Bad Habits

“Have you ever loved somebody, so much that you were just to blind to see that all of the pain that they were causing you? Have you ever loved somebody so much that you went against all the right things you should do?” Destiny's Child: Bad Habits

It is so funny the profound affect that certain music has on person at any given moment. One song; one tender relaxing love kissed, broken hearted ballad holds within it harmonic melody the power to transport one through time, and space. In An instant every sad, blissful, pathetic, romantic, whimsical moment of your life can flash before your eyes stirring up emotions that you haven’t felt in years, days, hours, minutes; next thing you know your trapped in a enclave of your past/present emotional baggage. Evaluating every thing that you have ever been through, and suddenly you find yourself at a cross roads. Thinking of your past mistakes, and misfortunes; wondering if you had the opportunity would you go back and change them. And if you are one of the lucky individuals your actually sitting in the midst of a defining moment, at the very point of breaking down. Tears streaming down your face, voice trembling, mind racing, heart beat thumping against the cavity of your chest, and you have but a simple choice to make.
Them Or Me?
Though this particular song seems to be about love, and the Bad Habits that we fall into when we love somebody. On this night it translates into something so much more profound for me. Perhaps it is because I am on the dawning of a new Year. Reminiscing over the past eleven months, three weeks, one day, thirty-one minutes and counting. Posing over choices I have made, people I have/still love, and sacrifices that I am soon to make. What ever the reason, the music brings me to a pause here I set clicking away on the keys of my mini composing a serenade to the masses of the world wide web, hoping that someone will understand the depth of my thoughts.
Lots of times in our lives we fall into these routines, habits if you will. Sometimes their good habits; like working out or eating the right foods. Sometimes their bad habits; likes smoking, or drinking in excess. The good habits are the things that help us grow, and make us more efficient productive people. While the bad habits are slowly endangering our mental, emotional, or physical stability.
Typically we don’t always recognize our bad habits as being bad at all. Instead we make excuses for why we carry on doing them. “I smoke because my nerves are bad.“ or “I drink to take the edge off.“ and then we carry on doing them despite knowing that they are causing us harm. Still there are those bad habits that hurt us even more than we sometimes know.(that’s not to say that we aren’t aware that they are hurting us) You know the kind of habits that I am talking about; the ones that penetrate the flow of our daily lives. That bad habit we have of loving! Loving People.
Yes, love is a bad habit. It stems from an emotional connection to family & friends alike. Which through out time can turn into feelings of self doubt, and inadequacy that gets buried deep down inside of us. Usually pushed off on us by the very people who claim to love us back yet their constantly pushing their own self inflicted disturbed ideas of friendship, family values, and love off on us. This Bad habit of loving people can sometimes be a good thing if the people we love , love us in the way that man should love, strong, without prejudice, without jealousy, without pretense, and unconditionally. But when love is done wrong; full of r3estrictions, doubts, pretense, and expectations then it isn’t really love. And love like that has the ability to hurt more than a dull knife through your heart.
Love is a bad habit that we all have, but that we don’t often see the danger imposed by loving folks until their tainted vision of love has dominated, and damaged a great deal of our lives. I call this emotional bad habits; the things that we do subconsciously in the name of love, being loved, and loving others. People do so much damage to themselves trying to prove to other people that they love/respect them, or trying to prove their worth to someone else.
I know because I have done it myself, and I am ashamed to say that I recently caught myself doing it again over the Christmas Holiday. I looked up and I was again trying to prove my worth/love to family, friends, and a would be possible partner. All the while coming up short in satisfying the needs/wants/ expectations/desires of the people that I felt deserved not to be disappointed, all the while pushing myself into a deeper Holiday depression because I wasn’t living up what I felt they all deserved from me. Yet not once did any of these people who all claim to love me try to ease my frustration/guilt/sadness/stress.
And isn’t that how it always is? Falling into this emotional bad habit. Loving people, and trying to prove that we love them. Or feeling a sort of obligation to love them.
I am here to tell you, and myself. CUT THAT SHIT OUT! We have to learn, that we have no obligation to anyone, except ourselves. Life is too short to be wasting all your time trying to prove to someone; anyone, family, friend, mother , brother, lover, husband, or wife, that you love them. Or that your loyal to them. You don’t owe them any explanations. The sooner you realize that, then the sooner you will break yourself of these bad habits. The sooner you will be rid of your guilt, your anxiety, your devotion. The only devotion you have is to The Most High and yourself. Not one earthly creature. When we finally stop falling into these cycles of guilty love, then we will be happier with ourselves and have the ability to achieve so much more. Love; but love distance. In this New year make a vow to break your bad habit. Learn to love yourself, and when you do. You will see that everything you want will start to come to you, because you aren’t exerting energy on trying to LOVE other people.
Lets Break our Bad Habits in 2010.

Sincerely
Rafael Solece

Watch Chris Brown's Music Video for THIS CHRISTMAS

Merry Christmas Everybody I hope this brings a smile to your face beacause it brings a smile to mine.

The Secrete To Life

My Grandmother use to bake apple pies from scratch. I know because I can remember being in the kitchen with her while she baked them. We would mix and roll the pie crust by hand, while the sliced apples simmered on the back of the stove, in brown sugar, brandy, cornstarch, lemon juice, vanilla extract, and cinnamon. That smell was the best smell in the world! The apples simmering on the back of the stove that is, that was the best smell. My grandmother use to bake the best apple pies too. They were better than any pie ever made. I might be bias because of the fact that she is my grandmother. After all I grew up eating her cooking, so most things don’t compare, despite my culinary background, I still think she is the best southern cook this side of the Mason Dixon line. Watching her work in the kitchen was like watching the miracle of child, full of anticipation, anguish, and you couldn’t wait until she was done.
Even as my grandmother got older, she still managed to prepare my favorite meals, despite not having the ability to maneuver around in the kitchen as good as she use to. By the time my grandmother was in her sixties she had had surgery and one of her legs had been removed which left her in a wheel chair. So the way that she prepared certain dishes had changed quite a bit. I didn’t know that this applied to everything.
I found this out one fine day in my late teens. I had to have been at least seventeen when this horrible fact came to my attention.
I was over my grandmothers house one day. By this time in my life my Grandmother wasn’t living with us anymore. She had found a nice handicapped apartment across town. Any way we weren’t doing anything in particular, just visiting. That’s what we did at grandma’s crib, we hung out. She had just finished dinner when out of no where she says “lets make a pie.” Well of course I screamed “an apple pie! Yea Buddy!” while jumping up and down, clapping my hands like a three year old. (let’s not forget I was well into my teens, and I think a senior in high school) I jumped up off the sofa and ran into the kitchen. I went into the refrigerator and began to pull out all the things that we needed butter milk , flour, eggs, butter, milk, apples,. When My grandmother stopped me.,
“Sweetie” She said. “what are you doing?”
“Getting what we need to start the pie crust”
My grandmother rolled up to me in her wheel chair with a tender smile on her face.
“No honey.” She said” “Look up there in that freezer and hand me them Pillsbury pie crust. The one in the red box.”
At first I was kind of confused. I really didn’t understand, But I did what I was told because it was my grandmother after all. I figured she knew what she was doing. I handed her the pie crust. She unrolled it and placed it in the pie pan. She tapped wholes in the crust and placed several pads of butter on top. While she did that I began to peel the apples, but half way through the first apple she stopped me again.
“No, no, no, no, no Baby” My grandmother said to me again.
“What Grammy” I turned and looked at her. What was she stopping me for? I thought we were making an apple pie?
“Baby, put them apples back in the pantry, and look up there in that cabinet right behind you. then grab them two green cans.”
I turned around and snatched open the cabinet that she had been pointing to. I reached up and grabbed the only two green cans sitting on the shelf. When I pulled them down I read the labels, Golden apples, Is what it said. I handed them to my grandmother. She quietly opened the cans of apples. She dumped them in the pie pan. She squeezed a lemon over the heap of mushy looking apples, then added one cup of sugar, some vanilla extract, and two cap fullest of brandy.
I know I had to be looking at her like she had grown two heads. Because my mother who had been watching us burst out into a fit of laughter. I leaned back against the counter and watched my grandmother finish off her fake apple pie. She topped the it off with the pie crust, cinnamon, a sprinkle of sugar and several pads of butter over the top. Then she slide the pie into the oven.
For some reason I couldn’t make myself move to help her clean up. I just couldn’t believe what I had just seen. It was simply sac-religious for my grandmother to do such a horrible thing. Make a pie using store bought ingredients, not a damn thing was made from scratch. Something inside of me felt like I had been robbed. Not once in all of my childhood had my grandmother ever attempted such a feat., As she cleaned off her mess, and tossed the empty cans in the trash I swear I felt tears swelling up in my eyes. It was as if someone had told me all at once that the Easter bunny had died, Santa wasn’t real, and the tooth fairy was just my aunt Dee sneaking into my room at night after I had gone to sleep. Right there all of my childhood had died.
My mother walked over to me, still chuckling softly to herself. She wrapped one hand around my waste and pulled me very close. I think that she could sense my hurt, anger, and frustration. Then she said to me in a very motherly tone.
“You got a fake ass grandmother, she can’t even make a real apple pie.”
It was then that my heart dropped several decimals. Of course my mother was play with me, but I was actually very hurt. How in the world did this happen? I wondered to myself. When the pie was done, my grandmother pulled it out of the oven. Then she sat it on the counter to let it cool. I stood in the kitchen and I watched that pie, wondering how I was ever going to look at my grandmother the same after watching her make it the way she had. She was no longer my own personal Betty Crocker, No she was some one else. Later she cut me a peace and handed it to me. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, I took a big fork full and was pleasantly surprised. It tasted just like my grandmother’s original made from scratch pie. When I looked at her and asked her how did she make it taste the same as before. My grandmother simply said to me.
“I made it the same way I made all my pies with lots of butter, and a little bit of love.”
It was then that UI realized what the secrete to life was. BUTTER.

