Quote(s) for the Late Night 10/31

Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.
(Maggie Kuhn)

Only the religious be "saving souls"
while spiritual spit faith into ear holes
once imparted faith meets the Spirit
once the children of God hear it
rivers get parted... Read More
novels get started
water gets turned to wine
and lost branches reconnect with the vine
when He is strong, I am weak
don't have all answers, but by faith.... "I SPEAK"
(Karolina Hymn)

Happy Halloween,
B

...God bless the journalism field

Writers are clearly running short on pertinent/life changing issues. I mean, are you really mad because Kate (from Jon & Kate + 8) returned her two puppies since she couldn't care for them and her 1,000kids simultaneously? As she put it, "her kids come first".

Since when was that such a ludicrous concept?

Look at the picture, and you try to manage. Who writes an article about her decision just to reach the conclusion that she shouldn't have bought such high maintenance pets? I'm pretty sure her sextuplets came to terms with that concept fairly quickly.

I need to make a major impact on the journalism world soon. I mean, what am I waiting for?

It's Not Like The Worlds About to Change,
B

This Was on Craig's List

What am I doing wrong?

Okay, I'm tired of beating around the bush. I'm a
beautiful (spectacularly
beautiful) 25 year old girl. I'm articulate and
classy.
I'm not from New York . I'm looking to get married to a
guy who makes at
least half a million a year. I know how that sounds,
but keep in mind that a
million a year is middle class in New York City , so I
don't think

I'm overreaching at all.

Are there any guys who make 500K or more on this
board? Any wives? Could you
send me some tips? I dated a business man who makes
average around 200 -
250. But that's where I seem to hit a roadblock.
250,000 won't get

me to central park west. I know a woman in my yoga
class who was married to
an investment banker and lives in Tribeca, and she's
not as pretty as

I am, nor is she a great genius. So what is she doing
right? How do I get to
her level?

Here are my questions specifically:

- Where do you single rich men hang out? Give me
specifics- bars,
restaurants, gyms

-What are you looking for in a mate? Be honest guys,
you won't hurt my
feelings

-Is there an age range I should be targeting (I'm 25)?

- Why are some of the women living lavish lifestyles
on the upper east side
so plain? I've seen really 'plain jane' boring types
who have nothing to
offer married to incredibly wealthy guys. I've seen
drop dead gorgeous girls
in singles bars in the east village. What's the story
there?

- Jobs I should look out for? Everyone knows - lawyer,
investment banker,
doctor. How much do those guys really make? And where
do they hang out?
Where do the hedge fund guys hang out?

- How you decide marriage vs. just a girlfriend? I am
looking for MARRIAGE
ONLY

Please hold your insults - I'm putting myself out
there in an honest way.
Most beautiful women are superficial; at least I'm
being up front about it.
I wouldn't be searching for these kind of guys if I
wasn't able to match
them - in looks, culture, sophistication, and keeping
a nice home and
hearth.

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or
other commercial
interests

PostingID: 432279810


THE ANSWER
Dear Pers-431649184:

I read your posting with great interest and have
thought meaningfully about
your dilemma. I offer the following analysis of your
predicament.
Firstly, I'm not wasting your time, I qualify as a guy
who fits your bill;
that is I make more than $500K per year. That said
here's how I see it.

Your offer, from the prospective of a guy like me, is
plain and simple a

crappy business deal. Here's why. Cutting through all
the B.S., what you
suggest is a simple trade: you bring your looks to the
party and I bring my
money. Fine, simple. But here's the rub, your looks
will fade and my money
will likely continue into perpetuity...in fact, it is
very likely that my
income increases but it is an absolute certainty that
you won't be getting
any more beautiful!

So, in economic terms you are a depreciating asset and
I am an earning
asset. Not only are you a depreciating asset, your
depreciation accelerates!
Let me explain, you're 25 now and will likely stay
pretty hot for the next 5
years, but less so each year. Then the fade begins in

earnest. By 35 stick a fork in you!

So in Wall Street terms, we would call you a trading
position, not a buy

and hold...hence the rub...marriage. It doesn't make
good business sense to
"buy you" (which is what you're asking) so I'd rather
lease. In case you
think I'm being cruel, I would say the following. If
my money were to go
away, so would you, so when your beauty fades I need
an out. It's as simple
as that. So a deal that makes sense is dating, not
marriage.

