Wednesday, July 25, 2012

A Broken Hallelujah

Sometimes, I think of myself as Job in the Old Testament.

Not in the fact that God and Lucifer had a wager on my faith; not in how Job lost everything including his health.

I mean I feel like Job in the sense that sometimes, all I need is a friend.

When Job's friends came to visit/console him, there was no dialogue exchanged.

In Job 2:11-13 his friends did not come to give him advice. They did not come to judge him. They never spoke a single word.

Their friendly presence was all Job needed. What a humbling necessity. What a way to remind us of what's most important...
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As ya'll know, things have been kind of rocky with Rob and I lately. I think we're so much alike, it drives us crazy to try and control each other. And then, when things ARE going right, I know it's inevitable that we'll be at each other's throats before sundown.

This damn closet I'm in is getting stuffy. I need to come out already. But I'd have to kiss my Minister's License goodbye.

On top of that, I'm HELLA pissed at my dad these days. I realize he has his own family to take care of, but that bastard could call me more often. Whenever we speak, it's because I have to call HIM. I have to travel and see HIM. Reciprocity is a mufucka sometimes... -_- I think what hurts the most is how he can go months without talking to me, and be fine with it. I love my siblings to death. But they've had their entire lives with our father. What do I have? A few memories from summer vacations.
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With these, and many more things weighing me down, my mind was racing at 110mph and I was getting overwhelmed with emotion.

When suddenly, a knock on the door.

It was Maliika. The same girl from my PreDickament a long time back.

She had an hour and a half to kill before going back to work so she grabbed some Panera and surprised me with a delicious Turkey n Bacon Bravo.

I don't know if it was God, our just our synergy--but through my laughing/smiling, I know that I was transparent--and broken.

(mind you, I wasn't on Suicide Watch or nothing like that. It just moved me emotionally when I realized I'm not in this alone).

After some small talk and a few more bites, we just sat there. Watching old Martin re-runs. Chilling.

And the though dawned on me: she usually likes to pry in my business. She usually likes to give me advice, whether I ask for it or not.

But for some reason that I don't understand quite yet--she somehow knew what I was feeling.

So instead of being all intrusive, she instead gave me the silent presence of her friendship.

Eventually, she had to go back to work so I walked her to the door and as she's walking out, she turns around and gives me a hug.

"Text me later on" I said.
"Will do" she said.

She'll never know how much I needed that hug right then. I've had a "frog in my throat" ever since.

I'm getting teary-eyed all over again. But sometimes, it feels good to cry b/c all those emotions get flushed out.

So this post is dedicated to that friend of yours.

The one who knows how to talk you off of that ledge.

This is for all the "Maliika's" out there.
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(here's some songs on my que right now)

Hallelujah -- Alexandra Burke (the Leonard Cohen lyric version) "I've seen your flag on the marble arch. But Love is not a victory march. It's a cold, and it's a broken Hallelujah".

My Immortal -- Evanescence  -- one of my favorite songs. Ever. Hands down.

1+1 -- Beyonce -- that "make love to meeee, when my days look low" always gets me.

Never See Me Again -- Alicia Keys -- I swear to goodness, the first verse of this song makes me SOB.

Wonderful Wonderful -- Johnny Mathis -- kind of upbeat for a "sad song", but the lyrics are awesom.

Good To See You Again -- Scott Alan -- (sighs). Just listen to this. :(
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-_Cogito

Capricornaries@hotmail.com







Sunday, July 22, 2012

Ratchet Ass Nightclub Photos...

I had to show ya'll this right quick...

So Rob prides himself in being a self-trained photographer. Mind you, any person who can afford a 700 camera can call themselves one -_-

And on some nights, like this particular Saturday night, he busts out his camera and charges 5$ single/couple shots, and 15$ group shots. 

When I do chill at his club for the night, it is ALWAYS a sport to fall back and watch the fuckery that takes place. 

Sometimes I edit the albums that he posts to the Fan page. On tonight, I really, really tried not to post these pics. But damn it, they wouldn't have spent their hard earned money on these pictures if they didn't want them to be seen, right? 

These are the best of the worst pics. 

Eh. You be the judge. -_-

 (...does anybody wanna talk about lil thug mrs. on the far left with that armpit?)

And then, lil mama in front in them white shorts. Them legs, them legs, them gosh-damn legs...



You'd think the one guy in front holding his, um, money, has down syndrome. But no. No he doesn't. At least, not a diagnosed case...

Why don't niggas never SMILE? Damn...

...>_<...

When you see a woman wearing something like that, you stay the HELL outta her way. 

20 minutes later, these niggas got bounced out the club for trying to get cute and argue with the performers on stage... 

 Ugh... Smh. 

-_Cogito






Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Backup Your Blog!

To all my fellow Bloggers out there, I can't stress the importance of backing up your blog posts. There's a million sob stories about bloggers (some with +1500 followers even) logging into their Blogspot dashboard one day and -poof- ALL OF THEIR POSTS HAVE BEEN DELETED.