Bernadette

Bernadette loved her name. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue. The way it cut through the atmosphere, carving a path to existence. It was a name of importance. A name of power. A name of means. It said to anyone that heard it, that she meant business. That she was somebody. She had always been just a thick, little, dark-skinned girl from the south. She was always told that she was second to all others: if not because of her weight, then because of her skin tone. She’d been told that no man would ever want her. That the only thing she was ever good for was cooking, and eating.
She’s got a cute face for a big girl. She’s pretty for a dark-skinned girl.
That was the story of her life. That she was just alright! That was until Jalyn came along. He was the first man, the first anybody, besides her sister, to ever tell her she was pretty just the way she was. He lifted her spirits and gave her confidence that she had never known she could have. And in giving her his last name he’d given her the greatest gift anyone could have ever given her. He’d made her somebody. He’d made her Bernadette Dobbs: and she wore that name like a badge of honor, happily, and proudly.
She looked down at the two carrot diamond ring sitting on her wedding finger and tried to imagine what it had looked like before she had ever put it on. It didn’t even feel like an added peace of jewelry, but more like an extension of her limbs. She knew that the flesh beneath was probably the lightest part of her body. For it hadn’t seen day light since she’d said I Do. She new that taking it off would be like losing some part of her body. It would be painful, and crippling.
That ring meant more than just the simple vows that had been said on the day it was placed on her finger. It meant that she was a everything. Marrying Jalyn had been her catapult into success. His love had been the reason for her rise to the top. Now she wasn’t just the thick girl with the cute face. She was a savvy, sophisticated business woman. The wife of an important man. To take it off meant that she had to give all that up, and that was one of many things she wasn’t willing to do. The buzz of the intercom brought her back to reality. She looked down at the blinking red light on the telephone. Then pressed hard against the button beside it. As she shook off the over whelming feeling of terror that had started to come over her.
Yes Reese
Mrs. Dobbs your ten o’clock is here.
Send her in.
Bernadette turned her mind away from the uneasy thoughts . She was happy to have something to occupy her mind for a moment. Her business, the one thing still thriving in her life. Her small consulting company. Her own one woman show, where she was in total control and nothing went wrong as long as she was at the helm. This meeting today was particularly special. She had been looking forward to it ever since receiving the friendly phone call from the unexpected place.
She and Rachel Moore had been rivals at best in college. Sworn mortal enemies since the day they had met. No one could have ever mistaken them for bosom buddies even though they had so much in common including Jalyn Dobbs. A relationship eternally built on discord, she couldn’t understand after so much time why she was so persistent on meeting with her. Suspicion and intrigue played a heavy hand in Bernadette agreeing to their afternoon liaison. But there was no doubt about it, her guard was raised high. Bernadette was no fool when it came to the games that women played. After all she was a woman, she’d played those same games blindfolded and won every round. She straightened her blouse and slipped her shoes back on. She moved her hand over her silky brown curls. She wanted to ensure her perfection. Image, was key always in business especially with a client meeting such as the one she was sure she would regret agreeing to. When a woman like Rachel Monroe came calling it couldn’t possibly be social.
There was a soft rasping at the door. Bernadette stood up behind her desk . Her eyes jetted over to the mirror on the wall next to the door, she had placed it there for moments such as this. She skimmed her appearance once more, scouring her make up for flaws.
Come in.
The frosted glass door swung open. She smiled at Rachel from across her desk as she sauntered into the room. She had not seen her since college. She was just as beautiful now as she was then. God, she’s aging well. She thought to herself. She was stunning in a rose-colored business suite. Her radiant amber colored eyes sparkled in the florescent lighting above her. Her white teeth gleamed between her voluptuous ruby red lips. Her dark chocolate curls accentuated her bright yellow complexion. She was everything Bernadette remembered her to be and everything she hated. A light-skinned skinny woman: the exact image that society tried to make black woman believe was the only image to be.
She felt more anxious now to know what business she had with her. Had she only come to show off her frighteningly, exquisite, physique. As she took the seat across from her, she tried to read her body language. Why had she been so hell bent on this meeting? They glared at each other for a moment. Bernadette felt an, all to familiar surge of rage coarse through her veins. An over whelming feeling to reach across the large desk between them and slap the smug grin she hated so much from her face.
It’s been a long time Rachel. Bernadette was fighting the pulsing urge as she leaned back in her big white chair.
What brings you into my office today?
Always right to the point.
You know I was never one to beat around the bush. She retorted, smugly.
Believe it or not, that is exactly the reason I’m here. Rachel smiled softly. It was humble, sincere, tender, and friendly. Bernadette didn’t trust it.
Really, Bernadette raised an intrigued brow. Do tell then.
As you very well know. I work for the Fulton County Commissioners office.
Yes, I remember reading something about that in the Trinity News Letter, How is Synthia by the way?
Good, she sends her regards. Rachel’s smile brightened.
It’s actually on both Synthia and my own behalf that I’m here today. Bernadette felt her stomach tighten. She’d walked right into that trap apparently. She cut her eyes at her sharply.
Really. Her tone was inquisitive and probing..
Yes, as you’ve probably heard Synthia is thinking about throwing her hat in the running for the mayoral elections.
For the city of Atlanta? The surprise leapt from her lips before she had a chance to stop it.
The one and only.
Bernadette slide forward in her seat. Rachel had captured her undivided attention. Synthia McNair was a very strong political figure in Georgia. She started out as Super intendant of schools. Then became the Fulton County Commissioner. A woman who had come from lower middle class of America and was climbing politically to the top. A black woman at that. It had been rumored for some time that she was going to run for mayor of Atlanta. Ever since her first term in office as Fulton county commissioner when she’d chosen to go toe to toe with Sonny Pruit, then Governor of Georgia, over his unwillingness to give pay raises to the hard working government employees. But the whisper had long since been dispelled as the wishful dreams of middle working class citizens. But a to be seating in the presence of a member of Synthia’s inner circle, and to hear it coming straight from the hoarse’s mouth, was to say the least stunning.
She’s been thinking about it for quite sometime now.
Does she have a date scheduled to announce her candidacy? She could not hide the excitement rising in her voice. She felt exhilarated, giddy almost .
Yes. We were going to announce her at the next public commissioners meeting next week. I’m so pleased.. I’ve meet Synthia, and she is in my opinion one of the fiercest woman of our time. One of the finest politicians that I’ve ever encountered. Hell she was the best thing to happen to Fulton County in a very long time, since T.P.
I agree. Rachel smiled .
I know that she will make a good candidate, and I’m sure that this is a very exciting time for the people in your camp?
This is a very exciting time for Atlanta Bernadette. Rachel’s voice climaxed. Synthia will be the first woman to ever run for mayor of this city.
And if she wins the first female mayor of Atlanta.
If? Rachel’s voice squeaked. She sat up a little closer in her chair, so that her heels were planted firmly on the ground. You don’t think she has a chance?
Of course I do. But we are talking about Atlanta. After all Synthia is black.
William is black.
He’s also man.
You don’t think a black woman will be received well?
I’m not saying that Rachel, but this is still the south, I believe in Synthia. I love her politic’s and what she stands for. She will defiantly be a formidable apposing opponent for any man that might choose to throw himself in her way, but we must be realistic.
Rachel nodded her head in silent agreement.
I mean she already has the woman vote, that’s sign, sealed, and delivered. The labor pool
is in love with her. She already proved to them that she is on their side and willing to fight for them. That was a smart move.
A very smart move. Rachel agreed. Synthia knows what it’s like to be a state worker. She’s been in the trenches. She was there, and the people know that. I personally feel that we have more than just a fighting chance. All she needs is the right people, fighting for her.
I can’t argue with that but she already has a Ruthless woman like you. No pun. Bernadette, eyed her after the back handed compliment.
None taken. Rachel smiled.
But with you at the helm of her flag ship, I believe she could do it.
I think so too. Rachel’s lips curled up into a devilish grin. She narrowed her eyes as if she had spotted something tasty and it was time for dinner. Bernadette knew that rancid grin. She prepared herself for her attack.
I think, She began slowly, no doubt choosing her vocabulary cautiously. Synthia would have an even greater chance of getting elected if she had TWO ruthless woman on her team.
Bernadette understood now, why Rachel had brought her this information and so willingly dropped it in her lap. She hadn’t come to ask for her support financially, she was here to enlist her help on the campaign. Bernadette sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her calf bounced up and down beneath her desk. Clever, clever Bernadette thought to herself. Rachel was no fool she knew how to do her job well.
I want you to join our team Bernadette. Rachel said finally after the silence had settled over the room for a long time.
Really, and how does Synthia feel about this?
She loves the idea, she thinks you’d be a wonderful addition to the team. So do I. You’re a formidable force around this city, having you marshal this battle ship is exactly what the doctor ordered.
So what would my position actually be? Your advisor?
The idea even sounded ridicules coming from her own mouth. She was not a follower, Bernadette was a leader.
Oh no, Bennie Baby. You’d be at the head of the pact, right up front with Synthia and me calling the shots.
We’d both be in charge of her campaign?
You got it. A fifty, fifty partnership.
Bernadette was stunned by the revelation. She couldn’t believe the proposition that had just fallen into her lap. To be at the head of a mayoral campaign. Win or lose, it was a win, win for her. William Cambell was still sitting in office, and he’d no doubt be looking to add new blood to his cabinet if re-elected. He was the favorite of the black and white majority. He’d done a lot for Atlanta. His polices and crack down on crime had changed the face of the city. But Bernadette was no fool. She knew exactly the angle Rachel was positioned herself for. Bernadette had a personal link to William Cambell’s inner circle. She knew intricate details, and was privy to vital information, having her working on her side was check mate.
By the way, how is Jalyn?
Rachel’s eyes darted back and forth between Bernadette and the picture angled on the corner of her desk. It was an obvious, all be it perfect nudge in the right direction. Rachel was no idiot. She had done her homework long before scheduling this meeting. Bernadette smiled softly. Then leaned back in her chair. She contemplated the positives of being on a major campaign such as this. It had a lot of positives, and very little negatives. And even some of the negatives weren’t all that negative. She smiled seductively and the light glimmered on the against her glossy lips.
I’ll do it.
Good. We can get together tomorrow over lunch and discuss going forward.
Rachel stood up. Her lips were now fixed into a huge Cheshire cat grin. She had accomplished her goal. Now she could go back and deliver the good news to her boss, and possible celebrate her victory. As she disappeared behind the door and her silhouette showed through the frosted glass. Bernadette looked down at the picture of the happy couple. She gazed into the portrait at the man she loved still. Her decision would hurt him so. The corners of her mouth turned up, and her heart skipped a beat. What a blow to his male ego. The woman he had once professed to love forever was leading the opposition. Jalyn was not going to be happy with her decision. How was she going to break the news to him?