Separately, I was taught early in my career about
efficient markets. So,

I wonder why a girl as "articulate, classy and
spectacularly beautiful"
as you has been unable to find your sugar daddy. I
find it hard to believe
that if you are as gorgeous as you say you are that
the $500K hasn't found
you, if not only for a tryout.

By the way, you could always find a way to make your
own money and then we
wouldn't need to have this difficult conversation.

With all that said, I must say you're going about it
the right way.
Classic "pump and dump."
I hope this is helpful, and if you want to enter into
some sort of lease,
let me know.

I Know That's Right-School These Hoes LOL :)
B

Thought for the Day 10/28

Could you imagine if your mom taught you to be the type of guy she was attracted to?
-Unknown Poet

Something to Think About,
B

p.s. This doesn't mean the same thing for everybody, but I think you get it.

Thought for the Day 10/26

Do you think caterpillars resist the transition to butterflies? What if Jesus was born with alopecia? Would the world still think he was beautiful?
(Sania)

Feed my Soul,
B

Thought for the Day 10/23

"Tell the child born with no arms to embrace the rhythm. Tell the one with no legs to dance like David danced... Light this world on fire with two sticks and one stone just to show em' how survivors make it happen."
(Ms. Wise)

Poeting til' My Hearts Content,
B

Well, let me tell you something sissteeerrrr....

"We're two of a kind."

So, my sister finally went for the big chop. It's gone, and it's beautiful! ...and I'm a creep :)

She sent me this via email, and I'm at work. So, I zoomed in and was just looking at her, smiling and singing songs from The Color Purple.

And I'm ok with that. Crazy thing is, I feel closer to her now. Idk, we live through each other vicariously, but in different ways. Initially, my going natural was "us" going natural. Now, we're just both natural. Like. Fa real.

Yay! Go us!

Just Had to Share My Excitement,
B

So, my phone is no bueno.

FML, as well as the Palm-Pre.
Granted, the phone being physically jacked is my fault. And by jacked, I mean I've dropped this phone four times in the past week and there are all types of cracks going across the screen which keeps me from using the phone to its fullest ability, since it is.. afterall.. a touch screen.

Mind you, I've had a touch screen phone since forever. Ever cracked one? No. Get a new phone, the newest phone my service provides (at that), and crack this thing in no time. Crack it repeatedly, like it's my job.

Ugh.

So, I'm trying to get all the quotes out my phone (that I write down when hearing them at different venues) whatever way I can before my phone goes completely bye-bye. What I see, is what ya'll will get. So far, this is what I can pull out my Memos:

[these quotes were from a show presented by Excelano Project, U. Penn's poetry collective]
"I wear my ancestor's skeletons as armour." (Alysia)

"Even wounded knees can still bend." (Alysia and Josh)

"I fall in love much more often than I intend to... I'm a child with more growth spurt than backbone... I'm more poet than person sometimes." (Garrett)

"Coloring between the lines was only intended to hinder our creativity." (Justin R.)

"My doctor tells me the only difference between Aderol and crystal meth is a prescription from him... If ADD is a crutch, than my mind is Tiny Tim." (Justin C.)

"We don't make love. Make makes it sound like you add salt to that shit and serve it with peas. We create love. Take fuckin' and make it love... her bodies like going to sleep blind and waking up to a sunrise... Fuck love. Cause you can say love I love you, but you can't do what we do." (David Warner)

"I'm a blood throwing up my hood rollin' deep ready to kill a nigga. I'm the Klu Klux Klan throwing up my hood, rollin' deep ready to kill a nigga." (Josh B., sidenote: when referring to the KKK, it's hood as in the piece of cloth)

That's It For Now,
B

The Reason I'll Keep My Child in the Church

If I had her praying for me, I'd have a guaranteed spot in heaven. I'm sure God's listening to that prayer.

Thanks Michael,
B

I'm Going to be a Statistic

According to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, only 0.3 percent of U.S. college students study abroad.

I plan on being in that number.

A few weeks ago I met with my academic advisor, and she informed me that I took my classes in such a way that would allow me take a semester of electives only. When I first came to school, I was hell bent on studying abroad. Now, knowing that I can take a semester of electives, this thought seems even more reasonable.

As of last week, I have spoke my traveling situation into life, and am claiming it so. Next fall, during my senior year of college, I will be doing Semester at Sea. That's right, I'll be on a traveling university touring through different countries around the world.

Excited, much? I am. Big sis'-you'll be glad to know that one of the countries is Spain. Another one is Japan. THERE! We both win.

QUOTE FOR THE EVENING:
"The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page."

