Who's hotter? Beyonce or Letoya

Let’s keep it real, who’s hotter. Beyonce or Letoya?

Needy: A person in need of emotional validation, sexual fulfillment, and social acceptance.

I awoke in the middle of my bed beside my “boyfriend”. I’m laying there—my back towards him—thinking about my 25th birthday—feeling empty, self-reflective. I’m staring at my past; tip-toeing over the footprints men have left over the years.

I visualize the Guatemalan beach. Deep in my mind I see myself pressing the sand between my toes, hydrating the damp sand beneath my feet—plummeting anxieties, rewriting the damaged.

But then suddenly images begin to blur, my happy place decides to leave me once again…I’m reaching out trying to sustain the imagery…
but like always…it fades away.

I jump out of bed, kick my “boyfriend” out, check my fridge, make breakfast, sit on my couch—while munching on cold frosted cereal—watch tv, then check my e-mail, water my plant,—Billy—,and start to feel better all over again, well at least temporarily.

Then an internal voice interrupts my temporary happiness:

‘Why does it have to be this way?’ I’m crestfallen, feeling as if the question has pierced a vital organ. Negative thoughts start lactating running independently in attendance.

‘Why must life be so empty?’ It presumes. But then everything slows down, I hear the question echoing—all around me—over and over again…I shut my ears tight but I can’t fight it because I know that deep down inside the fighter (in me) is pending for my next move, waiting for my metamorphoses. Patiently stumping her feet with her arms crossed in the most tolerant posture you can imagine.

The phone rings I flip open my phone and say “ I don’t think this is working.”

The Song that inspired the Blog...

From the captivating worlds of Placebo, I hear by introduce the reasons behind the title of my blog. Pls read the lyrics of this song carefully for it convey feelings I feel, situations I relate to and the addiction I fight everyday—love.

Sucker love is heaven sent.You pucker up, our passion's spent.
My hearts a tart, your body's rent.My body's broken, yours is bent.
Carve your name into my arm.Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,Every me and every you.
Sucker love, a box I choose.No other box I choose to use.
Another love I would abuse,No circumstances could excuse.
In the shape of things to come.Too much poison come undone.

Cuz there's nothing else to do,Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,Every Me...heSucker love is known to swing.
Prone to cling and waste these things.Pucker up for heavens sake.
There's never been so much at stake.I serve my head up on a plate.It's only comfort, calling late.Cuz there's nothing else to do,Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,Every Me...heEvery me and every you,Every Me...heLike the naked bleeds the blind.

I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.Sucker love I always find,Someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time.
There's nothing here but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue.
Every me and every you.Every me and every you,Every Me...heEvery me and every you,Every Me...he [x4]

Is it possible to be anther Beyonce and JayZ?

What is Love? Why do so many people shy away from it? I’m sitting on my living room couch, ear pressed against the phone listening to the reasons why Navy-guy and I wouldn’t work out. Reasons like: he’s always traveling, his inability to verbally express his feelings and his lack of knowledge in the love department were a few that struck my heart. I wasn’t sure what to think and how to feel. My motto: If a man wants to be with you, he will be with you; and Navy-guy wasn’t sitting neatly under this category.

I didn’t feel anger or sadness, just bitter disappointment. How could I possibly fight his words when he wasn’t confident in himself? I fought the urge to explain why it would work, the clutter of ideas that bubbled in my head were hard to wrestle. Once again I was deleting a number and person from my life. Once again, I was enduring a sleepless night.

He broke me heart last night, and this morning I felt fear of losing what we had. Because in his words existed a doubt that I couldn’t read, nor understand. I wanted to hear more about his feelings, his fears and reasons behind his statement. I replayed his words all night in hopes that someday I’ll meet someone who isn’t afraid to love me back. Yet, deep down inside lives a fire that only burns for him because in so many ways he completes me. The lusts that arise when our lips pressed against each other are moments that are now trapped in time. I fought back the tears, because I felt nothing coming, I cursed and punched my pillow because I felt no anger and I looked into the mirror because I couldn’t see myself missing his embrace.

I couldn’t sleep, and when I a slept, I dreamt of him and how happy we’ve been. This morning, as I sit before this computer typing, he sends me a text saying that he’ll be coming over to further discuss this.

The reason of the break-up: he’ll be in a business trip the whole summer; I won’t be seeing him until August. He’ll be miles away in Hawaii as I reside in NY pursuing my dream as a writer. Is it logical to continue to see each other considering the circumstances or should we call it quits because we don’t see each other often?

In a time when pursuing ones goals means making everything secondary and work first, when do you cross the line and let someone in, and when you do is it fair to leave when the going gets rough? When power couples like Bradgelina, and Beyonce & JayZ exist, should we view them as examples and make the impossible possible? So I ask, is it possible to be anther Beyonce and JayZ?

