All Five Things

I was raised to believe a woman is supposed to be five things......

 

A Maid in the living room

A chef in the kitchen

A lady in the street

A freak in the bed

and her man's best friend all the time.

 

Men have their own set of requirements as well. A man is supposed to be........

A protector

A provider

A listener

A lover

and his woman's best friend all the time.

I was always told that these things are supposed to be what you guage your relationship by. These are just the basics but are among the most important parts of the relationship because these are the things that will definitely break one.

They have to be put in perspective. His strength as a provider isn't about whether or not he drives an escalade but whetehr or not he'll support you mentally as well as financially to the best of his ability.

 

A woman's worth isn't just about how well she looks or sexes you. It's also about her willingness to see your needs and treat them as important as her own.

 

These attributes aren't set in stone either. Non traditional roles and talents are also respected. A woman can make more money and a man might be a better cook and the relationship with still work because the needs of the unit are still being met collectively. My parents both worked but dad just was much better at cooking and laundry and preferred to do that himself. He was also a monster with some marcel irons and pressed most of the heads on our block every weekend.

It's my opinion that the breakdown of relationships between men and women is because not enough of us from my generation got this lesson. We look for the wrong things and take the right things as a sign of weakness. I could go on with my explaination but I want input first.

 

Do you agree with the five things we each should have to offer our partner?

 

What are your thoughts?

Personally, I know I have all five things because I was raised that way. The part that bugs me is that I'm catching hell trying to find someone that brings his five with him. Most are focused on how good they are in bed or how much money they make and are clueless of what comes in between those two things.

Damned shame that someone that could practically teach a relationship class will probably never experience the type of relationship I'm looking for. Such is life. I'm not bitter about it. Maybe GOD has something else planned for me.

 

 

Fatabulous Me II ~ My New Truth

Now this post may be the straw that breaks many of you but I have something I must admit. I'm fat. Not thick but fat. I'm 5'2" of 198 lbs and I wear it well. See, you can look at my pics and tell I have thighs and breasts and all those other things but they just can't convey how thick indeed I am. I hve muscle from years of workouts but I am indeed fat. I have a shape. I don't wear girdles or try to fool the eye. I love and accept myself too much to try to play games like I'm ashamed of my body. I'm like blackstrap molasses. Nice and thick and slow to pour but when that sweet taste finally hits your palate...... mmmmmm!

I am not a sad person. I am not a shrinking violet. I'm just fat. I'm fabulously me. I enjoy my life. Nothing wrong with living to the fullest even tho you can't fit a size two. I'm a woman. All woman. Intelligent, kind, loving and fat. See, a long time ago I realized fat isn't a four leter word but love is. Funny isn't it? I thank Jill, and Monique, Terry, Sherrie and of course, The Queen La for finally letting it be known that fat doesn't mean depressed, repressed, frumpy, dumpy, lazy, ignorant, untalented, ugly, promiscuous, or any negative connotation. It's just fat. Kinda like having big feet. Or a big head.... I would say big lips but we know how much brothers love those. lol I am unapologetic about my size because my size is part of me.

I used to be 235 lbs so I have lost a little weight. Not because I felt inferior or thought I wasn't cute enough, I needed to for my health. Diabetes ain't no joke. Otherwise I'd still be just as fat and stil think I was fine at that size. I know that my saying I lose weight might have gotten your hopes up but sorry I'm still fat. Just not as fat as I used to be.I left all my fat irl pics up because I think I look good n them. Only my avatar is the new look. Yup I was on a roll, cut my hair and permed it too.

I feel for some of you because now you're all disappointed, hoping I was at least a 12 but I'm all 14 or 16 depending on the cut. Others are now upset because they think I'm gonna waste away to nothing. Either side is only viewing me superficially and missing the real person behind what they see. I'm a whole person, not just my cup size( which is the one place I haven't lost much thank GOD!)or hairstyle. I have a lot more going for me than I have even shared here on this blog and I know I have given up more than most. I do it because I want to show the whole person. How I think, how I live, what motivates me, as well as the things that makes my neck itch. I am not a caricature and I refuse to act like one.

Being big and beautiful isn't a bad thing just like being small and beautiful doesn't give one the upper hand. Just ask Halle, and Tyra, and all the other thin and gorgeous women that have had a rough time in relationships. I feel for them. It's a woman thang, not a fat/skinny thing.

