Turning Point?!?!

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about my “Daddy Issues.” It is my favorite post out of all of my rants on EOTM, as it was the most honest thing I have ever written. Over my 26 years, I never allowed myself to openly feel much about my father. I refused to allow myself to cry, laugh, think, wonder, or ponder about a person I did not know. However, I secretly wished for the acknowledgement from this person I did not know. That’s all I ever wanted.

On February 18^th, I got to stop wishing. It was a whole day of first for me that included my father. It was the first time I had a conversation with him since I was nine years old, which just happened to be the first time I met him. Friday, February 18th was the first time we took a picture together, the first time I heard him say my name, the first time we shared a drink together, yet more importantly -- the first time he verbally acknowledge that I was his child or at least the first time that I heard it. Needless to say I was an emotional wreck for part of that day, well really all day. I was a big ball of emotions ranging from happy to elated to confused, all at the same time.

I don’t know what happens now with my father, not sure if I can google how to develop a relationship with your father. Honestly, it really would be nice if I could. I have no idea what I am doing here, lol! I never have had a father. However, I am open and receptive to wherever this path takes me. This is a turning point, my moment in life…

A

No Love for Cupid

It’s the first day February--a month full of holidays. This month is dedicated to Black History, Parent Leadership, and National Bird Feeding (Hey, this is what Google is for. lol). In February, we celebrate Groundhog’s Day, President’s Day, and sometimes even a leap year. However, the granddaddy of all February holidays is Valentine’s Day. For the next 14 days lovers will be wracking their brains trying to come up with clever gifts, and ideas for romantic gestures to show their love for one another. WOMP!

When I was younger, I loved Valentine’s Day. You would go to school and make V-day cards; and all your classmates would give out lollipops, Lifesaver’s cards, candy necklaces, and those nasty chalky heart-shaped candies with the sayings on them.  Ahh, those were the good ole days. By the time I got to high school, it was all about who received a singing valentine from Route 87, or who received carnations from a guy at the boys’ school. No longer was everyone included in the “celebration of love”. :(

This post is not coming from a bitter single girl, but from someone who longs for more. Romance, love and affection are great, but Valentine’s Day is not! I would rather not impose the pressure of Valentine’s Day on whoever I am in love with. The actions associated with February 14th have become more ritualistic than genuine expressions of love. Why not engage in a random act of love on July 23rd or September 16th and without spending hundreds of dollars on dinner, flowers, and perfume? That would be a much more thoughtful gesture to show your mate that he or she is appreciated. Valentine’s Day is only one day; what about the other 364 days?!

Just a thought…

A

Happy Birthday Langston Hughes!

To my surprise my favorite poet, Langston Hughes was trending worldwide today on Twitter. Langston Hughes was born February 1, 1902 -- what a wonderful start to Black History Month. Listed below are two of my favorite poems:

Still Here

I been scared and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
   Snow has friz me,
   Sun has baked me,

Looks like between 'em they done
   Tried to make me

Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--
   But I don't care!
   I'm still here!

Dream Variations

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
    Dark like me--
That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance!  Whirl!  Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
    Black like me.