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