I can't say I'm sorry because I'm not. I'm a fine hunk of chocolate if I do say so myself. I don't mind if I'm not your type. Every body isn't for everybody. We can still be cool. I'd rather just be friends with most I meet anyway. Just know that I am gonna be the self same outspoken, vivacious, sensative, down- to -earth sister I have always been. I'm still gonna write about what I'm thinking. Peek at your pages, flirt with the men, chat with the women. Play my favorite music. All the things that makes life worth it to me will continue. And I'll still be fabulous regardless of my size.

Frontin' Is A Habit.

I know that is a humorous title but the situation is far from funny. Frontin' has become a way of life. Sometimes it seems that everyone is so busy trying to play fantastic that I haven't met a real person in quite some time. I meet a lot of personnas but not real people. People love to blame the media for everything but the truth of the matter is that the tv isn't forcing you to buy things that, most of the time, you don't even use. Materialism is the religion you choose for yourself. If the GOD you worship is a Prada purse or a Dolce and Gabbana shoes maybe you need to rethink your values a bit.

Don't get me wrong I like nice things just like the next person. Maybe even more so. The difference is that I won't go hungry so that I can buy something unless it's a necessity for my kid. Notice I said N E C E S S I T Y. Having my hair popped or buying that new dress is not a neccessity. Sorry. I live within my means, which are kinda limited because of the current state of things but that is just a fact of life. Even when things weren't so tight I still wasn't into buying things I can't afford. Sure I have some serious art in my home and on my page and yes I own them all. I didn't buy them, I inherited them. My dad had it like that.... I don't. If I could afford to stunt like my momma and daddy, I'd be doing it up. Fortunately, I was raised to understand that things are just things. My parents worked hard to acquire their lifestyle and I simply have to make some changes in my career choices so that I can do the same. I'm not a truly late bloomer, I just had disctractions & responsibilities (check the post "Damaged Goods" for the run down on that one) but I have not been desititute either. I have done just fine so far because I never let materilism control my sense of self worth.


I guess my point is that I musta missed a memo. Somehow somewhere I didn't get the one that told me that in order to be a person of value I had to be a person of means. And if I didn't have the means it was ok to fake it at all costs to common sense. I'm really not that upset about it either. The way I see it that is one loop that I'm glad I got left out of cuz it means there is one more hoop I don't have to refuse to jump through in order to have joy.

Dear Mr Ten Percent,

As I have listened to you rail about what’s wrong with our community from your perch far from it, I have started to see similarities between you and other racists. Yes, I accuse you of racism. I have no choice but to do so. By definition, that is what you have become. You spew the same prejudicial and demeaning rhetoric as any other racist there fore I see no need to exclude you from their rote. In fact, I attribute the recent increase of racial attack and intimidation to you. You have opened the door to such hatred by expressing your ignorance and disdain for your own people. I care not where you came from Mr. Ten Percent, you are now so far removed from us that you are no longer part of our solution. I’m not sure you ever were.

I do not begrudge you your personal success. I am thankful and grateful that you have found your own way up and out of poverty. I appreciate the hard work it took to educate yourself in a system that fought you every inch of the way. I even admire your ability to refuse to accept defeat, leap over obstacles, and to persevere through all adversity thrown in your path. I just resent your absolute refusal to see that you are still in the minority. I am ashamed that you would attack the least of your own as if it’s their own fault that they haven’t been properly educated, in many cases, from the elementary level. I am appalled that you hold your own people to a higher standard as if they have the resources to make change without YOUR help. It sickens me that you behave as if they are solely responsible for all that is wrong within the community. I am absolutely disgusted by your refusal to reach back with anything other than harsh words and fury. We don’t need another hero to berate us. We need a debriefing. We have been the casualties of war in this country yet we are treated as criminals for being shell-shocked. Anyone that looks upon the behavior seen in our community with impartial eyes would see that many of our people are walking wounded in need of attendance. They need medical and psychological assistance as surely as any refuge from Iraq or Afghanistan does. Unfortunately, you are not equipped to provide that service because you are still in need of debriefing yourself. You are just as wounded as the rest of us… you just fail to see it from your own personal piece of the dream.


