"Seeing the world through a kaleidoscope."

-Asia Aneka Anderson2015 ©

Broken Branches

  I am a person who is fascinated by history. I love looking into my family history, even though I don’t get to as often as I’d like. As interesting as it is to find out where I came from this activity is bittersweet. Every black person is going to get to that point in their family tree where there’s a roadblock.
        I’ll admit I’m amazed at how far back I was able to get on my family tree. On my fathers side I’m able to go back three generations. With the fathers side of his family I’m able to reach the mid 1800s without running into a slave owner just yet. My mother’s side is different. On her fathers side I’m able to go five generations back and am able to find more information about a slave owner, George Washington Cain (my great-great-great grandfather), than the black side of my family. I’ve found that George, who lived in TN, received a slave, Cynthia, from his brother somewhere along the east coast and went on to have three children with her. When it comes to this side of my family my search stops there. I have no information about Cynthia. I have no idea if she was born in the US. I don’t know what her last name was. I have no idea when she died. I don’t know who her parents were or if she had siblings. There is a possibility that she had children before and/or was married and was taken from them. That’s all the information I have about her and even that’s not even certain. This is a part of my heritage I’ll most likely know nothing about and it angers me a bit. I want to be able to say that a certain ancestor of mine came from Africa, but I won’t know who or when. As far as my white ancestors I know some come from Lancashire, England in the late 1860s. I only have the luxury of knowing their names because they are white.
        When I do my light research of my tree it hits me hard to realize that these events weren’t that long ago as we’d like to think. Sometimes it’s annoying to hear people imply that black people should get over slavery because it was “so long ago”. It really wasn’t. I only have to trace back a few generations to get to the times of slavery. My grandmother even told us of her grandmother, who was alive when she was little, who was a slave. My grandmother also told us of times when she has picked cotton. Of course with her being born in 1935 she wasn’t a slave, but it was something she had experienced as a child. It’s really scary to see all of the horrible things my people went through that happened during the lifetime of family members who are alive today. My parents were alive during the civil rights movement. They were born before Jim Crow ended. My mom was 10 when Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. Looking through my family tree reminds me of the hell we’ve been through.
        All of my searching has been done through Ancestry.com. My younger cousin has also been searching but through another genealogy site. She sent in DNA samples and learned that our side of the family traces back to the first woman from Africa. I’m not sure how accurate that is, but it’s a nice thought. It would be pretty awesome if she was my direct ancestor.
      As frustrating as it may be to hit dead end after dead end it won’t keep me from wanting to know more. It’s truly a journey. I have family from all over from England to TN to VA to GA to MS. I can only imagine where else in the country and abroad other family members come from. I only wish I could put names to my ancestors who were forced from the shores of Africa. I wish I knew their real names and not the ones they were given once sold into slavery. My dream would be to, one day, sit down with an expert so that I can fill in these empty branches from my family tree. A bigger dream would be to actually visit the places they’ve been. I’ll get there one day.

-Asia Aneka Anderson (c)2015
Day 55: this man's music brings me much joy. #365DaysOfHappiness #2015 #GeorgeHarrison #HappyBirthdayGeorge #TheBeatles #HappyGoals

Woe Is Me

Lost little girl with the “woe is me” mindset.
Picked on and jabbed leaving her attitude justified.
Bullies claw at the dirt around her feet.
She sunk down deep.

Lost little girl with the “woe is me” mindset.
Her sorrows and fears weighed on her heavy.
She kicked at the dirt around her feet.
Deeper and deeper she goes.

Lost little girl with the “woe is me” mindset.
She heard the whispers of hate creep past her ear.
Her inner demons dug heaps of dirt around her feet.
In a hole she stood now shoulder deep.

Lost little girl with the “woe is me” mindset.
She stared up as the bullies smiled at their work below.
Her need to climb to the surface diminished.
It was too deep and the outlook too dark.

