Empowering For The Future

Is not human.     He is a depiction of who society wants him to be. Is not normal.     He is a fiction character out of books you read and movies you see. Is not at fault.     He simply does not have a price to pay, any flaws or mistakes. Is not real.      He's consequently the boss of his own life he takes and to himself, he gives. Is "not filled with emotions"       He's robotic like emojis and refuses to emote his emotions to mean what he says and feels. He is an Emotionless Man and he is less than the man you would want to be with. In today's society, men are taught that they cannot show or have emotions or feelings. If they do, they cannot display it; they "must be stronger than every other person in the world." They might not always verbalize this unsaid and conditioned rule but it is well known amongst the male species. They are not taught how to balance or manage their feelings but bury it under their masculinity. They "

It's a movement!!!! First off, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! With a new year, comes new responsibilities to self. One responsibility I promised myself to keep is to STOP PRiDE! Yes, small "I." This is a new movement, a new challenge that I think I am ready to accomplish and I hope to inspire you to join me! There's just one thing... how can you stop something that you may be blind to?!? OUCH! That hurt even as I typed it. Pride will have you completely blinded by YOU! You are and will stand in your own way without even realizing it. So let's tackle this together: what is Pride (and no, not the film). "Pride: a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired." Most also know pride to be our ego. It is the thing that tells you that you are right and justified for feeling the way you feel about somethi

I had a dream about a woman. She was intriguing. She had on a long skirt, no bra, hair as natural as can be. As she walked closer, I can smell the strong aroma of patchouli... with a little hint of weed. A hippie... a black one at that! She had her guitar and rocked back and forth. The closer she got to me, the more I could see That this woman wasn't just a woman but this woman was me. She had scars on her body, up and down her arms and neck. Signs of pain she suffered and ounces of regret. She walked in confidence but something was not right. She slurred her vocabulary words and vowels as if they were tight. She wanted to be cool, she wanted to be hip, but all those things were natural for she was trying to fit in. When we finally got face to face, I saw she was in a dark place. The things she battled with, some not all her own. Soon the smile dissipates and the anger did set. "How was she this angry?" It could not be with me. My eyes did not prepare