How dare I judge you? I dare as you dared. I know you well. I almost became one of you. I’ve sat wit you on panels but couldn’t get you to visit a middle school in the neighborhood. I’ve spoken to you in planning sessions about the mistrust that our people have towards the very institutions that you insist must be the playing field for all possible interaction between you and the rest of us. You set us all up for failure then rail at our laziness for not being able to get things done. You limit free forums to a few hundred seats knowing that a few thousand are not nearly enough. You refuse to even promote these forums on a large enough scale because “they won’t come anyway”. Lastly, you allow these forums to become whipping posts for these that do dare to show their faces, the disregard, disrespect, disdain for their lives, and struggle so palpable that it assures that those few that have managed to attend will not return to any other offering of a “community resource” forum. I call you to task for offering help with a sledgehammer. I judge you for that.

I understand that you are angry. You have a legitimate reason to be so. You are just directing your anger at the wrong people. Be angry about the school systems that graduated legions of children that can barely read and write. So much so that graduates from certain school districts are automatically placed in remedial courses when they enter college. If they enter college at all. Be angry that hundreds of children across many states failed the graduations tests in math and science, not because they were lazy or cut classes, but because those children were never taught what the state considers standard. The fact that our children are being penalized for the failure of their educators is revolting. They don’t need you to tell them they are lazy and ignorant on top of that! Have you ever witnessed a child’s pain at learning that they have both the grades and more than enough credits to graduate but can’t because a test tells them they don’t know enough information? I have. I cried right along with them not knowing what else to do. This is the same thing they did to my generation and the one before me. In trying to gain answers, I discovered that I couldn’t pass the test either. I was also never taught what I needed to know by the current standards and I never cut school a day in my life. Another kick in the head, many educators failed the test as well. That’s right Mr. Ten Percent. The teachers failed it too! Please tell me how it’s possible to teach what you don’t know. Yet you blame parents and children.

I am also very angry. I am just angry with the right people. I am angry at a system that failed to properly educate generations of children. I am angry that their failure is being listed as my own. I am angry that all I got in response to the revelation was a mere and insincere apology. I’m angry at myself for not being able to do something about it. Lastly, I’m angry with you for not caring to even find out what is really happening here before you went on your rampage of words.

We are sending our children mixed messages. We tell them to take personal responsibility but we reward them with the same attitudes we have for those that don’t do a damned thing to better themselves. No wonder so many are stuck. They are damned when they do and damned when they don’t. With odds like that, what difference will anything you or I say truly make? Only when we can answer that question, and present a viable and realistic alternative, can we truly help our people make some real progress.


Are you willing to do that or are you just speaking for sound bites?





Sincerely,


Neccessary Brown

I'm Just Saying.

I guess it's time I make a my true motives known. I have perpetrated the most diabolical of all schemes ever set into motion on the net. I'm surprised at my own audacity. I shock myself. The nerve of me to try to be a friend. You know, the honest, cool sister that just wants to connect with like minds. The tomboy that grew into a bonafide girl but didn't lose her edge. Yeah that one. That's me.

We used to be like that and I kinda miss y'all. We were all cool until we turned 10. Then my hormones kicked in, my body cut fool, and all of a sudden some of y'all forget how many times I out ran you playing police chase. How when we played "heroes" I always played Christy Love because she kicked butt. How I used to break the big worms with my fingers because you were too squeamish to do it yourself. How we used to jump our bikes over home made ramps. Skipped rocks, laughed, talked, fought... with and against each other, just hung out. I miss that.

Somewhere along the line we ended on opposite sides of the gender war. By default I lost you. You started looking at me funny. Stopped sharing things with me. Started leaving me out of stuff. Lost your minds when I rode my bike..... and I still don't quite get that one. You forget that I know how you think because we spent so much time plotting out our lives together. I know how you felt, be cause you'd tell me. We'd both stand there looking stupid because I didn't understand what the hell other females are talking about either. Let along do the theings they did. I can't wear makeup, hate fake nails, and don't even get the point of fake lashes.But I got locked out. My membership revoked, just because someone thought I looked kinda cute in a skirt. It's not like can blame you... during my exile I got to meet and have some serious conversations with some of these females. I still don't get it either.

Well the time has come for change. I now lodge a formal protest. I got kicked out of the club, I didn't leave voluntarily. I refuse to pretend that I did any longer. My brothers, and cousins, and few male friends that I managed to keep know this. They watched me go kicking and screaming as the rest of you shut the door on me. They let me chill with them but it wasn't the same. The male population stopped taking me seriously and I am not gonna take it quietly anymore. I still love gangster movies. I can still play one hell of a game of cutthroat spades. I've even seriously considered boxing so I could fight AND get paid at the same time..... that was temporary insanity. I'm not tying to work out like that anymore.