Lost little girl with the “woe is me” mindset.
In her hand was the shovel of insecurity the bullies bestowed upon her.
This cave of negativity had become her home now.
She picked up where they left off digging herself deeper and deeper.

Lost little girl with the “woe is me” mindset was now a woman.
She stood in her, now, self made grave of despair.
No sign of light left her lonely and afraid.
Digging deeper she had hoped to see light on the other side.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

A Letter To My Future Self

Dear future me,
Wherever you are I hope you are well.
I did my best to keep you healthy and sound when you were here.
As I know I could’ve tried harder.
I often worry about you.
I’m unsure whether you’ll even exist.
Imagining you seems impossible.
Past me was so hopeful and full of dreams.
She lived with the vision that you’d be something amazing.
Past me made so many plans that present me was supposed to fulfill.
Present me steamrolled that vision.
I’m not sure where it all went wrong and even more unsure how to fix it.
I can’t seem to get a grip on life.
I really hope you sorted that out.
All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.
I wanted to make it easy for you to succeed.
That pressure only made it easy for me to give up.
I gave up, waiting for you to come and take the reigns.
My apologies for making your job much harder.
I hope you can forgive me for the mess I have made.
Future me I hope you become everything we wanted you to be.
We wanted you to be loved.
Loving myself proved to be hard.
I hope you got a hold of that concept.
Future me I hope you are the opposite of what we are and used to be.
So much potential we all but gladly watched fly away.
We hope you realized your worth.
You are truly worthy of all the things present me denies herself.
Past me pictured you as a traveler with a lover by your side.
She pictured you taking the world by storm with your powerful words.
Present me can’t even find a reason worthy leaving the bed.
My world is so cold and dark.
I hope some light has come your way.
My only wish is that present me is nothing but a blur to you.
Future me I hope you’ve taken all the risks I was afraid to take.
I hope you’re demanding the respect we never got.
Most importantly, future me, I hope you’ve finally found that life is worth living.
I hope you’ve figured out that life is only cold and dark for a moment.
I can’t see that now, but I hope I give you the chance to experience it.
Don’t look back, future me.
Live your life the way I could only dream.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, A Letter To My Future Self 2015 ©

On The Outside

Often overlooked.
Never worthy of your love.
Can’t understand why.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites
Day 54: I remind myself of this to put my mind at ease. #2015 started off all wrong, but I know this year has great things in store for me and the people I care about. #365DaysOfHappy #HappyGoals
Day 53: I embrace my weird. I love my weird. #365DaysOfHappy #2015 #HappyGoals #GrahamMoore #StayWeird #Oscars2015


Be free. Keep running.
Never let failure stop you.
Be happy. Be you.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites


Daydreaming of us.
A whirlwind of happiness.
A lifetime with you.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites
Day 52: Just the intro to this song puts a smile on my face #365DaysOfHappy #2015 #HappyGoals #TheBeatles #AllYouNeedIsLove #FabFour #JohnLennon #PaulMcCartney #GeorgeHarrison #RingoStarr
Day 51: I don't think I could survive without music. #365DaysOfHappy #2015 #HappyGoals #music

Dark And Light

Living in the dark.
Shadows all surrounding me.
Seeking hope and light.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites
"I wish the future was now."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©

Day 50: Finding new routines that #workout my mind, body, and soul #365daysofhappy #2015 #happygoals #fitness #exercise #WeightLossJourney
Day 49: When I see things like this. I hope something is done about it too. It's about time people start getting held accountable. ‪#‎365daysofhappy‬ ‪#‎Ferguson‬ ‪#‎CNN‬ ‪#‎BlackLivesMatter‬ #2015 ‪#‎happygoals‬
Day 48: I love dog shows, always have and always will. I usually just squeal "it's so cute!" the entire time. ‪#‎365DaysOfHappy‬ #2015 ‪#‎HappyGoals‬ ‪#‎Westminster‬ ‪#‎doggies‬!