My Name Sake

Lots of people ask me all the time is Rafael Solece My real name. The truth is; yes it is. As real as a name can be. But honestly my name at birth was Zerrick-Rafael; last name unimportant. Zerrick-Rafael was the name that was given to me the day that my eyes opened upon this world. My mother had absolutely nothing to do with it. If she had her way, both my brother and I would be named after character’s from the novel Gone with the Wind. My mother’s reasoning for this is not one that I completely understand, but maybe you will. It all starts with my mother’s name, which happens to be Tara. That was the name of the plantation that Scarlett called home in the Novel. My name would have been Ashlee. My younger brother would have been named Rhett. I know right, but it is my mother. I usually don’t question here ideals, but it kind of makes one want to say; Really, and what exactly had you been smoking when you came up with that brilliant idea?
So you see, I truly appreciate the miracle of quality pain medication. It saved me from a horrible name sake. I do believe that I was one of the lucky ones. Unfortunately I can not say this for every child who’s mother was under the influence after child birth. They didn’t have angel’s looking out for them when it came to birth rights.
With my mother down for the count, swimming in euphoric after birth bliss. My wonderful grandmother and Aunt Dee took the liberty of bestowing upon me my mantel, which would inevitably shape the man that I would/have become. My first name Zerrick was a gift from my Aunt Dee. My middle name Rafael was the gift my grandmother gave to me. They didn’t know it then but they had given me more than just a name. They had actually inadvertently given me a birth right with two dynamic words. I mean honestly you have to admit Zerrick-Rafael has a star quality to it. When I added Solece at the end of it I had sealed the manifestation of the man that I am, and the powerful meaning of my name really began to take shape in my life. It is amazing to me how the meaning of a name only magnifies the gift that The Most High endows a person with.
Zerrick is polish: Spelled (Zarek) the translation means “God will Protect” or “God’s protector”
Rafael is Hebrew: spelled (Raphael). It means “healed by God” Raphael is one of Gods Arch Angel. In the bible Raphael was also God’s messenger, He was sent to earth to deliver many messages. B
Now Solece did not come until many years later, in my adult life. When I decided who it was that I wanted to become. It is a derivative of the word solace which means Peace.
Loosely translated my name means God will protect and heal the messenger of Peace or it could be translated as Peaceful messenger protected by God.
I love my name!

Year of Solece

As some of you may know: I have been working diligently for the last twelve months trying to secure my self a place in the literary info structure. I can tell you all that it has been a trying sequence of events. Yet despite the controversy, the doubt, the set backs, and the financial difficulties, I can still say that it is all worth it. No, I am not holding the bended pages of my manuscript in completed book form yet, and though I still have ways to go in the promotion process, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. That light makes me want to pull forward. So, I am still pressing along.
Though I must tell you all, that my last set back nearly caused someone their life. You see; I am self publishing my first book. Partly because it just made sense, but only after going through the disappointing process of searching for a publisher and literary agent. Problem with being a first time novelist in this day and age is that people are scared to take a chance on unknowns, and I am fairly unknown, even now amongst the many talented faces of my fellow twitters and blogger’s. Rafael Solece is one name among a thousand. Several random thoughts, intertwined in a web of many. But My ultimate goal is to stitch out a place for me in the grand scheme of things.
It may have taken me a year to finish and perfect my first project, but I am quite sure that I have found my calling. I am quite sure that I have mastered the art of innovation, I think, no: I am positive that 2010 will prove to be the year of Rafael Solece

Thankful

I can honestly say that this morning I am full of thanks. I feel enamored by what "The Most High" has been doing in and for my life this pass week. Coming into 2010 I looked on with anticipation. I knew that I was about to step out of my season on seeding and into my harvest. I grew so much emotionally, spiritually, & mentally, that so how I felt that a break through had to be emenant. Even in this first week if the year The Most High had so many challenges for me, and I think that I handled them with dignity and much maturity. Still there much that needs to be achieved, but I plan on blogging everyday, and writing every free moment that I get. Why? Well because that is how it has, need, must be!
Rafael Solece