Neglecting My First Love

A few days ago as I spoke to my significant other about titling our seemingly monogamous relationship, he said something utterly unsettling. “How can you invest time in someone, when you don’t invest time on yourself? What about your dreams of becoming a writer, artist, are you planning on making those dreams into reality?”

Ultimately I’d envisioned more positive results; I didn’t expect the conversation to head into this arena of discomfort, after all, we’d been dating for a few months now—three to be exact—I hadn’t considered this alternate result, least to say his objection . Although factual, it was difficult digesting his genuine interest in seeing me advance. As I stood before him I could feel my heart sopping down my shirt, down my pants and finally sauced on the floor in a wholesome pool of disappointment.

Feeling slightly rejected I got defensive and assumed he wasn’t interested enough to get serious. After I conveyed this to him, he added “I just want to make sure you can finish what you start” Again I felt mixtures of pain and comprehension. I understood him: well established guy seeking equal. Although hurt I couldn’t pretend like it wasn’t true, I did forget about my own personal wants and needs.

The truth: once again, I was applying focus on a relationship oppose to completing the unfinished novel that’s been sitting on my word-processor. Honestly this isn’t voluntary, maybe a system I adapted that I put into practice without realizing it. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to be proactive and dissect this truth.

Putting things into perspective: I never resigned the idea of wanting to be a writer. I might have given-up numerous times, but never stopped thinking of the possibilities of ever reaching that platform. A wise man once said: “Most people operate on autopilot, doing what comes naturally. They get into a comfort zone of average performance, and seldom question their behavior.” –BT

How did I come to this? I’d left my creativeness in the backburner with little regard to my future. I'd been neglecting my first true love, writing. I felt foolish.

"How can you invest time in someone when you don't even invest time on yourself" Again his words echoed in my head. “He’s right” I agreed as if it were the first time I’d acknowledge this. In my mind I spoke to myself, and saw all the goals I’ve pushed aside. The truth was, I didn’t know where or how to start. I know my writing needs work but sometimes it feels like I could focus on this problem for years with no solution. I try reading books but end up reading the wrong books—books that don’t infuse growth.

I trace back time remembering all the bad habits I’d acquired -- procrastination…laziness…--all relatively bad. When did I stop dreaming? Had the meltdowns of society changed me into the person I am today? I admit giving up on my dreams and pretending to be content with the idea of being a failure. I follow my weekly routine feeling exasperated at the end, wasting energy on the trivial, like a hamster running endlessly on a wheel—aimless into a path of no gratification.

Oddly I thought about all the famous women who’d left their mark in history; women who’d fallen head over heels in love with their careers. They’d managed accomplishing everything they’d sought after, contributing their talents and handwork to society, I admire and applaud them for being so fierce with their endeavors. By acknowledging this I soon realized that I’ve partaken in the art of self deprivation, denying myself brain-food, advancement and the ability to broaden my horizons! Without knowing, I was limiting my progress with little concern to the future.

It’s like I’d become part of a statistic, a percentage of Americans’ who fall under the category of the unhappy. That fraction that hates their jobs, that don’t dream nor wish upon a start, who are drowning in their self made misery, the homeless, void of ambitions, who view life as a big party of drugs and pantheism, who drink their troubles away, who change their goals according to their mood, unstable and hopeless. Somewhere in between, I fit in that category.

Certainly I am disappointed with this barnstorm. So before the malice seeps out I forced this stubborn mind of mine to think optimistically. To curb all negative feelings into a solution. A solution bound to help achieve my goals and broaden my horizons. Knowing is half the battle! What's the point of identifying the problem when you don't make attempts to find a solution?

Enters the Internet…

There awaited a writing class pending for my registration. I’d been contemplating registering due to finances. I frowned at the price, again--$645 for 15 sessions--but encouraged myself to save for the class that will soon change my life, because that's what its going to do, change it. Instantly I felt motivated, exhilarated, excited about my goals again! Excited about ME again.

Days later, my significant other introduced me to Daniel Quin’s, Ishmael…I continue blossoming.

Suffering from c*ckaholism?

c*ckaholism-a condition in which one is enslaved by the intoxicating sex moves of a new f*ck buddy.

The sex cravings that arise from c*ckaholism are orgasmic but also illogical. The condition can lead to obsessive behavior overlooking the negative for the continuum of sexual pleasure. Some victims become unbelievably attached to the idea of converting sexual chemistry into monogamy, confusing lust with love. Beware! Letting things slide for the sake of good sex isn’t worth sacrificing self-respect. Finding yourself reminiscing during work hours about this “Sex-guru-whose-last-name-you-don’t-even-remember” is a clear sign that you’ve been infected. If you’re babysitting your phone with the hopes of him calling, re-reading old text messages ago or pretending to have more in common with him than you actually do are indications you’ve been bitten. Ignoring your friends’ advice even though you secretly know that they are right are also surefire signs of c*ckaholism. Please be advised, the condition is reversible…even when quitting cold turkey.