I wish it could go back to how it used to be but I know it can't. I am a tad bit too whiley and quite a bit of what I like would bore you to tears now. You'd probably treat me like a lady and expect me to be a certain way. It probably wouldn't work but I wish it could. I'm still plain ole Nessa. I miss just being your friend.

Something We Can Feel

Originally posted to another blog I have, this is exactly how I feel this morning.
I hope you enjoy. Sunday, March 25, 2007
Something We Can Feel
Have you ever had something you really needed to say but had no one you felt comfortable saying it to? I am in that place right now and it's throwing me for a loop. It's not like I don't have people in my life, I have GOD, friends, and family. Men like me well enough so it's not that either. What I just don't have is that one person that gets me no matter what. Someone that understands my language and knows how to let me speak my heart. Someone that lets me into his world and makes sure I'm comfortable with my role in his. I need someone to just be because that's who he is. I get so tired of knights shining up their armor thinking that they will fix my world using the usual methods. This damsel is in a different kind of distress.
My friends and family think I'm crazy because I've walked away from "perfect relationships" to the point that they almost had me thinking I'm just scared to commit. That's not it. Perfect loses it's shine when you realize that it's just not right. I don't want to live in someone else's dream life, I want and need my own. I need more than just good enough and closer than close enough. I need to be able to be the flawed person I truly am. To be able to be who I am completely knowing that, to him, who I am is his perfect fit just like he is mine. Someone that can sleep through my snoring, loves my crazy laugh, doesn't mind when I get nervous or upset and start chattering away. Someone that can tolerate my love for onions and garlic. Who understands that, to me, the occasional veg out has been elevated to an art form. That can bear the worst life has to offer simply because we're facing it together.
All I want is complex simplicity. Something that is so easy that it flows through both of us with the subtlety of an atomic bomb. It's angry, joyful, peaceful and chaotic. Sometimes it's even beligerent and stubborn, others it's gentle and kind. It's always fiercely forgiving. That's what love is to me. It can't be bought, faked, or manipulated. It can only be felt as it consumes everything in it's path. Somewhere there's a man that can take me to that place and be as much to me as I will be to him. I just hope we find each other before we stop being open enough to recognize who we are.

What do you mean by that?

This is a vent because now I know why so many are lonely. I think the idea of love has gotten so distorted that people have lost focus on what it really it is.
Romance isn't flowers and candy, it's a thought process that drives you to buy the flowers or candy. It's The caring that makes a woman cook for her man knowing he's hungry. Not because she's his servant but because she's his and he's hers. True romance doesn't change when you have kids because even tho you're tired you can hold each other as you sleep. See people confuse the action with the state of being.
Too many see catering to each other as being weak, whupped, and all things negative. I feel sorry for those people. They are the ones that will never know what real love feels like because they aren't open to it. Love isn't just about what I can get from you, it's also about how I can care for you. How we care for each other. There's no shame in being a kind, loving and considerate partner. People just need to understand that you have to look outside yourself in order to see what's right for the both of you.
When you bathe you don't wash just one hand. Both spend equal time under water. The same thing applies in relationships. If you are going into it thinking about all the things you won't do for love, how can you ever show someone all that they mean to you? If they mean anything at all?
I was blessed enough to witness the last 25 years of a love like that. They had nearly 40 and death is what parted them. They had the bomb love. One that didn't mind when they both gained weight. One that cared for each other when it was needed. One in which my father cried at the thought of losing the one woman that meant everything to him. I want a love filled with joys and pain. Ups and downs. The trials of life. TI was blessed to be nurtured in that environment and that, more than anything else, is why I'm single. I have a certain understanding about life and love because of how I've viewed it. Until I find a man that understands all the things that I do, I'll stay as I am

Damaged Goods

This was how I was referred to recently. A certain person decided he was no longer interested in me because I was damaged and he’s not into fixing women. Personally, I found it strange that I didn’t become damaged until after I made it clear we wouldn’t be sexing at the end of the night but I digress… His reasoning being my age, the number of kids I have, the ages of said kids, and the fact that I’m not where he feels I should be financially by my age and driving a Porsche or some such mess. I am not a good enough woman because I can’t afford a Lexus at 38. All I could say was wow. He was not interested in knowing any of the very valid, and at times noble in my opinion, reasons that have led to those things being the way they are. IMO, he wasn’t interested in me. Just the me he wanted me to be. That’s some mess but he’s entitled to his feelings. I just know he’s very wrong about me. So what are my valid reasons? Here’s the run down.


