishing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit i'm a little scared, but i'm ready.  It's time for me to share my work with the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5944889167980761726?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5944889167980761726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5944889167980761726&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5944889167980761726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5944889167980761726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-did-it.html' title='I did it!'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-1971495111527906935</id><published>2008-10-18T17:07:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T18:05:03.750-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy's Little Girl</title><content type='html'>Born March 3, 1968&lt;br /&gt;Daddy said, her name is Tamika&lt;br /&gt;But i'll call her Bugalou&lt;br /&gt;Years go by&lt;br /&gt;Daddy leaves&lt;br /&gt;But his love is still present&lt;br /&gt;Bugalou knows he'll always be there for her&lt;br /&gt;He calls&lt;br /&gt;I'm coming to get you&lt;br /&gt;She's so excited&lt;br /&gt;Daddy's coming&lt;br /&gt;She sits &lt;br /&gt;And waits&lt;br /&gt;And waits&lt;br /&gt;But daddy never shows&lt;br /&gt;Or calls&lt;br /&gt;Days pass &lt;br /&gt;He apologizes&lt;br /&gt;She forgives&lt;br /&gt;He's her daddy&lt;br /&gt;And she loves him&lt;br /&gt;But he loves the bottle&lt;br /&gt;It's the monkey&lt;br /&gt;Attached to his back&lt;br /&gt;Years go by&lt;br /&gt;He's there when he can be&lt;br /&gt;When the monkey allows&lt;br /&gt;The quality of his time is so immense&lt;br /&gt;That the quantity matters less&lt;br /&gt;Bugalou loves him&lt;br /&gt;She's daddy's little girl&lt;br /&gt;Sixteen and pregnant&lt;br /&gt;A disappointment to many&lt;br /&gt;But not to daddy&lt;br /&gt;He still makes her feel special&lt;br /&gt;And says, "The decision is yours."&lt;br /&gt;Grandchild is born&lt;br /&gt;Little Bugalou&lt;br /&gt;He loves her just as much&lt;br /&gt;And she adores him&lt;br /&gt;Daddy now has two girls&lt;br /&gt;Bugalou is now a mommy&lt;br /&gt;Always calling daddy for advice&lt;br /&gt;He's such a good listener&lt;br /&gt;The best advice giver&lt;br /&gt;And friend&lt;br /&gt;And daddy&lt;br /&gt;He's there when he can be&lt;br /&gt;When the monkey allows&lt;br /&gt;He disappears&lt;br /&gt;Reappears&lt;br /&gt;Does his best&lt;br /&gt;Gets rid of the monkey &lt;br /&gt;For a little while&lt;br /&gt;He is himself&lt;br /&gt;Monkeyless &lt;br /&gt;Daddy&lt;br /&gt;But alas&lt;br /&gt;The monkey comes back&lt;br /&gt;They fight for years&lt;br /&gt;And eventually&lt;br /&gt;The monkey wins&lt;br /&gt;And takes his life&lt;br /&gt;Daddy's gone&lt;br /&gt;Bugalou feels alone&lt;br /&gt;She misses her daddy&lt;br /&gt;She talks to him&lt;br /&gt;But it's not the same&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't answer back&lt;br /&gt;He's in a better place they say&lt;br /&gt;It's no comfort&lt;br /&gt;Years go by&lt;br /&gt;It gets easier&lt;br /&gt;She talks to him&lt;br /&gt;And hears his voice&lt;br /&gt;"Don't take no wooden nickels."&lt;br /&gt;She learns to find strength&lt;br /&gt;In his memory&lt;br /&gt;Lives her life to make him proud&lt;br /&gt;Thinks of him daily&lt;br /&gt;Feels enveloped in his love&lt;br /&gt;And even though she still cries&lt;br /&gt;Because she misses him so&lt;br /&gt;She knows he's looking down on her&lt;br /&gt;And willing her through life's challenges&lt;br /&gt;Bugalou misses him&lt;br /&gt;But it's okay&lt;br /&gt;Because no matter what life throws her way&lt;br /&gt;He instilled within her &lt;br /&gt;The strength to survive&lt;br /&gt;And she will always be&lt;br /&gt;Daddy's little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I LOVE YOU DADDY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-1971495111527906935?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/1971495111527906935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=1971495111527906935&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1971495111527906935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/1971495111527906935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/daddys-little-girl.html' title='Daddy&apos;s Little Girl'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2600731311262665420</id><published>2008-10-16T13:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T13:26:45.345-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is stress?</title><content type='html'>I was going to blog about the debate, but changed my mind. I think it speaks for itself.  I'm just trying to prepare of November 4th.  I'll keep it short and sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when I wonder what's going through Barack Obama's mind.  I can't imagine the stress and strain and pressure.  I give the man props.  I wouldn't want to be in his position, but I give him the utmost respect for trying to make it do what it do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SPd5K8CX_WI/AAAAAAAAAHc/2qcDEnzP9XM/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SPd5K8CX_WI/AAAAAAAAAHc/2qcDEnzP9XM/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257804318800084322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck brother!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2600731311262665420?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2600731311262665420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2600731311262665420&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2600731311262665420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2600731311262665420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-is-stress.html' title='What is stress?'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SPd5K8CX_WI/AAAAAAAAAHc/2qcDEnzP9XM/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-2163509330269396351</id><published>2008-10-15T11:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T11:30:23.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange Fruit</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine mentioned this song to me this morning and I couldn't get it out of my head.  