Leave But Dont Take My Heart .

What is it about a breakup that makes the person you stopped caring for or felt you needed space from suddenly more desirable than ever? Is it the fact you no longer hold their world in your hands that reintroduces your brain to the thrill of a chase yet again? Or is it that by breaking all ties you're suddenly stronger and have a better protective shield when it comes to their 'super love'? I'm not one to walk away easily, in fact I'm more than likely the one standing there alone in the end, but as time wears on even when compared to pain and hatred, love still outweighs it all. so are we unintelligent daredevils that enjoy the emotional rush of ups and downs that come with relationships or are we all, no matter what we say, still holding out for that ONE that we always saw potential in to see the potential in us.


pennanddpaperr.

Woah Bro !

Lil Chuckie from Young Money looks like the character Dr. Carver that created the peanut people in Proud Family .

That's It .

pennanddpaperr.

I Changed My Mind .

Once upon a time, I was all for Extenze for men. I liked that. I dug that. I would've voted on that. Hooray! for the man trying to keep hope alive by getting a little "assistance" to give his woman or man pleasure. BUT when I saw Extenze at the counter in 7-Eleven for $7.99...

Enough said .

pennanddpaperr.

Picasso ?

what would you say if I told you that art can be found anywhere? In anything? That the things some people would frown down and sneer at could be a art?

Like what? Like rolling a blunt.

Yea you read correctly. Rolling a blunt. The expertise it takes to fill a swisher with your choice of fixings and roll it up with no loose ends or unnecessary saliva.

Easy. You think?

There's something about sitting there easily breaking down your weed, gutting, wetting and filling the swisher that can easily intimidate a regular person. How do I get the weed inside? How do I re-roll it? How do I get it to stick? The need to create a clean finish so that the lungs can easily welcome the filtered smoke. The personal way of holding your hands that folds the contents into a single bar. The simple feeling of pride when its done while those around you appreciate it for just what it is. Among the many trys to accomplish this task and unsuccessfully achieving the goal one can get frustrated and sloppy. Possible swisher ripping from it being too wet and a inability to keep a steady hand.

Have you ever seen someone roll a blunt, figured you could do it and ran into this problem? Then you know sometimes it takes a artist.

pennanddpaperr.

One Of Them Days .

on days where its cold and rainy outside and toasty inside, i tend to do a lot of thinking and writing. i listen to a personal playlist of songs that are touching and somewhat therapeutic. i don't know about you guys but i cant always listen to them club bangers. sometimes i need the music to be just as vulnerable, emotional, and real as life can get, and today is 'One Of Them Days.'


*these are just some that i enjoy on days like this

Suffocate - J. Holiday

Unthinkable - Alicia Keys
Sunshine - Floetry

Cant Get Right - Jagged Edge

Love - Musiq

Ex Factor - Lauryn Hill

Sweet Love - Anita Baker

I Love You - Dru Hill

Doin' Just Fine - Boyz II Men

In The Morning - Jagged Edge

All The Man I Need - Whitney Houston

Where I Wanna Be - Donell Jones

If I Aint Got You - Alicia Keys

Sweetest Thing - Lauryn Hill

I Don't Wanna Hurt You - Latif

Diary - Alicia Keys

pennanddpaperr.

The Results Are In ...

and Nicki Minaj is The Most Overrated Artist !

she won by 18% clocking 45% to strip the title from both Beyonce and Lil Wayne with matching 27% scores.

well Nicki, seems the new ass implants and animated rap style isnt enough to win everyone over but dont worry girl ! you still have niggas mind fucking you while disregarding your talent and females losing their minds and their damn selves trying to be you. bravo !

NEW poll ---- >

pennanddpaperr.

Once Upon A Addict .

13 people with the same problem sitting in a circle. Flimsy, aluminum, folding chairs holding each of our jittery bodies. Waiting to one by one stand up and tell our own personal experience of our addictive downward spiral. A instructor with warm smiles, twinkling eyes, and a annoying habit of reminding us all that everything was going to be okay. I didn't feel okay. I hadn't rode the highs and lows today or simmered in the warmth and relaxed in the cool. I hadn't heard that infamous greeting when I asked for exactly what I shouldn't have been spending money on. As my patience wore thin and I became crankier by the hours in between each indulgence, those that loved me were more than convinced I needed help more than ever. So there I was forced to be. At this place. In this room. In this circle. With these people. Hearing their pathetic stories everyday. About how they rushed out of jobs and classes, argued and yelled for rides, regularly asking and begging for money and waking up in the middle of the night or early in the morning to rush to the overwhelming call. To love when it was in their hands and hating when it was gone. I half listened. Not ready to yet admit that those descriptions of reality were no longer undeniable in my life. Had something so innocent and recreational suddenly become my bittersweet longing? Had it without notice become the first and last thing I thought about night and morning? I sat among my peers. Those like me. Those that shared in my inability to deny myself what I felt I needed. One week. Two weeks. Three weeks passed and then I was ready. To tell the truth. To take the first step and admit, yes I have a problem. After a fellow user stood up and told his story, speaking my hearts feelings and my brains words, we clapped and gave nods of support. The room then fell quiet after a couple of rehearsed words from the instructor and it was my turn. I uncrossed my white fitted jean wearing legs and straightened my purple off the shoulder waist length sweater. I momentarily stopped fidgeting with my over sized gold heart necklace hanging down my chest and stood on my peep toe purple suede stiletto adorned feet. I rose slowly, took a deep breath and for once in a year finally spoke the words that i would have never thought would have been uttered by my lips, "Hi I'm Gwen and I'm addicted to Starbucks."

