A Poem: .Touch.

Also written the summer of '05. I was very angry when I was 17 and very lovesick. A lot of the things I wrote echoed that sentiment. Oh well, this is the last post and then I'm hitting up my leftover spaghetti casserole.

. Touch .
06.14.05

Simple, complex

full of passion and love

full of uncertainty

It means nothing 

to you

to me

it is everything

your kiss, your touch, your love

It gives me pain and sorry

a broken heart

it shatters my will to live

it picks me up when I am down

it makes me feel secure

A touch of love

          fire

A touch of hate

          intense

from you

given to me

I freely accept it

I lustfully long for it

I secretly despise it

© Jasmine S. Davis 2011

A Poem: #12

And because I'm in the an incredibly good mood, I've decided to post another poem. I also got of my lazy behind and grabbed my poem book. I wrote this poem the summer of 2005. Let's see, I was 17? I think. 2011-2005, take 6 years off 23....yeah I was 17. Seems like forever ago. Anyway, whenever I couldn't think of a title for a poem I just gave it a random number. So here it is:

# 12

06.15.05

Two holes

blank

tinted with color

black, blue, green, gray, brown

Windows, foggy

portals into the mind

paths into the body

passageways into the soul

Mirrors

Reflectors of images; emotions

fear, anxiety, happiness, joy,

frustration, anger

shift---Now searching

downcast---Now hiding

blank---Now expressionless

direct---Bold.

© Jasmine S. Davis 2011

A Poem: Words.

I said to myself about 3 weeks ago, when I stumbled upon a book of poetry I had packed up when I moved that I was going to publish them here on the blog and that was going to be my April thing. Well, that didn't happen. I got lazy and sat in front of my TV instead of at my computer. But I'm here now, fueled by the flames of my latest creative wind. I've been writing non-stop for the last four days on my latest novel endeavor. A sequel to the book I started around Christmas. I feel so good about it. I feel so good about writing. I've encouraged myself that this is what I truly want to be doing. Sharing my imagination with the rest of the world. But for me, the easy part is having an awesome idea, and starting the book or the short story or the whatever. The hard part is actually finishing it. I read some article that said that was a common norm amongst Aries. I refuse to let myself fall into that category.

So, when I came home from work today, I had every intention of going to my book. I'd been thinking of new plot twists all day at work. But what did I do when I came home? I pulled out my laptop, I got my jump drive, and when I prepared to write, I didn't go to my book. I got bit by a different strain of the creativity bug and I did something I rarely do because it's so hard for me. I sat down a wrote a poem. In about 10 minutes mind you. I've never been more proud of myself. To start and finish something from my creative/artistic/literal side, that's a major accomplishment. And now I'm going to share. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you....

Words.

Some people will never amount to much,

Constantly sputtering excuses they use as their crutch

Tales and woes, wishes of things to be better

Viewing life as a negative, always and ever

But that’s not me,

Oh no, no sir, no ma’am

I refuse to life my life failing to achieve my master plan

I envision a future, bright and free

Where I can do my own thing and not worry about the green

A life full of peace, happiness and love,

A grand horizon I seek to reach up above

So many things I want to be

All facets and aspects and pieces of me

                A teacher, a healer, a  friend, a writer

                A mother, an Activist, a peacemaker, a fighter

                                                                      Amongst countless other dreams…

You see,

A life of complacency would be like darkness

Perpetual, never-ending and bleak.

Just thinking about that makes me want to shriek.

I could never allow myself to be so content

Passing the time pondering what to lament

Words are a gift, an expression of character,

Not disjointed things to fill a page

No,

                You are the messenger.

Use them.           Create.

Speak words of praise, criticism, dreams and vitality

Ingrain them within your soul,

Feed your spirit.

                Dare to accomplish it.

Then when you happen upon those who won’t amount to much,

And they begin to lament and feel the need to explain their crutch,

Smile,

For you will never be as such.

© Jasmine S. Davis 2011

One Foot In, One Foot Out

A year ago, all I could think about was being in a relationship; dating someone; looking ahead towards a future that included marriage, being a housewife and raising 2-3 children. Now...my viewpoint has changed. I've slowly come to realize that the laid out plan I had for my life isn't exactly what I want anymore. Or at least, not in my immediate plans. I still want to get married. I still want to have children. I still want that perfect family, but I don't want it right now. I'm not even sure that I want a serious boyfriend.
 