Nina Simone's haunting voice, coupled with the lyrics, always makes me cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strange Fruit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven trees&lt;br /&gt;Bearin strange fruit&lt;br /&gt;Blood on the leaves&lt;br /&gt;And blood at the roots&lt;br /&gt;Black bodies&lt;br /&gt;Swinging in the southern breeze&lt;br /&gt;Strange fruit hangin&lt;br /&gt;From the poplar trees&lt;br /&gt;Pastoral scene&lt;br /&gt;Of the gallant south&lt;br /&gt;Them big bulging eyes&lt;br /&gt;And the twisted mouth&lt;br /&gt;Scent of magnolia&lt;br /&gt;Clean and fresh&lt;br /&gt;Then the sudden smell&lt;br /&gt;Of burnin flesh&lt;br /&gt;Here is a fruit&lt;br /&gt;For the crows to pluck&lt;br /&gt;For the rain to gather&lt;br /&gt;For the wind to suck&lt;br /&gt;For the sun to rot&lt;br /&gt;For the leaves to drop&lt;br /&gt;Here is&lt;br /&gt;Strange and bitter crop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As singed by billie holiday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Southern trees bear strange fruit,&lt;br /&gt;Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,&lt;br /&gt;Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,&lt;br /&gt;Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pastoral scene of the gallant south,&lt;br /&gt;The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,&lt;br /&gt;Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,&lt;br /&gt;Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,&lt;br /&gt;For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,&lt;br /&gt;For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,&lt;br /&gt;Here is a strange and bitter cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ktsU01lfzLU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ktsU01lfzLU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-2163509330269396351?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/2163509330269396351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=2163509330269396351&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2163509330269396351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/2163509330269396351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/strange-fruit.html' title='Strange Fruit'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4927973058740639912</id><published>2008-10-14T08:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T08:34:43.322-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not a housewife shared responsibility'/><title type='text'>A Woman's Job?</title><content type='html'>My husband and I attend a couples group every Monday.  Even though we've been together for a while, it has actually helped our relationship.  You can never stop learning about the person you're with because you are both constantly changing.  It's nice to converse with other couples and meet new people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was our fourth time going to this group and I have noticed a pattern.  All of the women in the group complain that their husbands don't help them around the house.  Not one of the women in the group is a stay at home mom.  These are all women who have jobs and careers.  One woman even leaves home earlier than she has to in the morning to take her husband to work.  She also picks him up at the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the lone wolf in the group.  I believe that if we both work it is OUR responsibility to keep our house in order.  Who says it a woman's job to maintain a household that she shares with her husband?  If I bring home some of the bacon, shouldn't he fry it up in the pan sometimes too?  How is he "helping" her if they live together and are raising the same children? Why is it the woman's responsibility to cook and clean?  Do they not eat the same food and sleep in the same bed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have done a little soul searching and I know that part of the reason I am so adamant about shared responsibility is, over the years, I watched my mother cater to men who didn't deserve her.  They took advantage of her warm nature and, for lack of a better word, used her.  If they tried it now, there's no telling what weapon she might use to end their life.  I'll put it this way, being taken advantage of has not warmed her heart to the men of the world.  It makes me sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching this, I vowed never to let a man take advantage of me.  I met my husband when I was 15 years old and always kept this in mind.  I would do things for him, but never wait on him hand and foot.  It took me years to realize I may have gone too far.  He once told me that I didn't do the little things for him that other women did for their man.  When we went to parties, I would never fix his plate.  In my mind I knew he had two hands just like me and could make his own damned plate.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so busy making sure I was the opposite of how my mother use to be that I went too far.  It took me a long time to realize that the little things matter.  There's nothing wrong with making your man's plate or bringing him his dinner.  It's okay to let your guard down sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that all being said, I still don't get how men "babysit" their own kids, or "help" their wives clean the home they live in.  It's not her job.  If it was, she would be getting paid.  What's wrong with shared responsibilty?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4927973058740639912?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4927973058740639912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4927973058740639912&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4927973058740639912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4927973058740639912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/womans-job.html' title='A Woman&apos;s Job?'