*True story.

pennanddpaperr.

He: The Ignorant .

i feel as though men, Black men are so easily seduced by the wrong things. like this myth of the 'hood', fast cash, the superficial comparison to success. believing that these informal friendships and communities are just going to falter without them poisoning its people. there they are completely undermining their own best interests by misguidedly favoring this "hustlers mentality" only to preserve their ghetto neighborhoods and their "food" because they have to "eat" when in fact the 'hood' itself is not what it has been made out to be. there are no 'hoods' until gang like opportunists rush in and fill it up with fear and poison. it makes me wonder if maybe the troubled relationship between African American men and women is where the problem stems. slavery and racial oppression engendered it, and poverty, economic insecurity, and lingering racism sustain it. there quick to always blame society and America but how much truth is in that? we have strong, beautiful black women that will stand by there men and weather many a storm for them but have men inflicting these society imposed wounds upon themselves by betraying those who love them. how? by the ways they bring up and abandon their children, their self indulgences, the ways they relate, or fail to relate, to each other, the values and attitudes they cherish and the ones they choose to disregard, denials and deceits and of course through their ideas about their neighborhoods. or could it be rap? it has been reduced to another version of violence obsessed white rock. they sit around embracing this misogynistic, self loathing noise of 'gangsta rap' sponsored by Euro-American companies and ignore the fact the lyrical content is full of rhymes of malice that ultimately you cant relate to but conform to fit. im not saying im right but because only they as individual men can find the antidote to heal themselves, i have nothing more to say.

pennanddpaperr.

I'm Sorry, But I'm Not A Fan .

Fan:

A fan or supporter is someone who has an intense, occasionally overwhelming liking and enthusiasm for a sporting club, person (usually a celebrity), group of persons, company, product, activity, work of art, idea, or trend.

sorry peeps but the definition above does not describe my feelings for the new Young Money artist Drake. while he has a undeniable talent for putting his words together quite nicely he just doesn't whip me into a frenzy like most. don't take what i am saying as hating because I AM NOT but i don't run to my computer every time a new Drake song comes out to download it nor do i listen to a song strictly for his verse. i most definitely give him his props for dropping one hell of a mix tape -crowd goes crazy- and having "Thats my jam !" singles because i was no no doubt slapping it in my car, BUT until he drops a better OR equally impressive album you wont hear me saying "Drake is my favorite rapper."

( this could change in the future. )

pennanddpaperr.

Lemme School Ya '

* from a complex intellectual whose blog you follow ( :

(i dont always talk about nonsense lol)

The writings on the wall hold all the evidence,our ancestors were God's and Our women were Goddesses, The rest of the world know's the truth and acknowledge it, except for the kings that act like niggaz in ignorance ,no diligence our Queens are called bitches but embrace the hate, and reject the correct teachings of the masters, but if the God's are niggaz why wouldn't the woman be bitches because MAAT isn't practiced ,so what's left is disaster that strikes the innocent of descendents who were kings and queens, and rightful custodian's of the Earth who were charged to keep IT clean, IT being the spiritual and physical and Universe, combining of the two to create an individual, who's viewed as a God from a reversed state of being, we have stooped so low to our present state of pleading, for jobs equal benefits, and air just to breath, smoke weed and abuse alcohol our mind we're never freeing, but freezing the growth of a righteous Form of Unity, that would truly bring back rightful forms of democracy, hypocrisy is practiced because no one even checks it, but the ancients kept a healthy surviving record of there message, so pop those books open, Act and stop hoping, because faith without works is dead and even the scripture teaches that, your so drained of your intellect you hate black and everything associated with the name, so you claim yourAmerican in fact, you've never been American you don't understand, you have no privileges like a European White Man, so you stand for nothing at all and fall short,because you stand alone, where Unity isn't involved the root of the movement is dethroned, so thank the Creator for making you strong, but the strength is within so what is taking so long, get back to where you Belong .

pennanddpaperr.