This all started a few months ago. I was casually seeing this guy. It was nice at first. He was cute. He made me laugh. He was different from my usual type. It'd been a while since I'd given some serious time to a guy, so I went along with it. Then a few weeks in I had the talk with myself....Do I try to see where this goes and date this guy? Do I just have a casual relationship with all the benefits? Or do I just cut my loses because I truthfully and honestly don't want to be tied down?

The verdict --- I nixed him. Plus, I really didn't have the same emotional connection I had within the first couple weeks of us hanging out. Anyway. He's out of the picture. He was a little upset. I tried to be as nice and honest as possible. But how do you tell someone that, I really am NOT into you. On the flipside though, there's a guy I like. I've always liked him seriously. I know this. He knows this. But there's no way we can be together. I go through phases of wishing we could be together, and then phases of understanding that it's good we're not. But I came to the conclusion over my birthday that I really don't want to be in a relationship right now. My life is too freaking hectic. I might be jobless come June and looking for a new place to live. What's the point in getting involved with someone. Plus--I'm kind of weird in my feelings. When it comes to the next guy I date, I want it to be serious. I'm a serial monogomist and I like a strong commitment. I don't want to be with a guy that I split with after 6 months or 2 years. No. I want to be with someone that could potentially turn to marriage. But how do I cope with the feeling of not wanting to settle down seriously with the conflicting feeling of a desire for companiship?

It's like I'm playing the hokey pokey. I've got one foot in when it comes to emotional investment. I want to date. I want to be with someone. I want that person I can divulge my innermost thoughts too. But at the same time, I've got one foot out when it comes to emotional investment. I don't want to give my everything to someone whose just going to turn around and break my heart.Or be with someone who I come to realize I don't like.

Things are complicated. I'm in limbo in a lot of areas in my life; job, finances, love.... So for right now, being single, that's the best option. I surely never thought I'd be the one saying that.

I AM Poem

My kids wrote I AM poems this week and I was taken aback at how some of these rowdy 7 and 8 year olds could achieve so much depth. A few talked about their futures and had some creative imaginations. This inspired me to go through all my junk I'd saved from college and find the I AM Poem I had to write as a requirement in one of my college Language Arts classes. I felt compelled to post it here. I'm going to to read it to them on Monday so they can see that I also enjoy writing and the many assignments I give them in class have more merit than just busywork. Please enjoy.

I AM

by Jasmine Davis

written 9.29.09 

I am creative and strong-willed

I wonder when I’ll get married

I hear the laughter of my deceased Grandmother

I see her smiling face in my mind’s eye

I want to be a famous author

I am creative and strong-willed

I pretend I am a reality TV show celebrity

I feel like I have magical powers

I touch bleak clouds as I drive through Black Mountain

I worry that I won’t fulfill my hearts desires

I cry when people forget to love

I am creative and strong-willed

I understand it takes hard work to achieve your goals

I say that I will be on Oprah and the NY Times Bestselling list

I dream that one day all my wishes will come true

I try to be a little nicer here and there

I hope that people follow their dreams

I am creative and strong-willed 

Hi Mom, I'm a Stripper

I’ve been slack on blogging this month. This will probably be my only post, so let’s make it a good one.

I finally had my first experience at a strip club. I went with some friends of my for my home girls birthday plus a whole bunch of people she knew. I don’t know who was more excited to go, me, her, or the guys we were going with. Going to a strip club was one of those things on my bucket list that I wanted to do, and being a writer I think I needed it especially if I ever wanted to write from the viewpoint of a stripper in one of my future books. So when she asked if I was down to go that night, I said sure! I’m down for anything.

We went to a rather upscale strip club, and by upscale, I mean popular, with the best looking girls. At least that’s what the dudes said who drove us there. I was definitely a little uneasy. But the guys assured us we wouldn’t be out of place. “There’ll be more girls there than guys” one had said, and boy was he right. I don’t know if there were more women there showering gadzooks of $1 bills on the strippers or not, but it seemed like a pretty even split.

One thing that popped into my mind as I was being given a lap dance (a present from the birthday girls male cousin) was, why did I slave away for a 4 year degree and get a job in education that isn’t promised to me next year due to budget cuts, when I could be taking off my clothes and shaking my goodies for money? I mean those girls, the good ones anyway, were getting bank.  And if there were so many people who were enjoying it, why is it such a big deal for women of a respectable human code to be taking off their clothes for money? It’s not like they are hookers on the street having sex with random people for money. They were just dancing. My philosophy is: If it pays the bills and it’s not illegal, it pays the bills. There shouldn’t be a stigma attached to it? Right? But there is. Guys don’t like their girlfriends stripping.  Girls don’t like their girlfriends stripping. Parents don’t like their children stripping. Sure the boyfriends or girlfriends might be fine with it in the beginning, but if the relationship gets serious enough, they don’t want their partner showing all “the bizness” to random strangers. They want to keep intimate body parts within the confines of the relationship.