This Angel's Demon

The sound of him crashing through the closet door didn’t pay homage to the force of Lamont’s blow across his face. Lamont’s knuckles had collided with Jo-Jo’s eye; sending him flying off of his feet. He’d fallen against the oak doors, and it had come crashing down behind him. Now Jo-Jo lay on top of it dazed by the happening that had just occurred. He looked up at Lamont who was standing over him. He was enraged and yelling at the top of his lungs. The Baritone of his voice echoed through the rafters of the loft that they shared together. He stepped forward and Jo-Jo pulled back. Nervousness had replaced his normal secure sensibility.
Lamont was still yelling that fact that he had done something wrong had not even entered his mind. He was unaware of Jo-Jo’s pain, and in the midst of his rage he didn’t seem to care. What he was angry about seemed more important, than his assault. But JO-Jo could no longer hear the words that were coming out of his mouth. Although Lamont’s lips were moving and he made grand gestures with his hands; there didn’t seem to be any sounds omitting from his voice box. Jo-JO stared into his face and somehow the man he loved seemed to have dissolved right before his very eyes.
Jo-Jo quickly pulled himself to his feet. Rage was coursing through his veins like a river through the middle of a forest; steady and with dodilligence. Lamont was still talking but he didn’t care to hear what he had to say. He turned around slowly and made his way to the back of the closet. He had to get away from Lamont. But Lamont followed Jo-Jo through the closet into the bathroom.
“Where the fuck do you think your going?” He screamed. “I am talking to you.”
“Please Lamont you might want to give me a minute right now!”
Jo-Jo was standing at the bathroom sink examining his swelling eye in the mirror. He could see Lamont advancing on him in the mirror. He spun around quickly and threw his hand in the air.
“Stand down Lamont!” He hollered, but before he had a chance to react Lamont had thrown another hard right at him. It landed across Jo-Jo’s left jaw, but this time it didn’t knock him off his feet. He had braced himself for the blow, and he quickly reacted this time. He came up with his left hand cocked and landed a heavy blow to Laments right side. Lamont fell back against the wall. Unlike Jo-JO he had not been prepared, and his retaliation had taken Lamont of his center. A small growl erupted from Lamont's lips and he came at Jo-Jo with all his rage. Jo-Jo felt his attack was eminent so he was posed for a fight.
Lamont swung with his left fist and Jo-Jo weaved out of his way. He hit Lamont hard in the rib cage, and then popped him again across the face. Lamont doubled over from the pain. Jo-Jo pushed pass him toward the bedroom. It was time for him to leave. Jo-JO knew better than to stay in situations that had heightened hostility. He needed to remove himself from the situation before it escalated out of control. He at least had learned that much in the academy. He snatched his coat off the bed, and rounded the corner to into the hall way. Halfway down the stairs he felt something hard strike him in the back. He fell to his knees and tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs. Suddenly there was a sharp pain to his left side. Through clenched eyes he could see Lamont, standing over him. JO-Jo could only assume that Lamont was kicking him in the side.
Lamont raised his foot to stomp Jo-JO in the stomach, but Jo-Jo chopped him in the knee with the side of his hand, Lamont fell backwards and tumbled down the steps. He heard Lamont scream, and then the sound of the wind being knocked out of him. Jo-Jo pulled himself to his knees, He looked over the banister. He could see Lamont lying at the foot of the stair case.
“Lamont, are you ok?” He screamed to him but there was no answer.

“Officer….Officer Jones,”
Jo-Jo looked up at the man in uniform staring down at him.
“I am sorry, I didn’t understand.”
“Are you sure that this is everything that happened?”
“Yes exactly the way that it happened.”
“And are you sure that you haven’t left any of the details out of your statement?”
“Yes, I am sure.” Jo-Jo answered the officer asked him again.
“Ok…my sergeant says that you can go for, now.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you okay to go back to your home?”
Jo-Jo looked up at the officer and with as much fight as he could he tried to hold back the tears swelling in his eyes.
“You did say that he died on the way to the hospital didn’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then I don’t think I have anything to worry about then yo.”

To Be Continued….

Confessions Continued:Dwight

I always knew that Dwight was a mess. He had those same eyes that I use to hear my mother warning my sister Liz about. I use to hear her say That man’s got some dangerous eyes. Never trust a man with dangerous eyes, that always look like he mad about something. Them the one’s mad at the world and feel like it own them something. Those are the type of men that will try and get what they feel like the owed from you. If I never trusted anything my mother said, I should have trusted that. If was one thing my mom was hardly ever wrong about, it was men. And when I meet Dwight and saw his eyes. I should have run away in the opposite direction screaming, because he had those exact same eyes my mom use to talk about. His eyes a deep dark brown color encased within a blank white pupil, and slightly slanted so that they looked like they were hardly open. His brow always hung low as if he was scowling, and when he stared at you it sometime felt as if he was burning a whole right through you. When I had first meet him, it was his eyes that had first attracted me to him. At that time to me, they were seductive and alluring. If only then I had known what I would grow to know later. That in fact hiding behind that scowl and those eyes was something vicious and vindictive.

I should have known from the beginning that we just wasn't going to work out. The honeymoon phase of our relationship, you know the time when you first meet and are all lovey dovey, that lasted all of a week. Before I knew it we had problems and not minor problems, no Dwight and I had full blown issues. He’d moved in with me four days after we had meet, yes this was normal for a homosexual relationship. After a month he’d lost his job, and I was footing all the bills. (I know, signs, but sometimes we’re blinded by our hearts, or lust. I was blinded by both) But I am not sure he ever really loved me, at least I know now that what he loved about me was what I could do for him. That ain’t love it’s convenience. But three years into it I was determined to make it work, to support him (literally) and to be a good lover. Despite Dwight’s selfishness and he had always been selfish when it came down to our relationship. It was his way or the highway. That was partly my fault. I loved him (at the time) so I always gave him what he wanted, if it made him happy, Even if it meant me not being happy and adding more stress into my life.. That’s just the way I was, I never believe that he would ever do anything deliberately to hurt me. That was until he did.

The day started out like any other, with a fight. Dwight had been begging me for weeks to go with him to look at this car he wanted. The problem with him wanting it was that he couldn’t afford it, Dwight still didn’t have a job. He had been out of work for the last six months and he didn’t have any prospects. Not that the job that he had before was a great one. His checks were barely enough to buy groceries not that he did. He spent his money at the club while I spent every penny of my checks to maintain our comfortable living situation which had gotten harder to do since he’d lost (gotten fired) from his job and he was now eating in to my pay check for his extra curricular activities. Now he wanted to buy a car so he could go gallivanting off into the night with his friends. Which meant he definitely wouldn’t ever be at home, he’d always be out in the street, and he’d never looked for a job. Lets not forget the car note would be another bill that I would have to pay. I wasn’t having it!

Come on Sugababy, this is a great deal.
He called me sugababy when he really wanted to con me. Hell nawl, not this time, I just was not going to give in to him this time.
Dwight we can’t afford to buy another thing.
I snarled as I searched the kitchen counter for my glasses. He was sitting at the counter in his boxers, looking enticing in a pair of boxers and no shirt, a huge plate of my scrambled eggs and French toast in front of him. My specialty, his favorite.
Sugababy, we need a new car. Look at last night.
I cut my eyes at him. He wouldn’t won’t to mention last night to me.
If I had my own car you won’t have to wait for me to come get you from work.
No, I stopped looking for my glasses and leaned across the counter. if you would have pushed away from the card table and been at my job on time. I wouldn’t have had to wait for you to pick me up. Don’t blame that on our car situation blame that on your irresponsible, selfish ass.
He stared at me with that blank look on his face, the one he always got when he was trying to figure out a way to make what he did right.
Why are you so hostile.
He asked softly, I surmised that he couldn’t find a way to justify his actions, so he went another route.
Dwight I waited outside my job for you for almost an hour, You didn’t answer any my phone calls, then when you finally showed up you had some punk in the car with you. Not cute
That’s why I need my own car.
Seriously,I wanted to say why so you can drive your punks around and not have to worry about being anywhere your suppose to be, like at home or looking for a job, instead I said. No Dwight we can’t afford it.
We can use that money you got hide in that separate account as a down payment.
I was headed into the living room to grab my bag, but that made me stop in my tracks. How in the hell did he know about my account?
What account?
The one at regency bank
I turned around quickly
Have you been snooping through my shit?
No, I found it.
How,
I found the bank book in the desk
My desk
Our desk
No Dwight, that’s my desk I paid for it.
I didn’t mean to say that, and I usually did’t say things about who paid for what, but I was in no mood to be diplomatic.
It’s in our house.
Really, is it?
What’s that suppose to mean.
This time his eyes narrowed and he zoomed in on me like a he had radar.
Nothing, I have got to go to work
We ain’t finish talking about this car
Yes we are, no car.
How just gonna make a decision for our lives like that.
I making a decision for my life right now, I can barely afford to maintain the bills of this house, and I make DAMN good money, so why in the hell would I take on another bill.
Maybe if you cut out some of your activities then maybe we could afford it.
Cut out my activities, like what Dwight, I cut my spa treatments down, I don’t go out anywhere, what do want me to cut out eating.
Well you are gaining a little wait
Yes he did say that, I ain’t exaggerating there.
Maybe YOU, could get up off your lazy ass and get a damn job.
I been looking for a job.
In between, scratching your ball sack, hanging at the fucking club, and screwing every fag you see.
What the fuck is that suppose to mean
Dwight I am not stupid by a long shot, and you ain’t as dumb as you look. I know what your doing when I am at work, and when your at that club. I put up with you because I love you, but the love train stops here. You want that car get a job, and get it yourself. It better be a damn good one too because you and I both know your credit is shot to hell. I will see you when I get off work.
Where you going I need the car.
Take a bus.
I didn’t stop to listen for his reaction. I didn’t care, I was feed up and completely over it and him. So I left him standing right there in the living room in his boxers. By the time I got home I was over our fight and all I wanted to do was climb in the bed next him and lay in his arms. But of course what I wanted was never what I got. Dwight wasn’t at home of course. I looked at the clock on the wall in the living room it was 9pm. I was sure that I knew where he was, and if he was there then he wasn’t coming home soon. So I grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator and headed into the bedroom. I am not sure what time I fell asleep, and I am not sure what time it was when I finally woke up, but it had to have been extremely late at night or very early in the morning when I was woken up out of my sleep by the sound of something or someone falling in the living room. I didn’t see any one scaling the three stories to my balcony just to break into my apartment. Jason on the first floor had some pretty nice shit. I looked over to my left and saw that Dwight still hadn’t come home. Maybe it was him in the living room. He was probably drunk. I thought to myself as I made my way into the living room.