1) Marriage and kids – The reason I am only 38 and have already been divorced for 10 years is that I got married when I was 19 and he was 22. We stayed married for 8 years and have two beautiful daughters to show for it. Hold up! I have three children you say. Yes. Indeed I do. My son is the product of a puppy love situation I was in from the time I was ten until I was sixteen. We broke up not knowing I was pregnant. He was born two months before my seventeenth birthday. Three children explained. I also took a girl in her senior year of high school that I also consider my daughter. She was with me for the better part of two years but has decided that she needs to move on now that she’s grown. During the time she was with me, I struggled to support her as I did my other children. Completely. Including co-signing for her apartment when she went back to school. It’s all good though. I feel I did what GOD wanted me to do. That’s why I have a son 21, daughters 18 and 15 and I sometimes speak on another daughter that’s also 21 but not a twin. She’s in and out, mostly out these days but that’s her choice.


2) I am not rich. I never was. My parents did well for themselves but GOD bless the child. I didn’t enter the workforce full time until after my divorce. Meaning, I worked part time on occasion but for the most part, I was a housewife. I did the things that my ex-husband and I felt were better for our family. I took care of our home. The children didn’t go to daycare until after we were separated. The older two did spend a little time in nursery school but that was to give them time to play with other children aside from their siblings. After my divorce, I worked a few BS jobs then got hired on at Greyhound. I loved that job. After 9/11, travel slumped and I was downsized. Because Cleveland is a city that has taken more than it’s fair share of hits, I am just about to make what I used to make. That’s not so bad either. I’m not hungry, homeless, and my needs are still met.





3) Even with all the other things I had going on, I still managed to be the primary care giver of my mother when she was stricken with a major stroke. My mother had to retire from Internal Revenue because she had a stroke at her desk. I made the decision then that as long as she was able to stay home, I would take care of her. It wasn’t about money. It was about love. She was my mother and no one else was in a position to step up. I felt I had no other choice. She could well have afforded a good nursing home. Not only had she retired from IRS, my dad was still employed at GSA at the time. They had damned good insurance too. I wasn’t guilted, coerced, or blackmailed. There was no motive other than she was my mom. During the time she was with me, I took care of her, my husband, my kids, looked out for my little brother who was still home with my parents and made sure dad was doing ok as well. Not once did I ever act as if any of them were a burden to me because they weren’t. I as young, near burnout, dealing with a lot of stress, and doing it basically all alone but I kept my family together. I was only 24 when my mom finally went into a nursing home because I could no longer care for her. When she did, I felt as if I had failed as a daughter. My father passed away the next year. My brother got married and had a family of his own. Finally, I got divorced myself. All of this by 1997. I was just 27 years old.


Therefore, my question is “where did I become damaged?” I know my choices were the right ones to make. The only ones to make if you’re a loving, decent person presented with situations like those. My sacrifices don’t make me less of a woman. They prove my merit. The fact that he didn’t take the time o get to k now who really sat across from him is a greater loss for him than he knows. Some men truly can’t identify a helpmeet, even when she’s sitting across from him.

Let’s be honest here. A woman that put aside her dreams of college, not just for a man, but also to take care of her mother and family is not damaged. Could and should never even be considered in such terms. She’s a blessing to the person that’s lucky enough to get her in the trenches with him. Sure, I can live in a palace and be more than happy. I can just as easily live in the gutter and help you work your way up and out. I am that kind of woman and I have the good memories as well as the battle scars to prove it. I am not alone either. There are quite a few good women out there being overlooked because we don’t wear Prada and Jimmy Choo. It’s sad how little content of character matters these days.



My story proves that black women aren’t the only ones that overlook goodness when seeking a mate. It’s an epidemic these days. For the record, I know I’m not damaged. I shared this as a means to make people think about a scenario such as this one. Most of the time, we are so quick to deal with the surface that we don’t even realize that every single one of us has something that may not seem attractive to others at first glance. No matter what it is. An illness, a dream deferred, age, race, size, economic status…. Whatever for it takes, there’s a trait each of us has that might make someone judge us unfairly. If you a little deeper you may see that a seemingly negative trait may have just been a greater act of good. Or it may just be what it appears. You have to take the time to get to know that for yourself.