This is one of those questions that you ponder over as you’re driving down the highway. I certainly couldn’t imagine telling my family I’d left my job as a teacher to strip, or tell them I was doing it part time to cover some bills. Imagine me driving to Kentucky, waltzing though the door and saying, “Hi mom, I’m a stripper.” I think she’d beat the black off me and tell me to go find my common sense. Being the daughter of a preacher, that just wouldn’t fly in her or my stepdad’s book; doesn’t matter if it paid the bills or not. She’d say there is a better way to make money than flashing my boobs and butt every night.

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Race in the Altar

If anyone has been on my facebook page recently, you'll see that I recently posted an excerpt from a conversation I was having at lunch on Wednesday with a 2nd grade student of mine. It went like this:

(Marcus) Ms. Davis are you married to somebody named Mr. Davis?

(Me) No, I'm not married.
(Marcus) What?! When you get married it need to be to somebody black.
(Me) No I don't. They don't have to be black.
(Marcus) WHAT?! You like white?!! Nuh uhh Ms. Davis; black go with black. White go with white. If you was white you'd already be married by now.


Instead of being immediately offended like some people would have been, I had an uncontrollable bout of laughter erupt from my body. It was so severe that my eyes started watering. But as I talked with a friend of mine about it late in the afternoon, she made a comment that Marcus’s last comment had been true. Of the close friends or acquaintances I’d had in college, a vast majority of the white girls are either married or engaged, and a vast majority of the black girls are very much single. That called for some question in my mind. Why is it that we as black women aren’t getting our happily ever after as soon as our Caucasian counterparts?

Also, where along the lines did Marcus develop these racial lines in his 7 year old mind? “Black go with black; white go with white.” That is a pretty powerful statement. If this had’ve been a conversation during segregated times, it would be an accepted norm, but is it still a norm in modern times?

When I pause and watch the relationships of those around me, the majority are same race. There are a few people who like to mix the races but it is still taboo. My question is WHY? When I was a little girl my father told me that I better not ever bring anybody but a black guy home to meet him. So far, all the guys I’ve dated throughout my life have been black. I’ve had countless crushes on guys from other races, but for whatever the reason, I’ve never approached them for a date and they haven’t approached me.

I feel like a hypocrite when I talk about mixed race relationships. I’d like to say that I am a total advocate for it. I’m open-minded and I don’t care who people marry. Race is not an issue for me. We are all human beings. We live, we breathe, we eat, we love, we bleed, and we die. Nothing separates us except the pigmentation of our skin. But yet, deep down, I can’t quite get used to the idea of black men dating non-black women. Three of my four brothers seem to have a preference for white girls and for some reason it bothers me. I always wonder, why can’t they date a black girl? I asked my 20 year old brother that once and he just replied, “I don’t know. I just prefer white girls.” He said it had nothing to do with black women having “attitudes” and being “too demanding” as the stereotype goes, he just liked white girls. I myself am fiercely attracted to Hispanic men and European men; c’mon who wouldn’t want a suave Italian or an Irishman who’s a little rough around the edges? But have I ventured outside my race? No. I have not. I say I want to do it, but I don’t.

When will race in relationships stop becoming an issue in the world? Part of me knows the answer to that question is a strong never, and that saddens me.

Anyways, that was just something on my mind. Think about it.

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Love Stories

Me and my ex broke up in April. It's no big news, seeing as it's almost a year later. Surprisingly we're on cordial terms. I wouldn't call us friends, but I wouldn't call us enemies either. If I text him, he responds, if he texts me I respond. We've even had dinner together in a totally platonic way and it wasn't awkward. That's big! Anyway, one day I just so happened to be on his facebook page reading up on his latest statuses, he's known to post silly crap, and I saw that he had updated his quote section and he had added this:

"Not all relationships are meant to last forever, even when you're in love. Some love stories are short stories... but they are still love stories all the same."