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-196272652578580242</id><published>2008-10-10T08:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T08:23:18.198-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Friday Funny</title><content type='html'>1. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        2. A day without sunshine is like, night.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        3. On the other hand, you have different fingers.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        4. I just got lost in thought. It wasn't familiar territory.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        5. 42.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        6. 99% of all lawyers give the rest a bad name.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        7. I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        8. Honk if you love peace and quiet.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        9. Remember, half the people you know are below average.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        10. He who laughs last, thinks slowest.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        11. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        12. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        13. I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        14. Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        15. Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7 of your week.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        16. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        17. Save the whales. Collect the whole set.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        18. Get a new car for your spouse. It'll be a great trade!&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        19. Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        20. Always try to be modest, and be proud of it!&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        21. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        22. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand...&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        23. OK, so what's the speed of dark?&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        24. How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        25. If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        26. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        27. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        28. Everyone has a photographic memory. Some just don't have film.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        29. If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        30. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        31. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines .&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        32. What happens if you get scared half to death twice?&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        33. I used to have an open mind but my brains kept falling out.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        34. I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        35. Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        36. Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-196272652578580242?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/196272652578580242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=196272652578580242&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/196272652578580242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/196272652578580242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/friday-funny.html' title='Friday Funny'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-3156704651009156511</id><published>2008-10-07T17:22:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T18:36:46.554-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Nostalgic</title><content type='html'>For some reason, i've been singing New Edition songs all day long.  They are, by far, my favorite male singing group of all time.  I love them with Bobby Brown or Johnny Gil.  I love BBD and Ralph Tresvant's "Sensitivity."  You could not tell me I was not THE Candy Girl. (I still have my album) I know all the choreography for the, "If it isn't Love," video.  "Can You Stand the Rain," is one of my favorite slow songs of all time.  I have gone to at least five New Edition concerts. I love NE from "Candy Girl," to "Hot Tonight."  Their showmanship takes me back to the days when showmanship actually meant something.  I heard they're going on tour in 2009, and guess who will be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been 25 years and New Edition recently received ASCAPS's (American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers) Golden Note Award.  This award is given to artists who have achieved extraordinary career milestones.  New Edition are the Temptations of my time and I never thought they got the recognition they deserved.  Without NE, there would be no New Kids on the Block, no Boyz II Men, no N'Sync, no Backstreet Boys, no boy band craze at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SOveVniZnMI/AAAAAAAAAHE/TB3SWDIsn2I/s1600-h/2606188851_c14bd739b1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SOveVniZnMI/AAAAAAAAAHE/TB3SWDIsn2I/s320/2606188851_c14bd739b1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254537853229702338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met my husband in 1983 and we had so much fun.  The eighties were the bomb.  I had a red and black lumber jack, with the hat to match.  My husband wore kazals and Sergio Valente's with no lenses.  We would go down to Time's Square and see three movies for $3.  It was fun to sit in McDonald's all night and talk and laugh.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rap music was getting it's start and we would go to jams in the park.  The deejays didn't always have enough electricity so they would run a bunch of extension cords from someone's apartment.  An occasional fight would break out and, once in a blue moon, someone might get shot.  