"Only God Can Judge" And Other Rules Supposed Christians Break

My entire life I’ve grown up hearing a lot of negative things out of the mouths of people I care about. “Why is that girl wearing that?”, “What is going on with your hair?”, and “Damn, they’re fat.” are things I heard them say about people all the time. As a child I saw it as normal, although in the back of my mind I knew something was off about it.
           I come from an extended family who consider themselves Christians and wondered why they were the people I heard most negative things from. I often heard them say hurtful things about people and laugh as though their words had no negative impact.  I grew up feeling inadequate because of it, I’ll admit. I never felt food enough. As a kid I was very scrawny so the fat comments didn’t come until much later, but back then I was (still am) different. When I was a kid I was just devoted to being me. I didn’t want to conform to whatever normal was and most certainly didn’t want to follow the bumpy road of sticking to a stereotype. I had no idea that I was straying away from “normal” I was busy doing things that made me happy. I was always reminded that I was weird and I could never understand why I was always made the outcast. As I got older I tried to keep my distance from them. I’d go to family functions, say the minimal, crack a joke or two, but mainly just kept to myself as not to bother people with my weirdness. I did anything and everything to keep from being noticed.
        Now that I’m a bit older I’m more irritable. I have no patience for people’s judgmental bullshit. With the passing of my aunt last month (and even many months before that with my aunt was in and out of hospitals) my mother and I have been spending a lot of time with my grandmother. I’ve noticed more and more that I have to keep telling her how her words can affect people. We’ll be out and she’ll comment on someone’s weight, although she’s overweight herself. If something comes up about homosexuality she calls them “funny” and trans people are “its”. Every time I have to correct her and let her know that you don’t know what the hell people are going through to pass your judgement on them. People are overweight because it’s fun. I have to tell her “What if that person suffers from PCOS and it trying their best to lose? What if that woman gave birth to a still born child last year and is overeating to cope? What if that person you’re calling fat was actually 100lbs heavier months ago and is starting to feel good about the weight they lost and people like you come around to ruin their high?” I usually only get a chuckle and an “Okay, Asia. Okay.” as a reply, but it’s not funny and my words to get grown people to be compassionate should not be chuckled at. That just tells me that my words are invalid and others feelings are even more invalid. There are a few people in our family that has battled with eating disorders. The rest all want to blame society and peer pressure as to why these few went down that path, but I always felt that it’s possible the beauty standards in our society contributed to that, but I’m pretty sure 80% of that blame should be placed on family, because I know how they made me feel. Other people can’t make you feel as horrible as your own family can.
          Most would like to brush things like this off as “Sometimes older people are set in their ways and are going to say and do things that we’d consider rude.” I don’t think so. For instance, I’m 32. This isn’t recent behavior. I have witnessed this for all of my 32 years and it’s the same hurtful rude comments. As far as I’m concerned I don’t think people should use the age thing as a scapegoat. As an adult you should be aware that the things you say can hurt feelings if  they are heard (and even if they aren’t). People should especially be aware if it’s brought to their attention time and time again. Being a product of my environment I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do these cruel things I mention. It’s what I grew up with and it’s what I know, although I was more aware of the things I said whereas my family was not. I still slip every now and again. I’m human. My only difference is I keep these thoughts to myself and don’t make them out loud and within earshot like my grandmother does.
          The post is in no way to take a poke at Christians. I have a habit of coming up with tongue in cheek titles for things I write. It has more to do with my observation of people who call themselves devout Christians who go to church every Sunday, but sin more than the rest of us the other six days of the week. I was always fascinated by that. Seeing that throughout my life is probably what made me want to be agnostic. I also know that just because a person may be judgmental that doesn’t make them any less Christian. In closing I hope no one gets the impression that I might be harsh on my grandmother after she just recently lost a daughter. I just try to let her know that she may not know that the people she criticizes may be going through what she just went through or some other tragedy and shouldn’t be made fun of because of their appearance.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites 
Day 47: Keeping my blog updated and speaking my mind asiaanekawrites.blogspot.com #365daysofhappy #HappyGoals #2015 #InsideMyCreativeMind #writing #Stories #poems #poetry #PoetsOfInstagram #StorytellersOfInstagram
Day 46: The best sketch ever #SNL40 #365daysofhappy #2015 #happygoals #TheBarryGibbTalkShow #JustinTimberlake #JimmyFallon
Day 45: Bullshit holidays, munching on Chinese food, and getting schooled by fortune cookies #365DaysOfHappy #2015 #HappyGoals
Day 44: It's a good day when my #twistout and eyeliner turn out okay. #365DaysOfHappy #2015 #HappyGoals #naturalista #naturalhair #teamnatural #redlips