When I read it, I did what any normal girl would do. I asked myself, "Is that about me?" And immediately felt ashamed that I had been so insecure in my thoughts. It could be about me, as far as I'm concerned I'm the big love of his life. But then again, he could very well have dated someone seriously after me. But regardless of that, I shouldn't care. My heart has long since healed. That chapter in my life closed this summer when I got over him.

However, despite the fact that it could be about me or I'm just taking his words too personal, the quote hit my heart in an odd sort of way and made me think about the true depth of the words as it related to our relationship. It was like it was the perfect statement of closure. If he had've said that to me after we'd broken up when I was questioning what went wrong in our relationship and how I could've saved it, I would have been OK. I'm a romantic at heart and that would have helped ease my pain. So I sat there looking at the quote and dissecting it and came to some revelations. Just because we aren't together now didn't mean that he never loved me back then. And just because our relationship ended after 3.5 years, doesn't mean that it was 3.5 years of our lives wasted. At the time, we were in love and we were happy, but somewhere along the way the happiness faded and we realized we wanted different things. So after I sat and pondered the quote for a few moments, I smiled and exited his facebook page.

In the terms of my life span (almost 23 years), our love was a short story, but it was still a story nonetheless. It was a chapter in my life that has in some way shaped me into the person that I am today. Without the love and the heartbreak that he caused me, I couldn't say that I would be where I am today, and for that I thank him for both loving me, and hurting me. It took me a while to be able to appreciate both.

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Self-diagnosed Prescription

I think that I am going to start a new blog. It's been on my mind for a while now, and I think that I am ready to take that jump. The second blog will be devoted solely to my writing and getting my name out there. It will feature snippets and sometimes full chapters of the books I'm working on. It will also highlight any ideas I have for upcoming works. I have told many people throughout the years that I have aspirations of becoming a New York Times Best-selling author, it's time I started working to achieve that goal.

This blog (An Unconventional Princess) will keep serving the purpose of my online "diary" in a sense. Most posts have chronicled different battles or triumphs I've had in my life. Writing is sort of like my own personal prescription for my well-being. I used to keep a diary in high school and it helped me relieve my emotions when I had no one to talk to. By writing all my thoughts and life experiences down on here, hopefully it'll serve many purposes: give people something to to ponder on, relate to or laugh at; help me deal with situations in my life; and thirdly, give me something to go back and look on many years from now to see how I've grown. So, I'm going to take a leap of faith. I'm starting a new blog dedicated solely to my aspirations/dream of becoming a writer. Now all I have to do is think of a blog title....

20-NYE-11: "Good-bye Grandpa!"

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I only posted 16 times on this blog in 2010 and that's a shame. My goal is to write more this year. I started a new book December 31st and have already written 60 pages in word, single spaced mind you. So I'm focused. Hopefully by summer I'll have it and the sequel completed and I can use my free time from work to see about getting that thing published. So to keep in the spirit of writing, I'm going to get back into blogging.

NEW YEARS EVE was the BEST night of my life ALL Winter! OMG! I went out with 3 of my sorors to the Suite lounge in Charlotte. After I got over the shock of paying $50 to get into the club, we got dolled up and hit the bar and the dance floor. I danced with so many guys of so many races and it was a SPECTACULAR experience. I even had this dude buy me a drink and offer to buy more. But when I had his drink, that was #4 for me and I was stopping. Last time I got drunk was WCU homecoming in October and I was ridiculous. I didn't want to be ridiculous out in public on New Year's Eve. But anyway, this guy buys me a drink and then lets me keep the change from the drink. $4.00. Hey that's a meal from Wendy's. So after that, I decided to flirt a little bit. He deserved it for adding to my alcohol intake and my wallet. He was really cute too, which was an added bonus and had beautiful straight teeth. But as the night progressed and our flirting, a few warning signs were thrown up and then the bomb went off and I had to cut him off.

1. he came to the lounge alone
2. he spent most of his time at the bar
3. when he did wander away from the bar he was kind of stalkerish looking at women
4. he got way too fresh when he was dancing with me ( I won't elaborate)
5. dude got way too drunk
and finally 6. he got all defensive when I asked him how old he was

"Why do you want to know how old I am?" I thought it was a logical question. I mean I saw potential in giving him my number and getting to know him outside of the club. Aside from the warning signs he was really a nice guy. Well how old was this attractive big spender? "I'm 36," was his reply to my question.

WHAT?! 36. Dude, that means you are technically old enough to be my father if you impregnated my mom when you were 14. EEEWWWWWWW.

Good-bye grand-pa. Dude was cut off!

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