Warning: If the above characteristics do apply, I suggest locking yourself up in a room (your room of course) and getting the Rabbit.

Listen up ladies! I have a story to tell. I know you may still be a bit confused about what c*ckaholism is, but I’m sure you’re not foreign to the problem. There are countless cases of helpless woman and men who get infected by this pesky disease, resulting in attachment to people with no compatibility. Too weak in the knees to walk away from this hypnosis, men and women tolerate the unexplainable to maintain this orgasmic single-minded pleasure. And yes, I could provide all the logical reasons why we shouldn’t fall victims to this plague, but would it really matter? Let’s be honest, in the moment of passion our libido is at its highest, blocking all logic.

So I ask: How do you know if sex is the icing to your cake, or the nucleus of your attraction? When the sexes collide in this triangle of lust, attachment and desire, is it healthy to want more from a sexual relationship? If so, how do you know if the person feels the same, or just wants to keep things as is? With this thought in mind, I fear that I may have succumbed to c*ckaholism. Who would have thought that sex could blindfold you shove you into a room of emotions you didn’t sign up for.

My Story:
I stumbled over my foot as I tried to avoid making noise as I headed towards the bathroom. He was asleep, nicely tucked in the quilts I had washed the previous day. Like every morning, I was up at 8am unable to sleep with an irritating need to use the bathroom. The harsh rays of morning daylight slipping through the corners of my eyes were also enough to wake me up. As I went back to the bedroom, I couldn't suppress the feelings of closeness I had towards him. That’s when I realized that my emotions had been cuffed by reality. Clouded by uncertainty, I’d mistakenly assumed my connection to him was emotional instead of sexual. With a mocking look on my face, I laid beside him and tried falling back to sleep, uncomfortable with the idea of ‘liking’ him after sex.

The next day my good friend put things into perspective. Her theory: c*ckaholism. I laughed nervously after this odd theory was introduced, but as she defined the term, I felt the grief twist my stomach. Were my feelings towards this man sexual or emotional? As I pondered this, I kept thinking of all the victims of this case. My girlfriends and guy friends had told me of their sex addictions to partners they had little else in common with other than sex. Yet, the guy I was dating was more than just a good lay, right? Could my connection to him be more than just sex? Still filled with uncertainty, I decided to pay more attention to my relationship with him.

He invited me to dinner the next day to this Italian restaurant. The aura was romantic, with candle lights surrounding us. He kept talking about “this” and “that” and I listened attentively analyzing his every word. Four cocktails, five animal positions, and three hours later, we nestled in my apartment. I paid attention to how he held me all night kissing my back affectionately. I wondered about his feelings and whether or not he was pondering the same things. Of course I wouldn’t dare to ask, but I did want to know. The next morning he woke up in a cheerful mood, cuddling and playfully teasing me.

Wondering whether my emotions were based on lust or emotions was quickly answered when I clenched my legs that night wishing he was beside me. *And yet I still ponder…..*

…I re-read our text-messages that night. …

Since I still wasn’t sure of my diagnosis, I decided to play it safe with these vaccines to control my cravings. Here’s my list of vaccines for the c*ckaholistic nympho.

1. KEEP BUSY: We all know that a busy mind is the most effective way to block unwanted thoughts. Go to yoga, have lunch with your girlfriends and listen to music when “the voices” start pestering you. Remind yourself that you have more important things to occupy your time with other than babysitting your phone. Come on, you weren’t doing that before you met him! You were living YOUR normal healthy busy life before he sexed you up. Think of him as a piece a candy you slip into your life once in a while. Don’t get greedy and overindulge. Remember, too much candy gives you plaque. Trust me, the busier you are, the less you’ll be inclined to make him the center of your life.

2. HIDE YOUR PHONE: Do you really want to keep calling him? You don’t want to get that feeling you get when your calls are forwarded. Pah-lease, he’s not worth losing your self-respect. If you find it impossible to resist the temptation, hide your phone. Don’t just sit around staring at it for God’s sake!

3. TALK TO THE GIRLS: The best thing you can do is talk to your girlfriends about this. Your inner circle should always have some insightful opinions about your addiction. If you really like the guy, then these steps to maintain your sanity will definitely help. Yet if your case is more severe, then maybe you might want to explain to them in depth the root of this attachment. Which leads to my next vaccine.