How Do I Cope?

I don’t know how to handle the death of someone that you weren’t really that close to. Sometimes I feel as though I don’t have the right to be sad about it. My aunt and I were never super close. From the time I was a child I always felt that her and my grandmother favored my older and younger cousin more. It made me understand the “middle child syndrome” all too well even though I’m an only child. I was/am often the one that was left out or forgotten about, but that’s all I’ve ever known. Even with all that said she never got a chance to have children and we were the next best thing. I will admit that being treated as the black sheep I harbored some resentment towards this side of my family. I didn’t feel the need to care about a group of people who I thought cared very little about me.
       During the last few months of her life we still never became too close, but I felt like I got a chance to understand her more than I had my entire life. I was shocked to find that underneath it all we had a lot more in common than I realized. The last few months of her life was spent in and out of hospitals until the week after Thanksgiving where she never got to go back home. All that time I was at the hospital almost everyday along with my mother. I saw how much our lives paralleled while being complete opposites. We both had meddling mothers who meant well, but will drive the most patient person fucking insane. Most days would be laughs because at some point my grandmother would say something completely redundant or simple and my aunt would look at me and say “You see what I deal with everyday?” All I would do is laugh, point to my mother and say “Same thing.” In between these days of laughter would come the occasion days where she’d be completely silent. For months doctors told her there wasn’t anything more they could do and some days I could tell those words probably swirled around in her head repeatedly. I’m never the optimistic person, but I always hoped something would turn for the better. Because of my mindset I never fully understood why other family members wore long faces. I reminded them that they were the ones who were religious. They should be the ones with the hope yet I felt like I was on that hope cloud alone.
         Everyday I went to the hospital I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Even if I didn’t say much, which I never do, I couldn’t imagine not being there as some sort of support. For the last week or more that she was in the hospital her health as well as her spirit declined. She was diagnosed March of 2013 and the whole time she fought hard, but those last weeks she kept saying that she was just tired. I can only imagine. I watched as the lower half of her body swelled to almost twice her usual size. I still stayed hopeful. Soon representatives spoke of hospice and everyone was in my ear telling me that hospice meant death. Still I remained hopeful. Looking back I’m not sure if I was hopeful or just in denial. Before the talk of hospice she once mentioned that she wished she could see her home one last time. My heart broke. This was a simple wish that most people don’t even have to worry about. She was soon moved to hospice where she started off energetic and again I was hopeful she’d be home in a weeks time. That was the plan after all. After about 4 days in hospice she became unresponsive. She was breathing and would move every now and again, but couldn’t talk, and her body temp was burning hot. I was still hopeful until nurses told us that when patients usually become that hot it was because their brain was shutting down. That was a hard blow. Just days ago she was joking and walking around and now this.
        On the morning she died my mother and I went to the house my aunt shared with my grandma to grab her some clothes so she could stay by my aunt’s side. While there I made it a point to take pictures of every room in the house. When we arrived to her bedside I showed her the pictures on my phone not knowing if she could see them or not. I told her “I know you said you wanted to see home one last time and I’m sorry that this is only as close as I can get you there.” Later that afternoon my younger cousin flew in from out of town. My grandma, uncle, and I drove to the airport to get her (which was pretty far from hospice). The moment we all walked back into her room my aunt took her last breath. It was like something out of a movie where we got there just in time. It was unreal to see someone who had just taken their last breath and see almost immediately their color leave their body. I didn’t know how to react. Even though this was an event we all knew was coming I never thought it would actually happen.
        I tried to keep the sadness inside, but I completely broke. Crying is something I never do in public even though I’d label myself a very sensitive and emotional person. I hadn’t grown up around emotion. I often identify with the age old “men aren’t supposed to cry” saying because even as a woman, although it wasn’t said I felt like I had to hide my sensitivity. One of my early memories as a child was watching “The Land Before Time” with my parents and weeping when Littlefoot’s mom died. I’ll never forget my mom looking at me and in jest said “Are you really crying?” From that moment on whenever I felt emotion rush over me in public I sucked it up and tucked it down deep. That’s why the death of my aunt has me in a sort of depression. The night she passed I literally couldn’t sleep. All I saw when my eyes closed was her lifeless body. My family looked at me like I was strange when I told them. It seems as though they should’ve understood what I was feeling, but no. I can’t really cry about it. So I ask, how do you cope? How do you grieve for someone who you didn’t have a close bond with and at one point was certain didn’t care about you? I’m sure that’s all in my head, but it doesn’t make the feeling go away.