I'm not sure how/why Blogger.com randomly destroys blogs like like that sometimes, or if it even matters.

Click Here for a quick YouTube video on how to do it. It literally took me less than 45 seconds to do the entire process.

Even if you're not an avid Blogger. It is still healthy to have your blog backed up, just in case.

 I'll get off of my soapbox now. Enjoy the lil' pics :)

-_Cogito
Capricornaries@hotmail.com


















Thursday, July 12, 2012

We'd rather have dysfunction...

Excuse my absence for any of these three reasons:

1. I'm taking care of my sick grandmother. Literally. (I know it sounds cliche, but...)
2. I'm STRONGLY considering a Vlog.
3. ROB BROKE MY FUCKING LAPTOP

Ugh. Where do I even begin?

My last post, Kane Rider, was brief as hell because I had to post it on some 007, incognito stuff, on one of the Campus computers. I posted that one a few days ago, on July 9th.

On July 4th, when I should've been getting my life down at the beach with the rest of the sexy mofoz, I spent my evening watching CSI episodes, cuz their top notch forensics always reminds me I can't get away with murder. Unfortunately. -_-


Earlier that day, Rob had just got back in town from a two week trip to Paramus, NJ for some Black Entrepreneurial Summit/Convention/Orientation crap. And of course I was missing my baby, so I HAD to kick it with him. I picked him up from the airport and he was hungry, so we stopped by Olive Garden.

Mind you, for a nigga who owns a Bar, Rob is a LIGHTWEIGHT drinker. Two half-assed glasses of dinner wine, and he's like 70% faded. Not only that, but he's one of those confrontational drunks. His mouth gets slick as hell and he can say some mean SHIT when he wants to...

I kinda knew what I was in for, so I said to myself I was gonna just play it cool, and expect a teensy lil bit of bullshit.

Fast-Forward to his place, after the "good to see my baby again" sex.

Not to blow my own horn, but I give some bomb head.

Before I could say the Serenity Prayer, Rob was out like a light.

I was like "????? naw, nigga, naw! You was talking all that game on Skype about wearing me out, and I'm up for the challenge"...

This nigga rolls over. Opens the top drawer of the nightstand, and tossed his fleshlight on the bed.

Bitch. Ass. Nigga. I was pissed. -_- Smh. No longer in the mood, I got my laptop out and started doing homework. His ass was snoring so loud, I could hear him through my headphones. So I go to the kitchen table and finish living my life.

I was Skyping with some of the people in my group, for this project.
I look up and Rob walks past the camera in nothing but his dress socks.

Immediatly, my Spidey-Senses kicked in and as a reflex, my "whole lot of inappropriate, questionable, ASS was just shown to my classmates" button went off, and as a first reaction, I slam my laptop closed.

Rob: who tf was that?
Me: does it matter? You knew I was doing stuff for class. You gotta be THAT damn aunry?"

(insert "I'm not cheating, you're just jealous and don't trust me" dialogue here).

When he wants to piss me off in a nanosecond, he calls me a bitch ass nigga.
When I want to piss him off, I say "just cuz you're old enough to be my dad, doesn't mean you ARE my dad."

We exchange insults as I'm re-logging back onto my computer. I planned on ignoring his drunk ass, cuz I know he can't stand it.

There I am, typing in my password, and tuning him out, when all I hear is:

"...so fucking quick to close ya laptop, I'll close it for ya'..."

And he did.

He slammed my laptop closed so hard, it cracked my screen down the middle.

I was too disgusted to speak. I was livid. I was seeing red. I was seething with anger.

And to top it all off, he tried to give me some "look what you made me do" excuse.

...fuck I look like?

Nigga wanted to FUCK UP a staple of my life? Cool. 2 can play that game.

As I stormed out the door, I decided to have the Queen-est, Gayest, moment of my life--

I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive

a 2007 Dodge Magnum, to be exact. Next to his bar and his dick, that pretty thang in his driveway is what makes him get up in the morning.

So fuck him. Fuck him, that car, that laptop...

Fuck what we had.

The G in me can't continue being disrespected like that.

We hadn't talked since then. No calls. No texts. No nothing. Until earlier today.

I called him cuz I was outside of his door and I needed to get in and grab some of my things. He could keep the rest.

As he was unlocking the door, I noticed he had the key-scratches buffed out on his car. Why can't love be that easy?

He opens the door and what do I see siting on the coffee table?

A box. Not just any box. A box with an apple on it. This nigga "thought I needed to upgrade anyway", so he bought me a MacBook.

I don't even fucks with Apple products. But here I am. Writing this post. At his kitchen table. Like I was a few days ago.

Crazy as it sounds, it's like we'd rather have dysfunction than nothing at all.

You know the rest.

(Enjoy the pics. There's nothing like some good old fashioned smut to calm the nerves).

-_Cogito
Capricornaries@hotmail.com