Any man that wouldn’t even allow me to explain about my mother isn’t the man for me. Anyone that would think that I should have let her go to a home isn’t for me either. The age I was when I bore my children, married, all of that is part of hat made me who I am today. I’m a damned good person and I’m actually proud of what I have done. Most of us should be so lucky as to say they have lived without regret. In that scenario, I most definitely can. That woman raised me and loved me. The best way she knew how. Along with my dad and a few others, she was one of the greatest and most complex people I have ever known. When she died, I hurt deeply but I knew she was free from her pain. I also knew I did right by her. That comforted me more than anything anyone said or did. I’d be damaged if I hadn’t stepped up. That’s a guilt that never goes away.

As for Mr. Man, he’s no loss. The only thing I mourn about people like that is that they just don’t get what true love and commitment is. I wish him well and hope he finds what he’s looking for. I also pray that he’s mature enough to accept and cherish it when he does.

The introduction - Part II

I don’t expect you to care about what I write here. It’s not like you know me. Or even care to. I just have something to say. I have been living on this planet allowing everyone to tell me about me. I knew better than to think you had a clue… you just kept thinking and studying and did not nearly enough listening and hearing. You’d watch the way I walk but wouldn’t say a damned thing in my defense when you knew I was being lied on. Or beaten or hurt in some other way. So since you decided to study and assume. I’ve decided to educate. I’ve decided it was time to actually tell you the truth about what you think you know. At least as far as I fit in the picture. You are going to hear me from a novel point of view. My own. I’m Neccessary Brown. This is not a game, this is my life.


I have good reason to feel this way. People. People will make you want to cut fool on them sometimes. I have no clue as to why peopls have made themselves the authority on who I am and what I’m allowed to be. I just know I can't let it continue.

I’ve listened to “expert” after damned “expert” explain to me why I am the way I am. Whether they made excuses, spewed hate or disdain, preached with an agenda, or was just plain trying to sway me to their way of thinking. It's as if my life experiences didn’t exist or didn’t matter. I have had everyone, their dad, mom, sister, Uncle James and first cousin Cephus from Meridian, try to tell me who I am and what I am about. I’m just tired of listening to it. I’ve been through some things. Some serious type things. Some of it was good, some of it was bad, very little of it was average. Some of it so bad that if there really are other people out there that can understand all this I really don’t wanna know.


I am not speaking for anyone but myself. That would make me no better than those I rail against. I just need someone to hear from me, in my own words, what it’s really like being me. What I think. How I feel. What matters to me most. You don’t know me but you will. Just hold still. This is bout to be one hell of a ride.

The Introduction

I guess the best way to start this off is to properly introduce myself. As much for my own edification as anyone else's. Sometimes we lose sight of who we are in the grand scheme of things. In such case it helps one to refocus in order to gain perspetive.

My name is Vanessa Lynne. I'm the sixth of seven children born to Daniel and Merle. I have four brothers and two sisters. All but one is much older than myself. I was born in West Islip, New York but lived in Wyandanch. We moved to Cleveland when I was 8 but one brother still lives on Long Island.

I have always been a thinker. I was always somewhere reading something. From Anais Nin to Sam Greenlee to Nikki Giovanni to Alex Hailey. Masters and Johnson, Kensey, Iceburg Slim. There is no rhyme nor reason to what you'd see me with. Basically, anything with a cover is fair game. It is also what sparked my own interest in writing. I love it, it's like air to me. Something that I must have in my life even if I never show my work to a soul. For at least the past 9 years, maybe 10, I have had people approach me about my writing and finally I'm ready to have a piece published. My first piece is still in progress but it's a beautiful baby, at least in my eyes. It started as a merely a novel but ended up one hell of a commentary. I'm proud of where it's going but it's been hard getting it together.

Like every other artist I'm sensative bout my sh!t. It's hard to put it up for critique. Don't let my insecurity stop you from letting me know what you think tho. I need feedback, both negative and positive, as I hone my craft. If I am going to write professionally, I have to toughen up for editors, agents and critics.

In closing I'm just me. Plain old Nessa as I like to call myself. I don't know how to be anyone else and refuse to try. I have the same failings as any other human, I am just not ashamed to admit them. I hope to use my time here making friends, sharing views, speaking truths, blowing hot air, learning from my people. I extend an invitation to my brothers and my sisters. Let's take this ride together and come out better on the other side.

This is why i write

To abandon my innermost
on pages and reams and webspace
simply because I have something to say
that cannot always be voiced
who wants to cry in the middle of a busy street
but the traffic on my page doesn't bother me one bit
I let go with joy dreams and random thought
constructing semi sentences
fragments that tell more than novels
are how I find escape from all things
far too common place