What I saw is what broke me right down right there.

To Be Continued

MyBooVideo

My 2nd you tube Video. A spolken word peace about the man I lost but never really had

Doubt the Course: By Rafael Solece

Someone asked me today "Do I ever doubt myself?' They couldn't have asked at a more terminal point than at that very moment. I was already going through some issues. I was stressed about my book pre-release. Frustrated about the funding for my Book Listening Party, and worried about how I was going to pay my bills. I was scared that the groceries in my cabinet weren't going to make it through till I got paid again. Most of all I was worried about all the people in my life whom were depending on me to make things happen, and I was scared that I might actually fall short this week. SO when he asked me such a simple question I was one deep breath away from breaking down, bursting into tears, and sobbing uncontrollably into my coffee cup. (Something in me said not to breath. So I held my breath for ten seconds) I looked him dead in his eyes and I said softly and with as much convictions I could muster: I no more doubt myself than any other person who has ambitions and goals. It's not doubt that I feel more so than it is me trying to maintain a sense of urgency and certainty. He nodded his head and went back to the task of prepping his coffee. But as we sat there listening to the sounds of Christmas music play above our heads, I thought of my dreams, my goals, my ambitions, and I tried my best to keep those tears at bay.

If you follow me on twitter then you know my struggles. You know that I have worries, that I have fears, and that I constantly doubt myself all the time. There are those that would look at me and think "he thinks he owns the world." But that's not it at all; my confident air is a cover up for the fear that sometimes swells up inside of me. I am just a brother who is trying to make it happen for me, but there ain't no outline for what I am trying to achieve. People sometimes think that I know exactly what I am doing, but every step I take is a guess. Nothing is calculated about anything that I do, and my justification for the result of said decisions made in my life is that "I am exactly where I am supposed to be, and exactly where God wants me to be."

If that is true why do I feel like I am standing in the middle of the forest lost and without a compass, a map, or a guide? Is this how taking risk is supposed to feel? Is this how life is suppose to feel; completely frightening, and out of my control? If so then I have succeed at least at that, because that is exactly how I feel. I sometimes wonder how people get pass the struggle. It seems so insurmountable at times, and at other times it just feels dangerously crazy what I have decided to do with my life, with my career.

But isn't that what I wanted to be different to stand out? I mean honestly I have always been on the outside looking in at the so called regular people. SO what makes where I am now any different. Of course the safe road would be to just work at a "job" until retirement came time, but then I would be stuck doing what someone else wanted me to do and completely unhappy. I may be a tad bit discouraged now, but there are those moments when I am completely happy and enamored by the projects that I am working on. When actually money and bills are the furthest thing from my mind.

I wish I had more of those moments then the stress of it all wouldn't weight so heavily on me. Despite the fear, the anxiety, the frustration, I wouldn't change my course at all. Writing is my life, so I choose life.

Confessions of a Black Gay Man

By Rafael Solece

People ask me all the time why I moved to Atlanta. It seems to be the first question on the dating questionnaire that all men give. I give all sorts of reasons why. Usually I say I got a job offer I just could refuse. That's not completely untrue. But it also isn't the entire truth. Or not the Real reason I moved to this budding metropolis. I could say it was because of all the phyne men floating around in the city. Or I could say it's because it's the best place for a black gay professional who's trying to make his mark on the world. But all of these would be lies. I really moved to Atlanta for LOVE…

Love, I use to love, love; and everything that had anything to do with it. The thought of Love use bring a tingling sensation to the back of my throat. It made my heart beat in triplets and it would cause this little song to play in the back drop of my mind. (I use to love that song) God! How I use to love, love. I even use to love to see love in action. The way two people looked when they were enamored with one another. How they gazed longingly in to each other's eye. The way that they would whisper little thing to each other, like they were telling a secrete that the rest of the world wasn't allowed to know. I use to love to watch lover's hold each other. But I use to especially love to see the way they talked silently with their eyes, in that special language that only lover's really understood. (I remember what that was like too)

Oh how I use to love, love.

But I don't love, love anymore. Not like I use to, at least not in the way I use to. Now the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. (Yes, sick to my stomach.) When I think about how you go through it; love, and it just ends up hurting you. That's what loving love does to you. That's the real reason I am in Atlanta because guess you could say, I ain't in love with love anymore. You can blame my Ex Dwight for that. For me, He has completely and utterly destroyed any lingering thoughts that love could or ever will exist for me, or between two men period. I guess you could say he broke my heart. Or maybe he just gave me a realistic view of love.

 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Letter To Anonymous

By Rafael Solece

Recently I have taken a lot of flack from people about my anger with this whole Disney Black Princess foolishness. And at first it was all good. I knew when I first composed the blog that it might rub some people all wrong. After all Disney is very American and Mom's apple Pie. SO I knew it would be like verbally attaching the President or spitting on the Flag, Naturally people would get upset. But I didn't expect to be assaulted so viciously because of my personal feelings. After all it is my opinion that Disney has misrepresented this whole first black Princess. But yesterday a comment that I received on my blog really took me aback. I was quite upset about it, simply because the person really tried to make it seem that I was inferior and misinformed.

The Comment: Did you even see the movie/ she's not a princess in the beginning AND she's not the daughter of the mayor of New Orleans. Stay off soapboxes because you don't seem to know what you're talking about.

Let me say this first of all this is going to be a very interesting post. That whole comment really pissed me off. Because home girl, home boy, old man, who the fuck ever really doesn't know who I am. Bitch I am Rafael Solece and this is my blog and I can stand on any soap box I wish. So allow me to pull my soap box out now, stand on top of it, and commence to reading you your rights Mr. Anonymous.

Look people maybe my rant early last month was a tad bit over zealous, and might I add I was a little angry. So I had not done all of my research I just came home and wrote an angry mans blog. But honestly, research or not my rant was not without merit. Disney's is still in my opinion not doing their complete best by us.

Now to Anonymous; let me say first of all that no to answer your question: NO, I haven't seen the movie! It has not yet been released and won't be till tomorrow November 25th, Funny thing is Disney hasn't even been promoting the damn Film as much as they promote all their other animated movies. However I have read a leaked copy of the script, the press release, the story line on the web and I have watched several of the promos for it as well as listened to the critiques of the movie. So I am quite aware of the story.

Disney's The Princess and the Frog is set in the backdrop of the early 1920's during the Jazz age. This is I am sure so that Disney could use the era as a muse for their musical arrangement. (Smart on their part but still a mess.) Tiana Disney's would be Princess and Heroine of the film is a maid/waitress/mammy who lives and works in New Orleans French Quarter. (No she does not start off as a princess, but honestly that is a load of bull. Most of Disney's other Princess's all started out as Princess's, but I digress) Tiana is supposedly a hard working girl trying to stake her claim in the world and she is working the night that she meets, said prince turned into a frog. She is dressed up in the ball gown of the woman that she works for; looking very much like a princess and the frog mistakes her for a princess and asks her for a kiss. So Tiana obliges him. When she does, she turns into a frog too. Because she IS NOT a princess and the curse is passed on to her. She spends the better part of the movie as a frog; trying to find a way to be turned back into a human being, not to mention helping the said Prince solve his own problem and saving his ass. When he should be sweeping her off her feet. That ain't a Fairytale Disney that is life as we know it. (There are so many racial nuances to this movie that make it wrong on so many levels. Yet you people are so hurt that I am even speaking about Disney in such a bad light that you refuse to see it. Wake up, and get off me for speaking my mind)

So there is the story of the Princess and the Frog.