4. Perhaps IT’S low self-esteem? This is only the case if he is not treating you right. If you can’t stop thinking of him, and only feel complete when around him then perhaps you have a more serious problem. Latching on to someone could sometimes tell you more about yourself than you think. Maybe you’re trying to fill a void with this sexual relationship. If you suddenly want monogamy after sex then perhaps you need to question the reason behind it. Men can sense when you’re feeling vulnerable and insecure. You don’t want to be transparent. This will only dissipate your allure with the respect they have for you. So please, think much deeper than orgasms.

5. QUIT: If you find yourself kneeled in a corner with the thought of his latest cheating ways, leave. Get a c*ckaholism patch or something. Take your weak knees and add some calcium to those suckers. You must be strong to make this move. Tolerating abuse or disrespect is a Mahogany NO-NO. Also, if you just left a relationship and started dating, you may find your feelings mixed up. You may have trouble differentiating your feelings. If this is true you shouldn’t have sex with him before you’re ready. You don’t want to start something with baggage. The true danger of this behavior is getting attached due to loneliness and lack of closure as a result of a past failed relationship

You see, if you decided to keep the sex guru around there are ways you can keep your sanity intact. And perhaps, if he happens to be emotionally unavailable you’ll pay attention to that. Never assume he may be feeling the same way towards you. These sex gurus are well aware of their sexual skills and are used to the effects. Remember, play it cool, play it safe.

Writing on the 2 Train

Every morning on my way to work I find myself thinking about the past. The unforgettable past! I know these memories ascend pain and sometimes the need to rewind time and place band-aids on broken film strips. However, if those mistakes wouldn’t have occurred than perhaps I would have never met the incredible people who are in my life now.

Thinking deeper about this subject makes me glad that they stuck around for so long. Without DJ I would have never known the meaning of true friendship, without Blue I would be ignorant to unselfish love and without Hugh It would have probably taken longer for me to realize that I possess a fire that’s waiting to conquer. Days when I needed words to save me from despair they were there to show me my way back home.

I guess I shouldn’t think so hard about the past. I should be enjoying the present, because that’s what it is a PRESENT. I’m lucky to have met people who’ve left footprints in my life, and I thank them because without them it probably would have taken me longer to experience friendship and unconditional love.

I advice you to cherish every moment in time. Never EVER take anyone for granted, because when their gone at least you know that you took advantage of every second in time.

Love
--Kenia

My First Official Post

The spring breeze flirts its way up my skirt as I run down Fifth Avenue. I’m late for work. Well, soon to be late. As the clock ticks against me I skip through the pavements of BEBE and ALDO. I can’t resist the urge to gawk at their spring collection. My eyes are fixated on the stores' best garments draped over their mannequins. I’m captivated by the candy colored shoes, suede neutrals and fringe heels that décor their windows.

Deep into the eyes of my mind I picture myself strutting down Manhattan's runway donning such fabulous attire. I envision strolling in prestige boutiques fearless of price labels.

I know it sounds vain but that’s how I define success: Money, Material and Love. Call me materialistic but I’ve always fantasized of having my own Sex and the City.

For one, I am a writer and have dreamed of being a successful writer in NYC draped in designer clothes, living in chic commodities, and marrying the omega of all loves.

Yet deep down inside I have a deeper vision a more selfless ambition; because as the surface appears to lack substance, inside, my streams of consciousness isn't as shallow.

I want to inspire the unturned, touch the hearts of the unknown, and blow life into the dead. I want to supply the sweet nectars of creativity into shriveled minds of the thirsty. I want to entertain those who seek escapisms in my words. For years writers’ have motivated me with their talents and I wish to do the same. Deep down that faint voice (that stirs inside) wants to be heard and make an impact in society.

As I presume thinking of my ambitions I Instantly start to feel the dazzling feeling of inspiration spray upon me. I can feel its spell opening my pores. The feeling is invigorating; as if mint was smothered all over my body. I extend my arms twirling in place as the April sun bends the rays of light fixated on my smile. I’m twenty-four but at this very moment I feel thirteen, full of unbroken aspirations with a brilliance to humanity. I feel a new connection inside a new love for myself. But once upon a time self love wasn’t as easy.

I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve neglected my own desires in belief that something else will fill my void, but as I searched to find myself I realized that my ambitions are what define me and by achieving I’ll be living up to my full potentiality.

Life has thought me one thing, no matter how much people display their love it will never match-up to self love. It will never mean anything until you love yourself. Harsh lessons extort growth. My growth exemplifies my desires to apply the sane into action.

And as a new ex is added to my list it pains me to see the time wasted in searching for a “hit” I could have supplied myself. I’ve always aspired to be a writer but have been too afraid to pursue it. Writing is the one form of art that makes me feel human. It’s my strength and also my weakness. I hope this blog will be a stepping stone to where I want to go.

Love
--Kenia