-Saint Augustine

Row, Row, Row Your Boat (LOL, It's what we're singing at work. Don't ask.),
B

Thought for the Day 10/15

I am what I am and
that’s all that I am.
-Popeye

That's Right Popeye,
B

House for Sale, Latest Poem

Through every incident that threatened to ravish the rooftop of our relationship
I chose to stay at home
Might have opted to take a breather out on our back porch
But not once did I step out of what we took time to build
Knowing that if no one was there to defend our fortress
It may not still be standing when the wind no longer blew

Call me Southern
Cause I know the kitchen only gets hot when somethings cooking
And I thought we were working up a masterpiece
But you
Have this tendency of speaking with the neighbors

See, when our house don't quite feel like home
You do our laundry elsewhere
And now they've crept their way into our bedroom
Patched pieces of themselves in holes they noticed in our sheets
So I can't make love to you like I used to
Cause remnants of them have been revealed in places they should not be

I have not mastered every house chore
But in the same manner they aren't accountable for ironing out the creases in our sheets
I'd never consciously give the neighbors a chance to try on my shoes
So, I don't ask for advice on how to walk in them

Yet for some reason
They're thinking that my pumps might fit their mold

And now their shameless sense of entitlement
Has found its way inside our living room
They've gotten comfortable
Began posing for pictures
As if the memory foam in our mattress doesn't only have indentations created strictly by the two of us
Is there something you'd like to tell me, lover?

Or should I just address this to
The neighbors?
The same ones who were once only bold enough to peek in through the blinds
Have now claimed a chair at our dinner table
So I cant even say my prayers for our grace without showing hints of resentment
Don't get it twisted

Not everyone wants to make it inside our bedroom
Some just want to be in earshot so they can hear how it's affected
But unlike you
I've made it clear that I don't take kindly to company
Last I checked, this was my house

See, it's one thing to condemn me amongst others when I'm not present
Knowing I seldom show up at town meetings to defend myself
But my front door wasn't made for revolving
Homes and hearts come with keys for a reason
And I don't provide either as temporary resting places

When you say build
I think brick
Not legos
Those
Are for kids
As are tricks
And this relationship
Has been equipped with too many of them
I know

It was once hard to tell the difference between Motel 6 and our home
But when I put down the welcome mat
Not just left the light on for you
Something should have shifted
I know a for sale sign when I see one
Know all the tell tale signs of a depreciating building

Don't be surprised to learn that I already had my bags packed
I just don't see the point in lingering any longer
When it is you who now makes me feel like a guest
In the very space I thought was a place I could call my own
Please
Allow the strength you found in the neighbors
To now make you feel at home

Heavy Exhale,
B

Thought for the Night 10/12

"I may never birth your child hunny,
but I will breed you life."
-Ms. Wise

That's Another Name You Might Want to Google,
B

Wanna be on top?

Yesterday my organization (Babel: A League of Extraordinary Poets) held auditions for the next generation of Babelonians (as we've come to call them). It was my first time sitting in the seat which declared me a "judge".

It was an odd feeling at first. Naturally, I'm invested in the group and don't want anyone involved who I don't think is fully capable. Still, it's different when people are brought to the group and we adjust to each other, knowing we were picked by the same people.

The feeling changes knowing someone's coming into the group compliments of my decision. In a way, I was feeling like, "Who am I to tell these people they aren't good performers?" Then, a bug in my head was like, "Who are you not to?" Talk about internal conflict :)

Either way, some of them were dropping gems. It's been a while since I loaded ya'll with quotes from poetry venues and such, so that's what I plan to do. I'll start with their stuff, then keep it pushing-cause I went to a show called The Sound Testament presented by The Lyrical Playground, and it bout' changed my life. Change that, I'll give you poems from Lyrical Playground in another post.

I digress. Here you go. Before you start reading, just say "BABEL!" one time:

"Stain my hair and make me gothic. Marilyn Manson my moral."
"Standing ovation cause I can pass for Caucasian on landlines."
(Furious George)

"We decided to watch the sunrise together and talk of dead author's ideas."
(Brendan)

"Never be nothing more than a secret he would kill to keep from becoming exposed, the only one my sheets and 2AM knows."
"You won't amount to nothing until you're shown something else exists."
"... I guess time don't heal, but I want to."
"... may God show you what the world cannot."
(Elizabeth)

"Stop talking to me in codes. I'm not a padlock."
"Keys mean vulnerability. So, if you could excuse me while I unlock these kisses. I've been wondering what's been hiding behind them."
"Inhale my poetry, exhale insecurity, and be secure with me. So, you won't need these keys to unlock everything."