Now as for Mr. Anonymous: as to your prognosis you are so right to say that TIana isn't the daughter of the Mayor of New Orleans. When I made that statement, I wasn't trying to state facts I was angry and being sarcastic. I am really going to need you to learn to recognize the symptoms of sarcasm Mr. Anonymous. These are skills you will need to have to better asses when people are demeaning you or certain situations. (I am demeaning you now. See this is called sarcasm. loll)

But honestly senior Anonymous I have every right to stand on said soap box today or any other day. Disney is pulling stunts with this whole princess thing. It is true Princess Tiana does not start out in the movie as a Princess ( which is kind of ass backwards considering in the true storey fairytale The Frog Prince the actual person who breaks his spell is a true Princess) So at what point does Tiana become a Princess, and actually break the spell? The setting of said Fairytale is during the 1920's, here in America, where we haven't been a part of a Monarchy since we broke away from the British in the 1800's. The setting for this movie is not long ago in some far off kingdom. What Monarchy existed during the 1920's and what black man was king during that time period? Is she also in an interracial relationship? From what I understand most countries no longer had kings and/or queens at that time; well maybe they did but as figure heads only!

What really disturbs me about this whole Disney black Princess situation is that nobody is even paying attention to Disney's blatant disregard for African America roots and/or heritage. They act as if we didn't exist until the 1920's. When clearly we had Kingdoms and African Folk Lore/Fairytalee that themselves Parallel Grimes Tales. Honestly problem with Disney has nothing to do with what they are trying to achieve. My issue is with the amount of effort and or thought that they put into their First Black Princess. It seems to me half hearted, and it really does tap dance on my last nerve that they are basically getting away with it because we as black people are so starved for something positive that resembles us just a little bit in Mainstream American Media.

I say if you're going to do it, do it right or not at all. Thank you, and Good evening This Morning.

Check That Boo!

Lesson Learned is a Blessing Turned

By Rafael Solece

Music has power. It has the ability to take you to places in your imagination, in your memory, in yourself that you thought you could never go. It has the unique ability of being able to restore and recall memories, or emotions that you thought were long gone. Most of it has the power to break you down or build up. There have been many song s throughout the course of my life that have had some significant to my life at some point. Directly mirroring the anger, pain, sadness that I was feeling at that time in my life; and it was that music that brought me through whatever it was that I was going through.

When my grandmother died it was that song "Mama" by Boys-II-Men. When I was a teenage pining over love it was Brandy "Sitting Up in My Room". When I was experiencing my first heart break/break up it was Jagged Edge "He Can't Love You" Through my first secrete crush it was Patti Labelle's "If Only You Knew." When I was falling for my first love it was Luther "If Only for One Night" and through my first major grown up Relationship it was "SuperStar" Luther again.

I am sure we all can go through the memory banks of our mind and think of songs that sang volumes to us at certain points in our lives. I definitely know that I can; as you can see. But there are some songs that echo so much wisdom that they get us through so much more in love, because the lyrics in them just don't speak to pain, hurt, love, loss. But instead it speaks to almost every aspect of life, or at least speaks volumes to what is going on in this season of your life. That song for me right now in my life and has been for the last two years has been a cut by Alicia Keys the queen of the Keys as I have dubbed her. The song "Lesson Learned" It started out as my break up song when I was trying to leave my Ex. But it quickly became the mantra for all that I had been through in my life. For everything that I had learned, and experienced during my growth as a child; adolescent, teenager, adult, Man of God! I call it my spiritual Song. I have several spiritual Heart songs but this one, this one brings me through. So I listen to it quite often.

True this song has a very deep and sentimental value for me, because it really has been my fight song through so many moments in my life for the last 2 years. But the song itself resonates on so many levels about the lessons of life. About how the things that we go through are nothing but test, and those test are God's teaching methods in this here classroom, that we call life. As I am sitting here writing this and it is playing in my ear buds, and as the tears are welling up in my eyes, I am thinking of my own story how this, it's lyrics were a blessing to me, and still is on so many level's. One of my favorite lines of this song is in the bridge.

"Life perfect , ain't perfect if you don't know what the struggles for; Falling down ain't falling down if you don't cry when you hit the floor; it's called the past cause I'm getting pass and I ain't nothing like I was before: you ought to see me now: yes I was burn but I call it a lesson learned." Alicia Keys

It is the most power verse in the whole song. Yes we go through thing s but if life was all roses and butter cups; how much of a life would it be? What kind of person would you be? You need mountains, you need hills. You need valleys. You need the things that happen to you in life because they are the things that mold the makeup of you. And those things make up the story that will inevitably give you wisdom, give you courage, and give you strength to be able to deal with anything that may come your way. Because you got through the things that came before. But the journey of your life you must understand is not really for or about you. It really is about your story true! But it is your story, your valley's, your hills, your mountains, your struggles, your triumphs, your successes, and your failures; it is all of these things that will be used by The Most High to bless, encourage, save someone else.

Our trials, tribulations, our successes, our struggles, our getting over, are our stories, those stories are our testimonies, and our testimonies are blessings to someone else going through something in their life. The things that we go through in life are hard, and yes they are meant to teach us things. To teach us how to survive, how to love, how to be humble, how to be patient, how to pray… But as much as our struggles are for us, they are more for others. Sometimes The Most High takes you through things so that your story can encourage and strengthen someone else. Or sometimes simply to let someone going through something know that they are not the only person going through.

I mean honestly think about the last time you were going through a situation, and you were down and hurt and discouraged. Don't you remember God sending you someone to you to help you through? They didn't hand you a way out, but they handed you their story and they were going through a hard time to, a situation like yours; maybe even worst. But they had a smile on their face and they were persevering. Or they had come through it and they were telling how they came through. Hell, maybe they were just telling someone else how they had come through. But you were listening intently maybe unintentionally. But they're story encouraged you on. You remembered their disposition. You remembered their joy. You remembered that they were surviving,

You would be surprised at how many times you've actually been going through something and God has used it to affect someone else's change, and struggle. That time you were telling your story to a close friend and that friend told your same story to another friend going through a similar situation and because you shared your story unknowingly someone else found the strength to preserver, to survive, to fight, to win, and to achieve. You don't know that because of you someone decided to go to rehab, to go back to school. To change careers. You don't know who is watching you and who took strength from your struggle and it made them strong.

Our lessons Learned are just that; our lessons learned but they are blessings for someone else. They words of encouragement. Pats on the back. Love letters to someone's soul. Remember that what god brings you through it is your gift of love to bring someone else over. Embrace life, and learn your lessons with humility. Remember that your Learned are someone else's Blessing Turned.

Love is a “We” Sport

Here is something to think about. If we are playing ball, let's say its football: and I throw the ball to you. Yes you catch it but then you lay it down on the ground next to you instead of throwing it back to me. SO I think maybe he doesn't get it? SO I run and pick up the ball. Run back to my spot, and proceed to start the game over, but this time when I throw the ball you don't even bother to catch it. So I decide to quit and walk away, but you scream. No, wait, let's try again. So stupid me; I go pick up the ball to try it one more time. (Not that I said stupid.) Again you totally disregard the fact that I threw the ball at you and you let it hit the ground.

This time pissed the hell off I began to leave. Yet again you protest No, wait! I Understand I get now. You're trying to play ball. See I told you I heard you. SO here I go again with my overly optimistic, thinking that maybe this time you really do understand the concept of the game that I am playing with you. This time when I throw the ball, you dodge it. I mean you duck completely out of the way like I threw a water balloon full of pissy water. So tell me does that make any damn since to you? Because it damn sure doesn't make any since to me.

This, my family is what I call playing with yourself; and I don't mean in the good way.

In this thing we call life; there are two types of people. The ones who make it happen, and the ones who watch it happen. There is no in between, either your doing or watching. Either you're driving the bus or you're sitting at the bus stop watching that bitch go by you. Look, time is the only thing that you cannot get back. So if you're privileged enough to find someone who even wants to share their time with you and you are intrigued enough to want to know them. Why wouldn't you do what it takes to make this a full contact sport? Love is not a game of flag football. It is a full on knock the shit out of you, I can't breathe, oh my goodness I think I son that you are in this game with is doing his damnedest to protect you, or vice versa. I

I mean really! If you're only playing on defense, then you might as well throw in the towel, and call it a wrap. You can't possibly be looking to win? You're actions imply to me that you're intentions are just to survive. From the toughest TOP to the sweetest Bottom, man or woman, we're all looking for the same thing! Somebody to play this game call love with us. Love is not an accident it is a damn choice. And if you choice to love somebody then by all means you better be willing to roll around in the mud, throw some hard punches, and pick up some teeth. Because the battle field of love is not nice to anyone. But anything worth having is worth fighting for. I believe good love is worth having and I will fight for it all day, all night, for the rest of my life. But I absolutely refuse to fight alone.