It didn't happen that often.  We had fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The music was fun, not violent.  We danced, and flirted, and had fun.  It was a different time.  Things are so violent and sexual now.  Sometimes it doesn't seem like young people know what fun is anymore.  They're so busy seeing and doing adult things that they don't have time to be kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys would walk down the block with their ghetto blasters playing their music as loud as they could.  They would even sit them down and have battles to see whose was louder.  Just like LL, they couldn't live without their radio.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SOvjsvmysAI/AAAAAAAAAHU/9g-iNFeR3dA/s1600-h/Old-school-LL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SOvjsvmysAI/AAAAAAAAAHU/9g-iNFeR3dA/s320/Old-school-LL.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254543748090736642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember dookie ropes and Adidas with the thick laces?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was young, I played outside all day long.  I got upset when I had to go inside.  We now live in the day of the video game.  Kids don't give a damn about the sun.  It's all about Playstation, Wii, and Xbox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when my father use to tell me the music I listened to sucked or I didn't know anything about music.  I would laugh.  Now, I find myself saying the same thing to my son when I hear him listening to certain rap songs.  I guess I feel that way because I was there at the beginning.  I know what it was and sometimes i'm disappointed in what it has become.  At the same time, when a rapper tries to say something in his music he probably won't make much money.  I guess I just miss the day of the MC, and the deejay at the turntable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SOvhTNfNR2I/AAAAAAAAAHM/wrxmvSGwKFE/s1600-h/1429118.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SOvhTNfNR2I/AAAAAAAAAHM/wrxmvSGwKFE/s320/1429118.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254541110412134242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just feeling a little nostalgic.  You may now return to the twenty first century...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-3156704651009156511?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/3156704651009156511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=3156704651009156511&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3156704651009156511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/3156704651009156511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/feeling-nostalgic.html' title='Feeling Nostalgic'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SOveVniZnMI/AAAAAAAAAHE/TB3SWDIsn2I/s72-c/2606188851_c14bd739b1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-7567740708158062233</id><published>2008-10-06T08:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T08:21:16.376-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Voter registration'/><title type='text'>Today's the Last Day</title><content type='html'>In most states, today is the deadline for voter registration.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 20 year old nephew stopped by my house the other day and the first thing I asked him was if he was registered.  He was extremely happy to tell me he registered a few days prior.  I was happy that he was happy. This election has excited so many people.  My nephew and I discussed the campaigns and I was impressed with his knowledge.  He really knew what was going on and said he made sure his friends registered as well and he would take them to the polls if he had to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I registered as soon as I turned 18 and encouraged my children to do the same.  It felt so good when I received my card in the mail.  Voting was a big deal to me.  My mother and sister weren't registered and I did what I could to get them involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama and John McCain (in a different way) have energized people to get out and vote.  There's a permanent voter registration table in the lobby of the hospital where I work and I see people signing up every day.  People I know who never really cared about politics have become informed and we are constantly having discussions about the campaign.  It's wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are only a few weeks left and I hope we can do what, in my opinion, needs to be done.  We can't afford more of the same.  It's time for a change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-7567740708158062233?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/7567740708158062233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=7567740708158062233&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7567740708158062233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/7567740708158062233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/todays-last-day.html' title='Today&apos;s the Last Day'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-5833378570998114537</id><published>2008-10-03T10:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T10:56:25.005-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Independent Woman</title><content type='html'>I watched the debate last night and I was going to blog about it, but changed my mind.  The wreck that is Sarah Palin is just not worth the space.  I'm tired of complaining about her lack of, well, everything.  I may have changed my mind if she would have given a straight answer for at least one of the questions she was asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I respect Sarah Palin's gangster as a woman.  Running for the second highest office in the United States is not a small thing.  It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there like that. I respect all independent, strong-willed women who handle their business.  It doesn't matter whether you have a man.  