(Noel Scales, that's a name ya'll might want to Google. I'm just sayin'.)

"A woman's body is her temple. She must surround it with only kings who are man enough to fight the war but never dumb enough to touch the queen."
(Jasmine McCrawford)

Tryouts Went Well,
B

So, this blog and I had a birthday.

Who knew?
As of Sept. 19th, Blog baby is a fresh 2 years old- ow!
I, on the other hand... well, let's just say that I'm older.

If you know. Then you know.
If you don't, God don't make no mistakes.

My weekend went as follows:

On the day before the most special day, the plan was simple: show love to my Florida folks who came up here for Steph's, another October birthday girl, celebration.

Take an actual "October birthday's" and company photo. Hint: Stephany is the one in blue, and the boys sitting on either side of her have her birthday or mine. Hmph.

Yeah, we were deep. With that being said, Libras: throw one hand in the air if it's like that!

Finally, the time on the clock reveals that it is indeed my birthday. Meaning? I can open the gift from my grandma that's been in my living room all week with signs all over it that read, "Do not open until 10/4!"

Everyone was like "Just open it." Psshhhh, when Grammy talks-I listen. Enough said. Besides, it was a food processor (something I asked for since I've been thinking I'm a real chef lately) and a recipe book (apparently my grandma is also believing the hype because she wrote down all my favorite recipes by hand in put them in a book). Great family heir loom, much? Indeed.

It was the roomie's idea for me to take a picture in the first place. So, naturally she has to get in on the action. Precious, aint she?

House party the night bringing in my birthday. Bottle in tow that fits into my clutch, just the way I like it.

For that matter, chilled bottles-sign 1 of a good weekend.

Say hello to one of my favorite Temple'tons, Mr. Little.
You've seen him before.

Receive a personalized-crown having cake, from the man shown above, that I don't remember getting. Granted, those are definitely my shoes in the picture- so I'm sure I took this with my phone.

Memory loss: sign 2 of a good weekend.

Bomb dress and heels, signs 3 and 4 of a good weekend.

This was the actual night of my birthday. The details on the night before this one were fuzzy so don't ask for any. Just know I got a cake. I got another cake this night, but I didn't take a picture of it. My roomie's friends made it. They had came here the weekend before to celebrate their birthday, and I made the birthday boy pepper steak.

In return, he came here with a vanilla cake covered with chocolate icing and sprinkles. Much appreciated.

I've never had someone bake me a cake before. This birthday-I got two (technically three) someone's to bake me a cake. And they were all boys. Score! Can you imagine guys sitting down like, "Alright, time to make B's cake." I can't.

Pictures with anonymous men from the club, sign 5 of a good weekend :)

Pictures taken on a bike that doesn't belong to you, or anyone you know during a "club break"... I would say smoke break, but I don't indulge-either way, sign 6 of a good weekend.

Pictures pecking your roommates friend, another incident you don't remember- 7th solid sign of a good weekend. Isn't that, like, the number of completion? LOL

And That it Was,
B

p.s. Did I mention that I left the club with $40 more than I came with on the night of my birthday and 6 drinks purchased by anyone but me? No? Well, add that onto my signs of weekend greatness.

Then top that off with the fact that my grandparents left me money in my account which permitted me to buy groceries and stock up my fridge so it would look like this:Man, am I on. Wipe me down.

After that, I guess I should give ya'll a quote.

"Play that song from summer.
If you recorded it on tape,
you can hear the lemonade."
-Poet, Proverb

That Makes Me Smile,
B

This Made Me Laugh

Dry humor does the trick sometimes :)
B

She is full of contrast.

"More alive and closer to death than anyone I've known."

So, I have to think B's blog for having me stumble upon the site I'm about to tell ya'll about. However, I'm actually dedicating this post to my former roommate.

Anywho, the story behind the site reads like poetry. I'm going to post a few excerpts but you would be doing yourself a total disservice if you didn't go read it in full.

You never know who you know that might have been looking for a site like this. Pass it on man.

Here's an excerpt:

"She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before...

We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true."

Everything about that gives me chills. Again, go read it in full. Click the shirt below and it'll take you there.


*On a lighter note, I like the shirt. My b-day was last weekend, so yeah-go and cop that :)

Write Love on Her Arms,
B

Thought for the Afternoon 10/6

Because the sun fancied me more, my chances became slim.
-Noel Scales, Philly Youth Poet

Fancied,
B