People now a day's treat relationships like their glasses of water. They take sips from it then leave it on the counter for hours, for days. Then they come back to it and 3excpect it to have the same refreshing cool taste to it had when they'd first poured it. When it tastes stale and bitter instead they wonder why. Bitch because you ignored it and left it sitting there like it wasn't important to you.

You can't expect anybody to stay around and love you while your disregard their feelings, ignore them, and play around with their emotions while you play the field with other people. That's not how it works. When you decide to make someone a priority in your life, that's what you need to do make them a priority. Don't pretend to be interested just to keep them interested in you, all the while you're looking for something else better. Or let's be honest just blatantly trying to keep them busy so that they don't find someone else that's not love, that isn't even a relationship that is hostage situation. You have turned into a terrorist, walking like a suicide bomber, because you don't want anybody else to have me. So you're holding me hostage from someone who could easily treat me, love me, fuck me, and talk to me so much better than you can, could, or ever would!

You Selfish Bastard. You want all privileges and perks of being my man, but you don't actually want to delve deep into the actual responsib9ilities of the job. Needless to say you want a pay check; you just don't want to do any work. Well guess what you lazy sun of a bitch; find someone else who doesn't mind you wasting their time, because I am not the one. Only a fool would allow someone to take up space in their hearts and lives, and the person doesn't even keep them on their mind a fraction of the day. Understand this it is so wrong to portray yourself as what I need, but give me everything that I could do without. Don't be a burden upon someone else's life. If you say you love someone, or even like someone; love/like them enough to put in some work or step aside so that someone else with better intentions can. No one wants to be in love alone. They shouldn't have to be, because that isn't how love was set up. You need two players to play, if one doesn't show up. Game Over!!!

 

Step Up or Step Off ! I Got Shit to Do!

My new mantra when it comes to men, friends, family, people in General; Step Up or Step Off. Is in my opinion the key to my success future success? I recently adopted this new way of thinking within the last month, as I have begun to revamp my personal, professional, and mental state of mind. It may seem a little rude, or a harsh phrase to utter to someone, but honestly it is something that should be said and screamed often. Simply because often times when we "ambitious people" (I am speaking of ambition a lot lately) get ready to tackle the hills and valleys of success we often have people who want to be a part of our success or a part of our lives. And Often times these people are either impeding on our success (slowing us down, or trying to halt progression) or their just along for a free ride. Sometimes these people [want us to succeed but have nothing to contribute, and there for they are just lumps sitting on our swiftly moving log. Well these are the exact people that need such a reality check.

"Step Up or Step Off!"

As I began my ascension into a more successful, empowered, ambitious me I started to see that some of the people in my immediate circle weren't of any use to me. Hell, most of them weren't of any use to themselves and the only reasons they were really in my life was because I was attached to them for sentimental reasons. But sentiment does not equate to progress. Sometimes we hold on to people so tight and we use love as an excuse to ignore who they really are; Manipulative, spoiled, arrogant, self righteous, procrastinating, hypocritical, un-driven, unsuccessful people. I am speaking of those people that have no purpose. We all know someone like this and these are the exact people we love, and want to advance with us, but they are the people who don't want to do anything for themselves. They are the people skating through life constantly making excuses for one thing or another. "I don't have a job because.." "I was fired because…" "I live at home with my mother because…" and "I smoke because.." Bitch please! Give me no excuses, only solutions. People with excuses are people who don't really want to do anything.

Lots of times because people have been our friends for so long we ourselves even begin to make excuses for their lazy behavior. when we know that the truth is just that: their lazy. SO if they're too lazy to care about their own situation, life, career, stomachs, living situation. Why in the hell should it be of any concern to us.

What kill's me is the people who latch on to other people, ambitious successful people and BLOCK! Cock block, blessing block, just damn block. They are the people who can see your success clearly, and in its entirety. Yet they know they are not good enough for you or willing to put in the time/effort it would take to be what you need, desire, want. So they continue to hold on to you because they figure that as long as their around they might as well get what they can get from you. Or at least keep someone else from coming into your life that is going to put in the work, give you the resources, time, energy (good energy) to supply you with what you need to be successful. Ain't that a blimp?

But get this: That is your fault! It was my fault too. People will only do to you, what you allow them to do to you. And we, more often than not, allow people to do some awful stuff to us, in the name of sentiment. Well fuck that I ain't having it no more and neither should any of you. My family, my friends, my loves: Life is too short, it's already filled with pain and hard times. Why make your life any harder than it already has to be just because you love somebody. Your Friends, your family, you boyfriend or girlfriend are the exact people who can hurt you more than anybody. Why, you ask? Because they are the ones closest to you. So they have the ability to do more damage because you care about them.

Now understand this I ain't saying to hell with all your friends. What I am saying; is that we should all take a look at our circle of influence, hell, take a total 180 degree look at your life, and evaluate where you are as opposed to where you would like to be. Then look at that circle of influence and evaluate where those people are and what they have accomplished and whether or not their energy is good energy for you? If they are people who procrastinate all the damn, sit around on the couch eating bags of chips, if they are slackers who hardly do any work or are completely unmotivated, and smoking weed all day every day. As opposed to bettering themselves in school, or working toward a career, or trying to get a better pay raise at work, hell if they are just going to the gym every day to get in better shape. But they need to be putting out some kind of positivity in the air. People, who have nothing to contribute to life, are just sucking the life out of you with their nonchalant way of living.

Boo, that energy that you need. But if you're sitting on the couch with your friend and yawl are supposed to be going somewhere, but you got to catch the bus to get there. But every time it comes time to get up to go catch that bus, and your friend "hollers lets catch the next bus". So you sit back down on the couch with him so that by the end of the day you have missed every bus and the sun has set and you're still sitting on the couch waiting on him/her to move. Well baby that was a waste of time! Hell typing it was a waist of my time.

It is alright to love somebody but don't get loving a person confused. You have to love people at a distance, because the people you love aren't always the ones who love you. But then again maybe they do, they just don't love themselves enough to do better in life. Not your problem or mine. Us motivated people; who have dreams, goals, and ambitions don't have time to dilly dally on a fucking couch, at home all day, in the porn store, fucking every piece of dick, ass, pun that looks cute. People like us got shit to do. SO when I say: Step Up or Step Off! Honey it is because I got shit to do. And you do to.

You have my permission to use it whenever the situation calls for it.

Ta Ta for Now

Rafael Solece

Going Through The Process

By; Rafael Solece

This weekend I did the first of many photo shoots for the promotion of my production company Masquerade. I couldn't begin to tell you the leaps and bounds that My Diva and I went through to make it a success. I can tell you that I do believe that these are going to be some fabulously awesome promotional pictures for me, and I am positive that my head shots will exceed my expectations. The photographer made me feel very comfortable, and extremely professional. The Diva did the hell out of my makeup. She also styled my clothes for the shoot. All in all; my first shoot I feel was a success and I am looking forward to the end result.

This whole process of finding a photographer, conceptualizing, sketching, hiring a stylist, finding a makeup artist, searching for clothes and props for the shoot has definitely been a learning experience. I love that part of the process; the learning part. Every time I come to something new that must be done, and I go through the procedure I always feel so accomplished. Probably because these are all things that I just couldn't have ever learned sitting around in any bodies classroom. The skills that I have acquired are only skill sets that I could have picked up through experience; through my own experience.

I remember when I first started trying to get my book published; I was so disappointed that I couldn't find a publishing firm to pick me up. I knew that my story was good, and I was mad that no one else could see the potential in my manuscript. Honestly though I am so glade I took this route of self publication. Because it has given me an awesome business sense, and I have learned so much, and as a writer, as a producer, as an actor a business sensibility is something that I definitely will need throughout my career.

I know this journey is a labor: but it is my labor of love. I just wanted to share that with yawl. Please follow your dreams my Darlings; much love until next time.