        The day of her memorial service I was certain that I would be fine. We all decided cremation was better (and cheaper since she didn’t have life insurance) so I didn’t have to stare at a box with my aunt lying in it. Halfway through the service I was okay, but one of my aunt’s close friends got up and sang a gospel song called “I Won’t Complain” which was fitting since my aunt hardly complained during her illness. The power of this woman’s voice and the words made me break slowly and once I saw my younger cousin crying I held her and just wailed. I couldn’t hold it any longer. I didn’t realize how loud I must’ve been, but I couldn’t stop. Moments later I looked up and saw my family, who were also crying, give me that weird look. Wipe my tears, suck it up, and push it down deep. Nothing needed to be said all I needed were the stares that made me feel so small and out of place.
        When the service was over the packed church went into the dining hall to eat and catch up with long lost family and friends. When most people had eaten and gone the weeks events kept replaying in my head and I felt scared, alone, and down. Another old friend/client of my aunt (my aunt was a well known hair stylist in the area), who hadn’t had a chance to catch up with me because of all the chaos, told me of a conversation she had with my aunt years ago about me. She told me of a time where my aunt was trying to do something for me but couldn’t remember what and said my aunt told her “Asia doesn’t want for anything so if this is what she wants I’m gonna make sure she gets it.” I started to remember what she was most likely talking about. When I was trying to move to Chicago in 2008 I couldn’t find an apartment because I really didn’t have any credit established nor a job (I was relocating to go to Columbia College) and everyone wanted a cosigner. I had asked her since no one else in my family was able to. I started to cry all over again. Here, I thought she favored my other cousins over me and didn’t think of me at all. Mostly I cried because she recognized that I never asked anyone for anything yet most people accuse me of being a spoiled brat. I’m someone who tries to do things for herself and doesn’t like to bug anyone for help (Hell, I lost my apartment in Chicago 2012, because I wanted to handle it on my own like an adult should. That;s how I am). She acknowledged that. I’ve waited all of my life for someone to see that and now it’s too late for me to thank her for seeing that I’m not some arrogant brat. As my eyes welled up I saw my mom just look at me. It wasn’t a look of “Are you crying again?” it was just the fact that she just looked at me then turned back around to continue her conversation with someone. So here I was alone and feeling horrible thinking that maybe I shouldn’t be this emotional. Again, we weren’t close so why would I feel this strongly about her… but I did and I felt alone in it. I still feel alone in it.
       In the weeks since her passing I’ve mentioned to my mom and grandma to seek grief counseling, although my younger cousin and I have said to them for years they need some type of therapy. I still urge so that possibly they can process these emotions openly without feeling like they have to have a guard up. Every weekend since my aunt has passed my mom and I stay with my grandma. One Sunday on the drive back home my mom broke down and said that she hated to leave my grandma alone. I didn’t know how to handle it. I never see her cry other than funerals and if I cry I’m given looks like I’m an alien so naturally when she cries I feel extremely uncomfortable. The only thing I can do is talk calmly and logically as far as comforting, that idea is foreign to me when it comes to my family. 
        I feel like I’m grieving in installments. I do it alone in my room and let you all in social media land into my feelings because I know someone out there will understand. When I enter the world I keep it tucked away. I don’t like it, but it’s what I know. No one has ever told me that crying is weak, but I have always been an observant person who doesn’t need to be told anything. I can see it all in a persons facial expressions and body language. These things and never seeing the people closest to me be emotional has told me that crying is something not done in public. You have a society out there that tells men that crying is weak, but what about women like me who have been brought up like that? I’m probably the softest person you will ever meet with the toughest exterior to get through. I’m grieving but I have a nagging feeling that tells me I shouldn’t be.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites
"Days are growing shorter and shorter."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015 ©