As long as you make it do what it do you are an independent woman. You take care of yourself and don't depend on anyone else, and stand on your own two.  Do your thing lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An independent woman has her own cash flow, takes care of her responsibilites, and is content and happy with herself.  She doesn't take nonsense, asks for nothing, and usually gives a lot.  Life doesn't scare her and she's willing to take a chance because she has faith in her abilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is born this way.  We all have to go through things to get to where we want to be.  Eventually, you get to the crossroad and have to decide who you want to be and how you want to live.  It's not easy.  I'm still working on it, but I feel myself changing.  I'm coming into my own personal glory.  I love my man, but don't need him.  There was a time when I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had my dependant moments.  The times when I felt like I couldn't make it.  The times when I worried more about what other people thought than how I felt. Those times now serve as the memories that have made me stronger.  I've realized that I cannot allow people's opinions to cloud my judgment or my decisions. My thing is my thing.  If you have a problem with it, get out of my lane because i'm at the point in my life where I will run right through you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.  I see it through different eyes.  My rose colored glasses are now a shade of grey.  Everything's not rosey, but it ain't all black and white either.  I have victory in my sights and it will be mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm independent in so many ways now.  My thoughts are mine, my cash is mine, my life is mine.  I'm standing on my own two.  Yes I want you, but I don't need you.  I'm independent and it feels so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LgSpRUXH3jc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LgSpRUXH3jc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-5833378570998114537?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/5833378570998114537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=5833378570998114537&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5833378570998114537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/5833378570998114537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/independent-woman.html' title='Independent Woman'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731199254031995617.post-4196601611781529797</id><published>2008-10-02T11:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T11:50:31.328-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='novel'/><title type='text'>I Just Want To Write</title><content type='html'>I get up at 5:30, Monday through Friday, and get dressed to go to work.  It's not what I want to do but the bills have to get paid.  These mornings are getting harder and harder.  There are some mornings that I hit the snooze button so many times I lose count.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working for other people is not what I want to do.  I'm a writer dammit!  My book is almost done and the last thing I want to do is help someone else's business progress.  I want to work on my own creation.  All I can think of when i'm at work is how to get the character i'm working on to the end.  I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but time is not allowing me to get there.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want that feeling.  The feeling you get when you know you love what you do, that's what i'm looking for.  I just want to write.  I'm a writer dammit!  It's what I should be doing for a living, how I should be making my money.  I'm so good at it, can't live without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on edge.  It would be great if I could lock myself in a room and write.  I don't care about eating or sleeping, I just want to write.  My husband supports me a lot, but he also wants me to spend time with him.  I'm on the verge of telling him to leave me the hell alone and let me do what I have to do, but that wouldn't be right.  Instead, I ask for an hour before dinner.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to write.  It's all I can think about.  It is the love of my life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being at the end of my novel is like being nine months pregnant.  The anticipation is killing me.  I want to see what my mind gives birth to.  Seeing my book in print is my dream.  I'm so close, and yet so far.  I will be totally amazed when I am officially an author.  I'm already a writer, but being an author will be totally different.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everyone will understand the way I feel right now.  My son's teacher published his first novel and the look on his face when he showed me his creation is the look I cannot wait to have on my face.  It's a look of sheer excitement and accomplishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to write.  I've been a writer all my life.  I cannot wait until the day when I am an author.  It's the day i've been wanting for a long, long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3731199254031995617-4196601611781529797?l=strongblkwmn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/feeds/4196601611781529797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3731199254031995617&amp;postID=4196601611781529797&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4196601611781529797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3731199254031995617/posts/default/4196601611781529797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strongblkwmn.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-just-want-to-write.html' title='I Just Want To Write'/><author><name>Strongblkwmn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943807196468824583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_l77oKl3oxvU/SHd6XxFoxQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/405qZ7ClHpc/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