Slap That Nigga Back !

it has been forever since i have written something. geez what have i been doing with my life peeps? NOT A DAMN THING ! smh. todays subject ? hm theres so many.

thinking... thinking...

oh i got it ! something that made me almost spit out my fruit punch vitamin water.




there they were. a average Jody and a average Joe. a average pair. a regular couple. everything seemed to be alright between the two and neither deserved more than 5 seconds of attention but Jody herself received about 30 of mine. (she had on really cute shoes ( : as i sat and sipped, they mosied on to their car where they shared a kiss. she drops his hand to get in on her side of the car and Joe wipes his mouth and follows. he reaches her side of the car, grabs her by the shoulder and LITERALLY SLAPS THE HELL OUT OF HER ! ... gasp ! ...


what happens next !!!!? I'm getting there, I'm getting there.


after she quits seeing splotches and colors and shit she starts to cry. no why?, no crazy look, no WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!! seemingly apologetic for getting the shit slapped out of herself.


ooh wee ! -clenches fist and rocks back and forth in seat-


Joe has walked back to his side of the car. unnerved that his gf/wife/fiance/side chick whatever could be blacking out or shit! have a damn concussion with that supreme pimp slap he landed on home girl, and is getting into the car. she is trying to talk to him but he pushes her, closes his door and proceeds to back the hell up and bounce ! poor Jody, there she was looking lost. like she got mugged, lost her puppy, and got dumped all in the same day. she walks over to where I'm sitting.

yal, i ain't say a damn thing because you cant just get in anybodies business these days and sometimes folks don't know how to react to being helped. plus if my ass had just been slapped across the parking lot i would be trying to be invisible. psh.

she looks over at me, i can see her looking out of my peripheral, attempts to say something then stops short and says nothing.

okay, maybe shes not ready. lets try again.

another look, and finally "do you have cigarette?"

a cigarette? i guess she needed something to calm them nerves.

"nah sorry i don't smoke. i have some gum though."

lol wtf was i thinking? gum? what was she going to do, inhale the spearmint on the wrapper! smh.

she replies "no thanks" and continues to try nursing her very obvious bruise.


GODDAMN ! i wish i had took a picture !


i wasn't able to hold my tongue for much longer and i started to talk to her. she told me about Joe, how he has been "the love of her life" for the past TWO ABUSIVE years. how hes 4 years older than her and her moms always had a "feeling" about him.

bet she wish she would've listened now. hmph.

how he had cheated on her twice and always begged to come back. to be better for her and there 1 year old little girl. how she moved from her home state with him for his job relocation. how she has no friends and cant have anyone in the house because hes jealous AND how that was her car that he smashed off with.


no offense but if i was just reading what i wrote i would think sista girl was white but NOPE ! she was a sistah.

waaaaaaaahtt?

i know abuse has no race but alot of times white girls take that abuse shit like a champ. usually a sister would clock a nigga back or hell call "pookie and dem" and get the shit popping but here was this poor little black girl lost without a pot or a window. smh.


i asked her where her daughter was and she said daycare. she breaks down crying about how she just wants to go home. how he can have whatever is in the house, the car, the money in the accounts but just wants to go home. some real Tina Turner shit, yal. so i take her to get her baby AFTER buying Jody a jacket. it was cold as hell outside. and wait with them both at grey hound. i buy her a ticket, gave her my number and some money, and wished her luck. she gets on the bus and all i can hope is that she takes this experience as a lesson learned and uses it as motivation to better herself and her daughters life. (super cute little girl)


NOW...


i know it has got to be hard dealing with a man whooping your ass. in fact, i know it is. i have been abused before and its no picnic but it took me ONE time to get my ass up and leave. to sit there and have some sick ass person hit me because they cant control their emotions is ridiculous. it actually makes me think of the Chris Brown and Rihanna situation. everybody made the situation into some huge thing when from many reliable sources, it wasn't the first time. now wtf is her problem? shes pretty, rich, solid career, seems to be a good person despite her darkening appearance, and has spoken multiple times about how supportive and loving her family is; so what took you so long to call the police? are you really that desperate? that lonely? that insecure? its only going to take a normal person a couple times to get tired of that meaningless word sorry before it clicks that this nigga ain't sorry. this nigga need some help ! but there they are. thousands of women making excuses, living lies, and feeling god knows how many emotions to where they don't want to get out of bed let alone look at themselves in the mirror. bitch, can you get a blunt/drink/pack of cigarettes, pick your poison and slap the share my world Mary J album and watch waiting to exhale!


maybe I'm coming off a little harsh, FUCK YOU ! I'm just blunt and straightforward ! but fareal, i sympathize with any woman that has faced a abusive time in their lives and i commend those that have came out of it stronger and wiser but it should not take a person having to put their hands on you for you to see the light or should theyre be some little person; child, involved for you to want to get out. many would say its a process and hey, whatever you say. you wouldnt sit there and consistentaly burn yourself knowing its going to hurt. why let somone use you as their personal punching bag knowing that shit aint no type of turn on. life is precious and its not to be taken for granted.

and after saying that,

fuck the physical attachments; the sex cant be that good and the nigga that fine. fuck the emotional attachments; love isn't suppose to hurt. and SUPER fuck that nigga for even thinking hes of any other sex besides BITCH because REAL MEN dont hit women.

now, GET YOUR ASS UP AND LEAVE !


pennanddpaperr.