Day 43: shampoo day is the best day #365DaysOfHappy #2015 #HappyGoals #ActuallyItsCoWashDay
Day 41: #Pink. There. I admitted I love pink. #365DaysOfHappy #HappyGoals #selfie #PinkLady #2015
Day 40: I'm just going to leave this right here #365DaysOfHappy #MCM #ChildishGambino #DonaldGlover #DG #CG #DamnHeFine #HappyGoals #2015 #GodIsGood #PraiseTheLordt
In the following days maybe weeks I’m going to do a little bit of journaling. I’ve got some poems I was working on, but I’m going to set them aside for now because there’s other things eating away at me. Every since my aunt passed away a few weeks ago I’ve been feeling some type of way. I hope I find the energy to type and share all what I want to get out because lately all I want to do is sleep. So my apologies if it all seems redundant and annoying. I could just sit down and make one big post out of it, but I feel like if I did that a lot of what I want to say will be forgotten. I’m not sure how many posts there will be but they will most likely mirror each other while being different at the same time. I guess I feel like I should apologize beforehand because for the few who do read my work I don’t want to annoy them with what I feel is whining. Anyways, I just want to reflect on my life, how I was brought up, and how it effects me today so that maybe I can see my mistakes and become the person I’m supposed to be.
Day 39: YAAAASSSSS! ‪#‎TheWalkingDead‬ ‪#‎TWD‬ ‪#‎ImReady‬ ‪#‎BethTho‬ ‪#‎DoNotDisturb‬ ‪#‎365DaysOfHappy‬ #2015 ‪#‎HappyGoals‬

Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too

         If you’re a black man or woman and you use the words “light skinned” or “dark skinned” in a manner as if the two should be in competition with one another, I have no time for your twisted brainwashed bullshit.
        If you’re a black man or woman and you use the term “redbones” as a compliment and think that the lighter the skin an individual has makes them superior over everyone else, I have no time for your twisted brainwashed bullshit.
        If you are a black man or black woman and you think a black woman should only be praised if she has a big ass and/or long hair (or weave) and nothing else, I have no time for your twisted brainwashed bullshit.
        If you are a black man or black woman and you think that the only thing a black man can do to truly succeed is to rap or play sports, I have no time for your twisted brainwashed bullshit.
        If you’re a black man or black woman and you use the words “ugly”, “nappy”, or “African” to describe someone who is natural, I have no time for your twisted brainwashed bullshit.
        I am so sick and tired of seeing us put one another down in the black community. I have seen too many black men disrespect black women because they aren’t a certain complexion or body type. It’s even sicker when you see black women jump on the bashing train. We have come too far as a people for this crap. The strangest thing that I’ve found is that the people who spout this self hatred are the first ones to holler “Black lives matter” when someone gets killed. Maybe that’s a motto you should live by daily. How in the hell do you expect other races to acknowledge that our lives matter when we don’t show each other that our lives, our feelings, our accomplishments, and our minds hold value?
        Wake the hell up. You have been brainwashed by a society that constantly tells you that black folks ain’t shit and the darker they are the worse they are. You have been brainwashed into believing that the only thing of value a black woman has is her body and that she’d better twerk or men won’t love her. You have been brainwashed into believing that the only thing black men can do is rap or play basketball. Black women shouldn’t feel like they have to show off their body to get an attractive brotha’s attention and black men shouldn’t have to sell themselves short and only go after occupations that society tells them they’re only good at doing. We can do anything our hearts set out to do. I don’t care how cliche that sounds. It’s true. The goals we could reach are limitless, but we cut ourselves and others short.
        Show your brothers and sisters some love instead of telling them that only petty things matter. We should be pushing each other to succeed. It just gives me heartburn every time I see black folks talk about each other in this way. If you want to live in your little bubble of petty brainwashed bliss then fine, just please keep it to yourself and for the love of God do not breed. The last thing we need is another generation of fuck boys and bitches. Leave the breeding to the black folk who are determined to raised leaders.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Day 38: movie nights with the fam. #365DaysOfHappy #HappyGoals #Philomena #2015
Day 37: seeing this #weightloss makes me incredibly happy. I'll be at my goal in no time. #365daysofhappy #HappyGoals #healthy
Day 36: My cousin got me hooked on these things. They're soooo good. #ImObsessed #365daysofhappy #happygoals #healthy #2015

Tragic Crush Tales #5

         Crush S I really didn’t give a chance. We met through a popular dating site back in 2011. I was immediately attracted to him. He was a nice looking guy, funny, and extremely intelligent. In my profile I left a hint on how to find me on Facebook (as I do with all of my dating profiles because I’m not paying for that shit) and he quickly found me. We were able to converse there a bit more in order to get to know each other.
         With crush S we never really got a chance to meet. When we first started talking I was on a leave from work because I had fractured my foot. I was able to get around, but there was no way I was going to meet up with a great guy on a date and have a big boot on my foot. In the beginning the timing was just off for us. I was working for a company that left me zero time for a social life, now I had this fractured foot, and because of this stressful job I had gained a considerable amount of weight which left me feeling not so great about myself. With or without a fractured foot I wouldn’t have met S simply because of my weight gain. I’ll have to admit another reason why I was hesitant on meeting was because the pics from his dating profile and his Facebook were slightly different. Not different in a “I don’t think this is the same person” kind of way. They were different in a way where all of the pictures from his dating profile were very attractive, but his default pic on FB wasn’t as attractive. So I assumed his dating profile pics were most likely old and the FB one was probably more recent. That was lame on my part.
         The weird thing about S is when we finally met it was purely by chance. It was a year later. I was attending Lollapalooza which was evacuated this particular day because of a bad storm. I went into a nearby Target to get out of the rain. As I walked around the store to kill time until the heavy rain calmed down I heard someone call my name. I turned around and saw S walking towards me. I was surprised at how handsome he was and was completely caught off guard because I was totally soaked and had mud all over me. We talked for a few minutes until he said he had to get back to his….girlfriend. I knew I had screwed up and it was all due to my own severe insecurities and shallowness.
        As time went on S and I would still talk from time to time on FB. I’d see a few girlfriends here and there and I also checked out his old girlfriends. I started to notice that they all sort of looked alike. They were all very afrocentric women with very African sounding names and he’s sort of a nerdy white guy (a cute nerdy white guy, but a nerdy white guy nonetheless). So even after he and the girlfriend I’d seen him with had broken up I still wasn’t sure about him. I had this feeling like he had a fetish of sorts. As someone who has dated outside of her race often I had plenty of boyfriends or potential boyfriends who were more or less dating me to try something different. It was hard for me to tell if this was S’s deal. I was tired of being someone’s fad or experience. I would hate to really fall for someone only to find out they just have a thing for black women and want to see what it’s like.
        It wasn’t until recently that I realized that S probably didn’t have an agenda in mind when it came to women he dated. There was a discussion on FB about police killing black men and the way he defended the black community, not only to his racist friends but to mine as well, made me change my mind about him. I didn’t change it because he stood for what was right. I changed my mind because he knew what he was talking about and was passionate and genuine about it. Before I had come to this realization I was already kicking myself because S really is a good guy. For the 4 1/2 years I lived in Chicago there were only two men I came across who where genuinely good guys; S was definitely one of them and crush L was the other. In recent years I haven’t come across a man with his level of intelligence and wit. I let this one slip through my fingers…. which I now see I’m good at doing.
        Earlier this year I saw a post of my newsfeed that he had proposed to his girlfriend. I’m not going to bitch and moan about it. He deserves to be happy and with someone that makes him happy. I’m not in a position to do that with anyone yet. I still have a lot of work to do on myself so that I can learn to make myself happy instead of depending on others to fill that void. Once I’m there I’ll be ready to find someone as great as S. We’re still Facebook buds and talk here and there. I’m okay with being friends with him. God knows I need more positive people like him in my life, even if it’s just through social media.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Day 35: A pretty awesome playlist to ‪#‎workout‬ to is key ‪#‎365DaysOfHappy‬ #2015 ‪#‎HappyGoals‬ ‪#‎healthy‬
Day 34: ‪#‎MyBigFatFabLife‬ makes me so happy. Whitney has the most positive attitude I've ever seen in life and I hope to have that attitude one day ‪#‎365DaysOfHappy‬ ‪#‎HappyGoals‬ #2015