The Picture of Ambition: Denerick

If you have yet to be introduced to the talented Mr. Denerick Lindsey, then I have these words for you. Climb from under that rock you have been living in because Chile you have truly been missing out. He is 5ft 8inches of perfect muscular distribution, incased within lean, porcelain, bronze kissed flesh, defined by striking features, exotic eyes, and sealed with a smiled that would melt any woman, and give any man cause for a second look.
Yes yawl he is that phyne! Denerick Lindsey in my opinion is a super model on the rise.
I first met Denerick some seven months ago on a models call. I was looking for a fresh face to capture the identity of my first novel Street Sinuata, on film. Denerick answered my ad, though I didn’t know it then he was destined to be the face of my lead character, but this was not all that he could be.
I remember it like it was yesterday, perhaps because the scene has played out so many times in my mind. I had been interviewing all day long, and I had seen more than enough good looking men to suit me for the rest of my life. (sake…You all know I could never get enough of being in the presence of an attractive man.) Denerick was scheduled as my last interview of the day, and he was running late. I was less than excited about our meeting. After all the day had been less than promising, and I had slowly drifted from hopeful to slightly irritated by what I had seen. It wasn’t that the men I had interviewed weren’t attractive, They just in my opinion didn’t have that eccentricity that I was looking for. You know that it factor.
I was truly ready to go, and I was about to start packing up things when HE caught my attention. He was standing at the light on the opposite side of the street. Dark glasses, Mohawk, luxurious skin, the impiety of handsome.
As he crossed the street toward star buck’s, confidence exuding from his stride, I thought to myself: Damn he is perfect for the cover of my book. I wonder if he is a model? He turned the corner in to the parking lot and picked up his cell phone, When MY phone rang I smiled. This beautiful young man walking my into Starbuck’s was my last appointment of the day, and he was everything that I had not expected; He was Denerick, and He was the Cover of my book.
The Photo shoot several months later and completely off schedule was more than I had expected it to be. Denerick had rocked the photo Shoot. Both my artistic Director and my photographer were impressed by his professionalism, and enamored with his look.
as well as they should have been. Look at him; the boy is phyne, that you can’t deny. But it was his professionalism, his warm smile, inviting personality, and ambition that kept me looking for him. And after a while I began to see Denerick every where I turned. The more I saw him the more of my attention he command. But It was his fortitude that intrigued me, Literally last week I didn’t know who he was, but today he was the face I saw every time I attended an event in Atlanta.
Walking the runway at HLF Atlanta Fashion Week, Standing on a platform in jockey’s in Select Boutique, On the cover of Kontrol Magazine, Art on the walls of My favorite Upscale bar in Midtown Atlanta, and lets not forget about his underwear spread for The-tee.com (Chile I never been so wet.)
 

With Growing Portfolio like he has, I had to know what was driving Denerick Lindsey. So I sat down with him to talk about his passion for modeling. The interview was more than enlightening and it gave me an in-depth look into the picture of his ambitions.
If your were to ask Denerick who he was, he would instantly tell you.. He is a shy, plain closed, couch potato. At least that is who he is in those down moments when, the business of his professional life isn’t in play. But that’s not the Denerick we see in his pictures, on the run way, in front of a photographers lens, or in a go see. I wanted to know who that Denerick is? Who was this man who was fighting through the crowd of pretty faces, perfect bodies, holding his own, and standing front and center amongst the fashion elite.
Denerick Said: That is the part of me that takes over, That is the loud, up noxious, pushy, arrogant, side of my personality, that wants this modeling thing so bad. I call him The Denerick Show.
I smiled when I thought about what he was saying, because I knew it to be true. I had seen the Denerick show, as he called himself jokingly in action. Confident to a fault. Always dressed to impress in his own unique style, with an air cockey sophistocation, blantantly honest, and Driven. So it was hard for me to believe that Denerick could be casual, laid back, or even lazy. And I found it even harder to believe that Denerick was raised on a farm in Brenham, Texas. I laughed when I heard the words slip from his mouth. It was hard for me to imagine strikingly good looking male model that he was, in a oair of over alls, looking all farm boy like, and milking a cow. Unless it was for the cover of some high fashion magazine for some high end Fashion house or something. I immediately asked him again.
A farm?
Yes a farm. he smiled as he looked at me, yep it was true this polished porcelain black man was raised on a farm with chickens, cows, the whole caboodle.
Denerick like most black men I know came to Atlanta to attend school in the AUC, But after a year there he found himself feeling extremely home sick, or so he’d like to believe. I think more than anything he was just bored with the life of a co-ed.
I tried to stay with it, I didn’t want to disappoint my family
He said softly to me. It was as if a peace of him still felt a little bad for the decision he had made then. But then a light came to his eyes,. And he said with great conviction.
But I called my grandmother, and we talked on the phone. I cried to her for a long time. I told her how I was so unhappy and how I just wanted to drop out, but I didn’t want to disappoint her. Do you know what she said to me?
He asked me as he took a sip of the Carmel Apple Cider he had been drinking.
She said that I could never be a disappoint in her eyes. She told me that I should find my own way, and that I shouldn’t worry about who gets disappointed, as long as I was happy with my life, that was truely all that mattered.
I love how the very people that we think we're going to disappoint are the ones rooting for us the most to follow our hearts. Denerick's grandmother said in that awesome way that grandmothers say things; Baby you got to live for you. And that was a defining moment in Denerick’s life, and it was then that he decided to take another path in life. He decided to chase after a dream of his own, and that dream was to become a model. Funny thing dreams they take on a whole other form when you pursue them, and the pursuit of a dream\ doesn’t come easy. Those of us in pursuit know this more than anybody. But Denerick took the words that his grandmother instilled in him and went after his own success story with all his heart.
Model’s aren’t made in Atlanta? Or so this is what Denerick thought and his pursuit inevitably lead him to New York, because that’s where he though he would find success. He walked the pavement. He beat down doors, he applied to some of the most prominent modeling agencies. Though his face was fresh, his look was all his own, though his body was immaculate, and his talent undeniable; the NO’s kept coming.
Their exact words to me were, “we love your look it’s unique and different, but we would like to see a more developed portfolio, Go and build it up, then come back and see us.”
Denerick spoke this with an air of frustration and anger.
That was like the worst thing that they could have told me.
I saw a lot of pain in his eyes as the words left his lips and I could hear the hurt still there in his voice.
It was hard hearing that I was ALMOST there, but not quite. Tell me anything, but don’t tell me I am almost there! I think that is what discouraged me and I took myself off of the scene for a while.
Hard to believe that such a self motivated man like the one I had seen in Denerick could allow himself to be discouraged by someone else. Then again he is only human. Denerick did what a lot of us do when we come up against road blocks. We pull back Lots of times too soon.
Denerick went back to working an average nine to five. Giving his time to people that really didn’t care about his success. But the monotony of life is not for people like the Denerick’s of the world.
I got tired of the cycle.
He said, but his statement left me baffled. What did he mean by the cycle. I asked.
The cycle is the life that lots of people live day in, day our. You know what I am talking about working the same job every day, the same hours every week, and getting paid just enough to pay your bills, being off when some one schedules you to be off. The rhythm of it all wasn’t for me, and it bored me. I didn’t want to be stuck in the cycle. I hate the cycle. So after I got a taste of what life could be like and I realized that ,that life wasn’t for me, I went back to what I love.
But what did Denerick truely love? WHat was this one undeniable truth of life that he just couldn't live without?
Modeling.
This is how I know that Denerick had a passion that exceeded anything else in his life.
If money wasn’t and issue; if I knew that my bills would get paid and I knew that I could live the life I live now , I would model all day. I would just go on shots, and meet with photographers. That is what I would do because I love it.
There was a light shinning in his bright brown eyes as he spoke those words to me. In his voice I could hear the joy, the passion, and the excitement. His excitement made me excited for him, and I was routing for his success more so then than ever before. If I didn’t see the star in him before that day of I surely saw it in him now. My next question was completely out of scope with the list going on in front of me. But I wanted to know what happened next.
Well honestly I had just started to pursue modeling again around the time that I had met you.He said with a tone that I couldn’t quite place. It was arrogant with and air of seduction. So I pressed him, what exactly did that mean for him now, because all I saw was the glitz and glamour of his red carpet life style. I wanted to know what was different now?
I know what I want now! I want to be a model. I want to make this work for me, by any means necessary, But I want the whole gamete, I want to model, act, television, theater, I want my face, and my name to be every where and I am going to do what it takes to get there.It was easy to see that his words were sincere. Not simply because I was looking in his face, but by the caliber and the amount of work that he was appropriating. Denerick was a hot commodity in Atlanta, and being considerably sought after by designers and photographers alike.
It is funny how we think that there is only one path to take to get to our final destination. When the opposite ions so true. There are many roads into Atlanta. The main road Peachtree is just that the traveled by many, but there are so many little short cuts and side streets that can lead you to your destination. Denerick thought that the only way to make it as a model was through New York and when he met a road block he meandered at the side of the road for a while but eventually decided to etched out his own path to success. And so he continues to climb the ladder of fame with every snap shot taken.
I personally look foreword to seeing what Denerick’s Picture of Ambition will be. But I know that who ever lens he stands in front of it will be FABULOUS.

Contact Denerick
Denerick's Porfolio
Derrick on MySpace