Seriously, Spotify

        So I was enjoying a little music on Spotify while I was working out today and I heard an ad that completely ruined my mood. It was an ad that suggested to celebrate black history month by listening to hip hop artists like O.T. Genasis and Flo Rida. There was a third artist that was mentioned, but I was so shocked by the first two I didn’t pay attention to who it was.
         First off O.T. Genasis is known for a song about how he loves and sells cocaine.
and Flo Rida is just a trash artist and I’m confused as to why he still has a career, but I digress.
        There are so many hip hop artists that could’ve been used in that ad. Spotify could’ve used the opportunity to promote up and coming hip hop artists as well as well known artists that actually represent the positivity or speak on social issues within the black community (Kendrick Lamar, Kid Cudi, Childish Gambino, Schoolboy Q, The Roots). After all that’s what black history month is about. It’s about the people who preach equality, change, and progress. To me it seems as though Spotify just picked anybody that was black versus using people that would actually fit in the category of “celebrate black history month” and they scraped the bottom of the barrel on this one. Instead of going the route of promoting influential hip hop artists they went with whoever represented a stereotype in hip hop music, and that stereotype is to glorify drugs, money, and bitches. Not all hip hop music is about that. The only thing that terrible ad was missing was Igloo Australia to bring that racist ad full circle. Black history month is about the black leaders and underdogs that fought for our equality and respect and the people that continue to do so. So, Spotify maybe you want to rethink what celebrating black history month really is and change that ad up a bit.
Day 33: #BrainGames is my favourite. It makes me feel smart... oh and there's gorgeous #JasonSilva 😍 #365DaysOfHappy #2015 #HappyGoals
Day 32: #TheWalkingDead marathons are everything #365DaysOfHappy #HappyGoals #2015 #TWD #AMC #DarylDixon
Day 31: Austin & Ally is my shit ‪#‎DontJudgeMe‬ ‪#‎365DaysOfHappy‬ #2015 ‪#‎HappyGoals‬ ‪#‎Disney‬ ‪#‎RossIsBae‬ ‪#‎AustinAndAlly‬
Day 30: a great collection of music to get my creativity flowing. ‪#‎365DaysOfHappy‬ #2015 ‪#‎HappyGoals‬ ‪#‎Spotify‬